This weekend saw my in-laws celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. It was a particularly busy weekend to choose, but as the anniversary fell exactly on the Friday, we had to go with the flow.
As a consequence I was unable to take my place on the traditional Paris trip for France v England in the Six Nations, nor was I able to follow my adopted Birkenhead Park RFC as they stuck one over Twickenhams near neighbours and fierce rivals, Staines, in the EDF Energy Intermediate Cup. We had dinner invites and weekend house guest options, all on the same weekend. See what I missed in Paris here.
In addition, I had been searching for weeks to obtain tickets for the Carling Cup final at Wembley given I had been granted dispensation for that one if I was successful. As it was I was allowed down the pub to watch, leaving the oldies and youngies to their Sunday follow-up party. Argyle, England and Spurs in one weekend is a pretty good treble though.
50 years married is not to be scoffed at, and far be it for me to do so. Marty and Win were married at about 18, and have raised four children to adulthood. The oldest, my wife, assures me she was a honeymoon baby, and given her 50th is later in the year, who am I to doubt her!
The era in which they were starting their family was, however, full of traditional values, and a community spirit which is less prevalent today. Parents and grandparents lived close by, as did uncles and aunts, and cousins and friends. As a nipper you would get a clip round the ear if you stepped out of line, administered by whichever relation caught you out. Often, as in the case of Marty and Win, you would start married life staying in a relatives home, until you could get something sorted out for yourselves.
Liverpool is a traditional catholic city, so the temptations of the flesh, and the associated divorce opportunities were frowned upon by the community. If you had problems indoors, then generally they stayed indoors, and people learnt to adapt and put up. Compare that with these days where many people choose not to get married at all for fear of failing to make a crack of it, or if they do, they find divorce is so easy to instigate one would expect Tesco to have a leaflet for it. I have many friends who have had long successful marriages, and I hope to get to a few 50th anniversaries in years to come.
The long distance relationship which my wife and I have enjoyed for nearly twenty years must have been in the genes, as Marty worked abroad for years in Saudi, and rendezvoused with Win in all sorts of towns and cities half way between. Maxine and I are counting our anniversaries from when we met, as its the only hope we have of a 50th!!
So well done to them, it is a notable milestone they have passed, and its an event well worth foregoing a rugby international for.....and those that know me understand that not much makes me miss a game!
Tuesday 26 February 2008
Friday 22 February 2008
Just two Keen
The concern surrounding the allowances paid to MPs has recently come home to roost for my current constituency representative, Ann Keen, and her husband Alan. Ann is the Labour MP for Brentford and Isleworth, which includes the West end of Chiswick. Unfortunately the would be conservative voters in this leafy suburb are not sufficient to outvote the traditional labour classes in the rest of her area.
Her husband is the MP for the neighbouring Feltham and Heston area. they live in a family house in Brentford.
Now, I can get from Brentford to Waterloo and on to Westminster in 45 minutes, I am sure they could too, but instead they have taken advantage of the £20,000 living allowance which they are entitled to, to purchase a £500,000 flat fifteen minutes walk from the Houses of Parliament. Whether they rent it out or use it themselves is unclear, however, since 2002 they have claimed a total in excess of £175,000.
Still, there is nothing like keeping it in the family. Ann Keen's sister Sylvia Heal is also an MP. Ann Keen's cousin Lady Glynis Kinnock is an MEP. Ann Keen's cousin's husband Lord Neil Kinnock is Chair of the British Council, former EU Commissioner and former Leader of the Labour Party and former MP. Ann Keen's cousins son Stephen until recently at least was (and maybe still is) the head of the British Council in St Petersburg, Russia and therefore employed by the British Government organisation chaired by his father, Lord Kinnock.
Alan is in his seventies, Ann is 60 this year. Recent photographs of her could give rise to suggestions that some of that afore mentioned £175,000 from public funds may have been spent on a bit of nip and tuck. Has she invented per chance, a new definition of taxidermy? I think we should be told.
Her husband is the MP for the neighbouring Feltham and Heston area. they live in a family house in Brentford.
Now, I can get from Brentford to Waterloo and on to Westminster in 45 minutes, I am sure they could too, but instead they have taken advantage of the £20,000 living allowance which they are entitled to, to purchase a £500,000 flat fifteen minutes walk from the Houses of Parliament. Whether they rent it out or use it themselves is unclear, however, since 2002 they have claimed a total in excess of £175,000.
Still, there is nothing like keeping it in the family. Ann Keen's sister Sylvia Heal is also an MP. Ann Keen's cousin Lady Glynis Kinnock is an MEP. Ann Keen's cousin's husband Lord Neil Kinnock is Chair of the British Council, former EU Commissioner and former Leader of the Labour Party and former MP. Ann Keen's cousins son Stephen until recently at least was (and maybe still is) the head of the British Council in St Petersburg, Russia and therefore employed by the British Government organisation chaired by his father, Lord Kinnock.
Alan is in his seventies, Ann is 60 this year. Recent photographs of her could give rise to suggestions that some of that afore mentioned £175,000 from public funds may have been spent on a bit of nip and tuck. Has she invented per chance, a new definition of taxidermy? I think we should be told.
Friday 15 February 2008
Talking 'bout my Generation
I saw a trailer for a new film last night. Its call 'The Bucket List' and features two old guys working out what they still had to do in life before they popped their clogs. It got me wondering.
I had a list when I was at school identifying bands I wanted to see, and sporting events to go to, and much of that list was successfully ticked off. I got to see The Stones, The Who, Simon and Garfunkel and Led Zep, and went to an England International at Wembley, and the League Cup Final, under whatever guise it was called then.
I never saw Cream, although I have seen the sum of its parts separately since they disbanded, and I have not been to an FA Cup Final as I vowed only to go when Spurs or Argyle actually made it there.
So if I started a new list, what would I put on it?
Well the Cup Final would be a carry over, although I have seen Argyle win at Wembley in the playoffs some years ago, Spurs getting there is a bit out of my hands though, so it would be sensible to include events over which i have some control.
I decided to start learning the piano when I was 40, with a view to being able to go into a pub, lift the lid on the beer stained Joanna and bash out a tune before I was 50. I missed that deadline big time, but am still persevering. I will be able to do it one day.
All golfers want to shoot a score lower than their age, on current form I would need to live into my eighties to do that. It could happen though, check this interesting article out about age expectancy.
Holidays have started to be linked with the bucket list. I want to cruise to Alaska while there is still ice up there, and visit the Indian sub-continent, probably to watch some cricket. Seeing Aussie play in Aus would be good too, although whether they would better the Windies in St Lucia for atmosphere, I am not sure.
I have done an Olympics, and seen the All Blacks in Auckland and attended a Rugby World Cup or two. The kids are all reasonable settled so there is not anything I particularly need to do for them over and above the usual parental bit. It would be good, though, to see a grandchild play or perform on a major stage or sporting arena, something else over which I have no control though.
Culturally, I have done the last night of the Proms a couple of times, but never been to a ballet or opera, Paris or Rome seem good venues to do that in. I have stared in wonder at the Grand Canyon and taken the tram to the top of the Peak in Hong Kong.
So it looks like I need to spend some time getting my top ten together, and then hope I don't find a bucket where a footie should be, in the foreseeable future!
I had a list when I was at school identifying bands I wanted to see, and sporting events to go to, and much of that list was successfully ticked off. I got to see The Stones, The Who, Simon and Garfunkel and Led Zep, and went to an England International at Wembley, and the League Cup Final, under whatever guise it was called then.
I never saw Cream, although I have seen the sum of its parts separately since they disbanded, and I have not been to an FA Cup Final as I vowed only to go when Spurs or Argyle actually made it there.
So if I started a new list, what would I put on it?
Well the Cup Final would be a carry over, although I have seen Argyle win at Wembley in the playoffs some years ago, Spurs getting there is a bit out of my hands though, so it would be sensible to include events over which i have some control.
I decided to start learning the piano when I was 40, with a view to being able to go into a pub, lift the lid on the beer stained Joanna and bash out a tune before I was 50. I missed that deadline big time, but am still persevering. I will be able to do it one day.
All golfers want to shoot a score lower than their age, on current form I would need to live into my eighties to do that. It could happen though, check this interesting article out about age expectancy.
Holidays have started to be linked with the bucket list. I want to cruise to Alaska while there is still ice up there, and visit the Indian sub-continent, probably to watch some cricket. Seeing Aussie play in Aus would be good too, although whether they would better the Windies in St Lucia for atmosphere, I am not sure.
I have done an Olympics, and seen the All Blacks in Auckland and attended a Rugby World Cup or two. The kids are all reasonable settled so there is not anything I particularly need to do for them over and above the usual parental bit. It would be good, though, to see a grandchild play or perform on a major stage or sporting arena, something else over which I have no control though.
Culturally, I have done the last night of the Proms a couple of times, but never been to a ballet or opera, Paris or Rome seem good venues to do that in. I have stared in wonder at the Grand Canyon and taken the tram to the top of the Peak in Hong Kong.
So it looks like I need to spend some time getting my top ten together, and then hope I don't find a bucket where a footie should be, in the foreseeable future!
Tuesday 12 February 2008
...faces all a glow ow ow ow.....
Rome is a delightful city, particularly when it is bathed in brilliant late Winter sunshine. It was this weekend, and I was fortunate to be there.
The continued 6 Nations rugby had forced me to leave the comfort of my warm cosy bed at 04:45 on Saturday morning and make the short trip to Heathrow. Now, I was not aware that the time was ever 04:45 on a Saturday morning, however, the amount of traffic on the M4 indicated that many others obviously did!
Still we got to Rome mid-morning, and found a very hospitable restaurant for a long and leisurely lunch somewhere near the Spanish Steps, we followed that with a quick change and an evening meal in a posh restaurant near our hotel. Following that we ended with Irish coffee in Harrys Bar, where we watched the world go by before retiring to bed. So much for sightseeing.
The game this year was on a Sunday, although I am sure it always is!! So down to breakfast to find the referee team are staying at the same hotel. We eavesdropped in on their pre-match briefing and learnt that the 'ref mikes' were not working for the Scotland v France game, much to everybodies embarrassment, and that the Italian number 2 was used in so many examples of potential flare-ups that he must be worth looking out for!!
So, more food before the game, then off to the stadium. England ground out a win, although I thought the papers were unkind to them. Their play without the ball was world class, it was just when they were in possession that they lacked a bit of composure. Give them time and I am sure it will come together. Guess what we did then, yep, more food at a restaurant owned by Luigi, as in 'Hey Luigi'.
We fell on our feet here though. He was a mad Lazio football fan, but his son at 9 years old had decided he wanted to play rugby. Dad not too enthusiastic until he found out Lazio have a rugby team. Now his son plays for the U15s and he is in the Vets, both of them are props!!
Nightcaps to follow in a suspected gay bar but that was never confirmed, and up the next morning for home. It took us 30 minutes from landing at Heathrow to arriving back in Chis with our luggage! I must use that as a house selling point.
Oh yes, we did not use a taxi once all weekend, just one tram ride back from the game, and tube and train too and from the airport. Excellent.
The continued 6 Nations rugby had forced me to leave the comfort of my warm cosy bed at 04:45 on Saturday morning and make the short trip to Heathrow. Now, I was not aware that the time was ever 04:45 on a Saturday morning, however, the amount of traffic on the M4 indicated that many others obviously did!
Still we got to Rome mid-morning, and found a very hospitable restaurant for a long and leisurely lunch somewhere near the Spanish Steps, we followed that with a quick change and an evening meal in a posh restaurant near our hotel. Following that we ended with Irish coffee in Harrys Bar, where we watched the world go by before retiring to bed. So much for sightseeing.
The game this year was on a Sunday, although I am sure it always is!! So down to breakfast to find the referee team are staying at the same hotel. We eavesdropped in on their pre-match briefing and learnt that the 'ref mikes' were not working for the Scotland v France game, much to everybodies embarrassment, and that the Italian number 2 was used in so many examples of potential flare-ups that he must be worth looking out for!!
So, more food before the game, then off to the stadium. England ground out a win, although I thought the papers were unkind to them. Their play without the ball was world class, it was just when they were in possession that they lacked a bit of composure. Give them time and I am sure it will come together. Guess what we did then, yep, more food at a restaurant owned by Luigi, as in 'Hey Luigi'.
We fell on our feet here though. He was a mad Lazio football fan, but his son at 9 years old had decided he wanted to play rugby. Dad not too enthusiastic until he found out Lazio have a rugby team. Now his son plays for the U15s and he is in the Vets, both of them are props!!
Nightcaps to follow in a suspected gay bar but that was never confirmed, and up the next morning for home. It took us 30 minutes from landing at Heathrow to arriving back in Chis with our luggage! I must use that as a house selling point.
Oh yes, we did not use a taxi once all weekend, just one tram ride back from the game, and tube and train too and from the airport. Excellent.
Sunday 3 February 2008
Ashton-Under-Slime
Do you ever have one of those days? well, I think I did yesterday......
It started at midday when I went to the RFU office to pick up 3 duplicate tickets for the England v Wales rugby international, remember that word, duplicate. These were tickets which we were assured had been left in Cleakheaton, and they , therefore, gave three of my regular rugby colleagues the chance to bring three of their children.
This detour meant that I had to hot foot it to Richmond to join the drinking session a little later than planned. That went OK although the pub insists on showing football when it is full of rugby supporters. Given the match kicked off at 16:30 yesterday, I had arranged food at Zizzi's in the town centre. I booked for 13:45 thinking we could arrive about 14:00 and all would be sweetness and light. First crisis of the day, they had given our table (for 14) away aledging they had rung me to see where we were. They hadn't so we returned to the pub for more pints of foaming Pride and burger and chips 14 times!
Still we had the bus trip to the ground to look forward to, and after a fine rendition of Jeruselum, Sloop John B, Bloody Great Fishes are Wales, and others, we arrived in good time to take our seats.
Crisis number two. The three tickets left in Cleakheaton had in fact been posted by the owner to his son-in-law in High Wycombe, and he and his chums were sitting just where we had hoped to be. His father-in-law has a touch of Alzheimers, and had forgotten he had posted them on, so his problems are obviously greater than ours.
I watched the game from eight different seats as I got shuffled around the stand, and frankly after the second half, it was eight vantage points too many. Don't let any one eyed welshman cons you into believing Wales won, the stark reality is England lost. Do I really want to pay £68 to watch a product which is not up to scratch?
I should be used to it though, for years, the match has always been the low point of the day.
More disappointment followed though as Manchester United salvaged a draw with the last kick of the game against Spurs, and the Argyle crisis continued with a 1-0 defeatat home to Hull. As a point of interest these two cities, Plymouth and Hull, are the two biggest in the Country never to have experienced top flight football.
So as days go it was pretty harrowing, but all clouds have a silver lining, and following a very good sesh in the Prince Blucher, with all the right sort of company, and a few pleasant distrations, a bus came along just as we were leaving. That meant a quick call to the local takeaway meant it stayed open a few minutes late to allow the day to finish with the first food for over twelve hours.
Bread of Heaven, bah! give me Chinese of Chiswick any time!!!
It started at midday when I went to the RFU office to pick up 3 duplicate tickets for the England v Wales rugby international, remember that word, duplicate. These were tickets which we were assured had been left in Cleakheaton, and they , therefore, gave three of my regular rugby colleagues the chance to bring three of their children.
This detour meant that I had to hot foot it to Richmond to join the drinking session a little later than planned. That went OK although the pub insists on showing football when it is full of rugby supporters. Given the match kicked off at 16:30 yesterday, I had arranged food at Zizzi's in the town centre. I booked for 13:45 thinking we could arrive about 14:00 and all would be sweetness and light. First crisis of the day, they had given our table (for 14) away aledging they had rung me to see where we were. They hadn't so we returned to the pub for more pints of foaming Pride and burger and chips 14 times!
Still we had the bus trip to the ground to look forward to, and after a fine rendition of Jeruselum, Sloop John B, Bloody Great Fishes are Wales, and others, we arrived in good time to take our seats.
Crisis number two. The three tickets left in Cleakheaton had in fact been posted by the owner to his son-in-law in High Wycombe, and he and his chums were sitting just where we had hoped to be. His father-in-law has a touch of Alzheimers, and had forgotten he had posted them on, so his problems are obviously greater than ours.
I watched the game from eight different seats as I got shuffled around the stand, and frankly after the second half, it was eight vantage points too many. Don't let any one eyed welshman cons you into believing Wales won, the stark reality is England lost. Do I really want to pay £68 to watch a product which is not up to scratch?
I should be used to it though, for years, the match has always been the low point of the day.
More disappointment followed though as Manchester United salvaged a draw with the last kick of the game against Spurs, and the Argyle crisis continued with a 1-0 defeatat home to Hull. As a point of interest these two cities, Plymouth and Hull, are the two biggest in the Country never to have experienced top flight football.
So as days go it was pretty harrowing, but all clouds have a silver lining, and following a very good sesh in the Prince Blucher, with all the right sort of company, and a few pleasant distrations, a bus came along just as we were leaving. That meant a quick call to the local takeaway meant it stayed open a few minutes late to allow the day to finish with the first food for over twelve hours.
Bread of Heaven, bah! give me Chinese of Chiswick any time!!!
Friday 1 February 2008
The Tremeloes
We are fast approaching another anniversary, that of the Munich air disaster, which decimated the Manchester United football team, referred to at the time as the Busby Babes.
Rememberance activity includes a minute silence at the Manchester derby next week, and the forthcoming England v Switzeland game at Wembley on Wednesday. It is truely amazing how degraded working class (or the unemployed) values have fallen, that both these memorials have been in doubt because the authorities cannot guarantee the minute silence being observed.
If the event were at Twickenham, The Odsal Stadium, Wimbledon or the NEC, then I am sure the same nervousness would not surface, so what is it about this event? Are Manchester United hated that much these days, that this oafishness rises to the surface, even though press and public with no connection to United were killed in the crash as well?
The crash happened at a time when values were different, when parents and families commanded respect, when arguements at school were settled with fist fights, not knives, when kids in pubs sat in the beer garden with a bottle of pop and a straw, and when they could walk to school safely with their chums. These values are long gone in many societies and probably can't be reintroduced, but lets hope a little bit of credibility can be restored to the beautiful game on these two occasssions in much the same way as it was at Anfield, when they played the Everton theme tune, 'Z-Cars' for the memory of the murdered schoolboy, Rhys Jones.
On a lighter note, on Monday the youth team of Plymouth Argyle beat Birmingham City to reach the quarter finals of the cup, the first time they have got that far since 1956. On that occassion they were drawn away aginst the Busby Babes at Old Trafford. They lost heavily, with Bobby Charlton scoring six, and Duncan Edwards, who subsequently died in the crash, played having already been capped by England.
Rememberance activity includes a minute silence at the Manchester derby next week, and the forthcoming England v Switzeland game at Wembley on Wednesday. It is truely amazing how degraded working class (or the unemployed) values have fallen, that both these memorials have been in doubt because the authorities cannot guarantee the minute silence being observed.
If the event were at Twickenham, The Odsal Stadium, Wimbledon or the NEC, then I am sure the same nervousness would not surface, so what is it about this event? Are Manchester United hated that much these days, that this oafishness rises to the surface, even though press and public with no connection to United were killed in the crash as well?
The crash happened at a time when values were different, when parents and families commanded respect, when arguements at school were settled with fist fights, not knives, when kids in pubs sat in the beer garden with a bottle of pop and a straw, and when they could walk to school safely with their chums. These values are long gone in many societies and probably can't be reintroduced, but lets hope a little bit of credibility can be restored to the beautiful game on these two occasssions in much the same way as it was at Anfield, when they played the Everton theme tune, 'Z-Cars' for the memory of the murdered schoolboy, Rhys Jones.
On a lighter note, on Monday the youth team of Plymouth Argyle beat Birmingham City to reach the quarter finals of the cup, the first time they have got that far since 1956. On that occassion they were drawn away aginst the Busby Babes at Old Trafford. They lost heavily, with Bobby Charlton scoring six, and Duncan Edwards, who subsequently died in the crash, played having already been capped by England.
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