A poem written by Rhys’s father, Stephen
Now God wanted a football match
And to play it up in heaven
But first he needed players
And select his first eleven
Georgie Best, big Brian Labone
The legend Dixie Dean
Alan Ball and Bobby Moore
All made it in the team
He needed one more player
Someone who would be quick
From up above he looked down
And saw Rhys there in his kit
So Rhys was taken up above
God took him by the hand
To play the game he loved so much
Where sponsorship is banned
There is no cheating either
asGod is the referee
There are no mega wages
And the transfers they are free
The games are live on telly
You don't have to subscribe
The players all stay on their feet
Cos no one takes a dive
So Rhys plays now so happily
To the angels in the crowd
And every time he hits the net
They roar his name so loud
Have fun my little blue boy
You’re safe and in God’s care
‘Till it’s time for me to get my boots
And join with you up there
Friday, 31 August 2007
Thursday, 30 August 2007
Don't dubbin the toecaps, Mum.....
I am having a Glenda Slag moment today, triggered by the latest front page expose of David Beckhams knee injury.
Ah that sweet David Beckham don't you just love his tattooed torso and stunning good looks, wizzing down the wing for England. I would love to massage his groin strain anytime...............David Beckham, what a big girls blouse, calls himself a footballer, with his metatarsal of a girlfriend and dodgy knees ( no connection there for sure) the States are welcome to him. Beckham, you Yank.(geddit!!).
Metatarsals now they are strange little bones aren't they, discovered by your average football player about 4 years ago when the bones featured in the Bash Street Kids Christmas Annual. Since then the players have been going over like nine pins. 'Desperate Dan' Rooney, Steven 'the scouse' Gerrard, Gary 'Trotsky' Neville and, oh yes, 'break it like' Beckham himself have all had damaged meta's.
Well I have the answer, give them some proper boot like I used to wear. Our Jackie Milburn, Tom Finney, Dickie Dean and Billie Wright never had such injuries, and why? Proper boots. ......... now wheres that hammer, the nails are coming through my feet again......
Tuesday, 28 August 2007
Hammer and Sickle
I have just spent the Summer Bank Holiday reconditioning a shed in my back garden.
A shed is an integral part of a married mans armoury, and it will show definite strength of character if, when asking for either of our daughters hand in marriage, the individual concerned can appreciate a regard for garden sheds, and the understanding of all that they represent. Otherwise it might show a lack of understanding for the need to retreat, at certain times during a relationship to maintain ones sanity.
I am lucky enough to have three sheds. One is appropriately called a bike shed, and by its very nature is long and thin. Apart from room for two, maybe three, bikes it also houses miscellaneous tools and decorating materials.
In the main shed I have incorporates a work surface, vice and storage racks onto which I place items which I might just have a use for ten or fifteen years down the line. The drawers are full of half used packs of nails, balls of string and rusted hand tools, many inherited from family members or neighbours who are having a clear out. Old tools I find are a bit like business cards, not always welcome but once received, rarely thrown out.
It is disappointing that my shed does not have a window, although I have installed power so I can read long into the night or watch the TV from the battered old armchair which sits majestically in one corner. It is these three items which form the fundamentals of life in the garden shed so that when in residence, either through choice or as a tactical withdrawal, home comforts can be close at hand. Mobile phones have even meant a walkie talkie system is not now needed for those 'any chance of a cuppa tea?' type conversations.
The third shed I have is actually a Wendy House, and it was part of the furnishings and fittings which came with our purchase of the bigger house. It was this shed I was refurbishing. The weather has taken its toll on it, so part of the floor, the bottom side panels and the decorative entrance all needed repair or replacement, and a coat of paint. It now looks almost new. As we have no young children to make regular use of the Wendy House, it is used to store garden chairs, games and golf stuff.
Its greatest asset though is that it has an upper floor, which in times of great stress can be furnished with a mattress and used as an overnight sleeping venue.
It has already been put to the test by number two son who holds the world record for losing door keys and has therefore been known to kip in the shed until such time as somebody comes home, when asked how it was, he replied 'okay'.......oh the joy of youth.
A shed is an integral part of a married mans armoury, and it will show definite strength of character if, when asking for either of our daughters hand in marriage, the individual concerned can appreciate a regard for garden sheds, and the understanding of all that they represent. Otherwise it might show a lack of understanding for the need to retreat, at certain times during a relationship to maintain ones sanity.
I am lucky enough to have three sheds. One is appropriately called a bike shed, and by its very nature is long and thin. Apart from room for two, maybe three, bikes it also houses miscellaneous tools and decorating materials.
In the main shed I have incorporates a work surface, vice and storage racks onto which I place items which I might just have a use for ten or fifteen years down the line. The drawers are full of half used packs of nails, balls of string and rusted hand tools, many inherited from family members or neighbours who are having a clear out. Old tools I find are a bit like business cards, not always welcome but once received, rarely thrown out.
It is disappointing that my shed does not have a window, although I have installed power so I can read long into the night or watch the TV from the battered old armchair which sits majestically in one corner. It is these three items which form the fundamentals of life in the garden shed so that when in residence, either through choice or as a tactical withdrawal, home comforts can be close at hand. Mobile phones have even meant a walkie talkie system is not now needed for those 'any chance of a cuppa tea?' type conversations.
The third shed I have is actually a Wendy House, and it was part of the furnishings and fittings which came with our purchase of the bigger house. It was this shed I was refurbishing. The weather has taken its toll on it, so part of the floor, the bottom side panels and the decorative entrance all needed repair or replacement, and a coat of paint. It now looks almost new. As we have no young children to make regular use of the Wendy House, it is used to store garden chairs, games and golf stuff.
Its greatest asset though is that it has an upper floor, which in times of great stress can be furnished with a mattress and used as an overnight sleeping venue.
It has already been put to the test by number two son who holds the world record for losing door keys and has therefore been known to kip in the shed until such time as somebody comes home, when asked how it was, he replied 'okay'.......oh the joy of youth.
Friday, 24 August 2007
Crikey!
So once more the country rejoices to the news of record 'A' and 'O' level results, OK I know they are called GCSEs, but they are 'O' levels to me. So what is really happening on our education system that every year results seem to get better and better. Are the examinations easier? Is the pass mark being artificially lowered so that 45% correct now means you get an A? Do teachers coach rather than teach these days, and is internet plagiarism and assignment co-operation leading to learning by rote.
Teaching is a peculiar profession. Many times I have been involved in discussions about the difficulty of teaching children, and I would be the first to admit that more and more parents acquiesce all moral and disciplinary responsibility to teachers. Teachers in turn are restricted in the disciplinary measures they can use, and hence the education system turns out, or fails more and more 'latchkey' kids as I would call them. The tragic incident in Croxteth yesterday being the extreme result of such a breakdown.
Going back to basic education though, worryingly the latest figures show that the number of children with adequate English and maths qualifications is dropping and is approaching a level of less than 50%. Now if we are producing that level of numeracy and grammar after 11 years of teaching a child, then the system really does need looking at.
I have referred before to the levelling of the educational playing field under the Blair administration, maybe the old adage that a teacher with 15 years experience really only has one years experience duplicated 15 times, is coming back to haunt us. I don't know the answer, but parental control, discipline at school, and respect for other people, have to be drilled into our kids at an early age, and re-enforced as they grow up. Only then will educational standards be judged as having improved and such improvements will be universally welcomed and applauded.
Teaching is a peculiar profession. Many times I have been involved in discussions about the difficulty of teaching children, and I would be the first to admit that more and more parents acquiesce all moral and disciplinary responsibility to teachers. Teachers in turn are restricted in the disciplinary measures they can use, and hence the education system turns out, or fails more and more 'latchkey' kids as I would call them. The tragic incident in Croxteth yesterday being the extreme result of such a breakdown.
Going back to basic education though, worryingly the latest figures show that the number of children with adequate English and maths qualifications is dropping and is approaching a level of less than 50%. Now if we are producing that level of numeracy and grammar after 11 years of teaching a child, then the system really does need looking at.
I have referred before to the levelling of the educational playing field under the Blair administration, maybe the old adage that a teacher with 15 years experience really only has one years experience duplicated 15 times, is coming back to haunt us. I don't know the answer, but parental control, discipline at school, and respect for other people, have to be drilled into our kids at an early age, and re-enforced as they grow up. Only then will educational standards be judged as having improved and such improvements will be universally welcomed and applauded.
Tuesday, 21 August 2007
The Crystal Maze
Work took me on a magical mystery tour for South London yesterday, as I travelled by train to Crawley and Three Bridges. The Northcote Road area of Clapham Junction has changed out of all recognition. While the street market still exists, and the Northcote Arms is still on the corner, its clientele now consists of yummy mummies and City types rather than poor students and bed sit dwellers. The Bank was a bank in my day, its now a gastropub, and there are the obligatory coffee shops, cheese and butchers outlets. The bakery I used to live above is now a designer breadshop. I wonder if the cockroaches still live upstairs??
On then through Balham, gateway to the South, a picture of which sits on my lounge wall to remind me of the times. We had good fun in and around Bedford Hill, and Devonshire Road. We were not quite on first name terms with the working girls, but the fact that the Bedford Arms is now owned by the Soho House group shows how that area is well up market too now. That said, you did used to be able to buy Chocolate Oliver biscuits in the old fashioned Cullens store in Balham High Road.
Thornton Heath has two great Youngs pubs, The Fountains Head and the Lord Napier, the latter is a big band and jazz pub in the Glenn Miller style. I must schedule a trip back there when Argyle play Crystal Palace.
I brought my first house in Norbury, and Tim was born in Mayday hospital just outside Croydon. I always thought it a strange name for an A & E department!
The train then swept in and out of Croydon giving me just a glimpse of the old IBM office that I first worked in and the Porter and Sorter featured previously in this blog. Croydon is still one of those places which is easy to get into but a nightmare to find your way out of. Just as well then that I was on the train.
Croydon has not changed much since I worked there thirty years ago, although it does have a tram now which goes from Wimbledon to various locations in South London. I took it once from there to Addington and walked on to Shirley Wanderers RFC for their 50th anniversary celebrations. The clubhouse was a bit like Croydon, in as much as there were the same old faces there from the mid '70s when I played regularly for them.
Rugby was a great game to play in those days, but watching the two matches at the weekend, I am beginning to think that its days are numbered. Their big chap runs into our big chap, then we do the same. Flair and enterprise seem to have disappeared.
I don't enjoy rugby league as Ii feel I am watching the same game every week, and with a few exceptions union seems to be going the same way. I do hope the rugby world cup will revitalise my enthusiasm for the game, or once again during a crackingly good social weekend, the match will become the low point.
On then through Balham, gateway to the South, a picture of which sits on my lounge wall to remind me of the times. We had good fun in and around Bedford Hill, and Devonshire Road. We were not quite on first name terms with the working girls, but the fact that the Bedford Arms is now owned by the Soho House group shows how that area is well up market too now. That said, you did used to be able to buy Chocolate Oliver biscuits in the old fashioned Cullens store in Balham High Road.
Thornton Heath has two great Youngs pubs, The Fountains Head and the Lord Napier, the latter is a big band and jazz pub in the Glenn Miller style. I must schedule a trip back there when Argyle play Crystal Palace.
I brought my first house in Norbury, and Tim was born in Mayday hospital just outside Croydon. I always thought it a strange name for an A & E department!
The train then swept in and out of Croydon giving me just a glimpse of the old IBM office that I first worked in and the Porter and Sorter featured previously in this blog. Croydon is still one of those places which is easy to get into but a nightmare to find your way out of. Just as well then that I was on the train.
Croydon has not changed much since I worked there thirty years ago, although it does have a tram now which goes from Wimbledon to various locations in South London. I took it once from there to Addington and walked on to Shirley Wanderers RFC for their 50th anniversary celebrations. The clubhouse was a bit like Croydon, in as much as there were the same old faces there from the mid '70s when I played regularly for them.
Rugby was a great game to play in those days, but watching the two matches at the weekend, I am beginning to think that its days are numbered. Their big chap runs into our big chap, then we do the same. Flair and enterprise seem to have disappeared.
I don't enjoy rugby league as Ii feel I am watching the same game every week, and with a few exceptions union seems to be going the same way. I do hope the rugby world cup will revitalise my enthusiasm for the game, or once again during a crackingly good social weekend, the match will become the low point.
Friday, 17 August 2007
Oxymoron
I have had serious toothache this week, and anybody who knows me has been keeping well clear. Grumpy is not in it. To indicate how bad the pain was, I have been popping painkillers like smarties, and I am normally so against them you would not believe.
To a certain extent its my own fault. I knew I needed some treatment, so went to see my regular dental practise, knowing my usual dentist had moved away to start his own.
I found his replacement did not do NHS treatment, and after assessing my dental needs, two fillings and a crown, he quoted almost £400. He also took great delight in showing me his gold fillings and saying they were the way to go and I should have them. I took an instant dislike to the guy, and thought if I was going to pay that amount of money I would rather give it to somebody else.
He was also arrogant and rude to his dental nurse, but I am informed this is not unusual. My wife is in the trade and knows a thing or two about it.
So, I thought I would find a practise taking on NHS patients and rang the local NHS patient assistance line (PALS). They gave me a few names, but before registering with any of them I lodged a piece of wheatgerm in the damaged cavity and pierced into the nerve.......hurt or what!!
So now I am patched up. I found a very pleasant Polish dentist in Acton who assessed me, although he declined me as an NHS patient as the work was not worth his while for the fixed fees he can claim from them. He did quote £250 though and made no mention of crowns, just standard fillings. I mentioned the fact that I played for London Polish RFC in my youth, in Balham, South London and that seemed to help the relationship. he said he could see me on the NHS for checkups and other 'minor' work, so that was a step int he right direction.
The Polish connection reminded me of my embarrassing moment on the H22 bus after a recent rugby match when I engaged a young lady in conversation. She was not too keen to talk and said she did not understand as she was Polish. I then impishly asked her was she a plumber or an electrician....she got off at the next stop!
Talking of teeth, a few weeks ago there was an article about a chap who had crashed his new £125,000 BMW into a lamp post when he took his girlfriend out for a spin in it. Apparently she distracted him while he was driving and he was quoted as being relieved when, on impact, she had screamed!
To a certain extent its my own fault. I knew I needed some treatment, so went to see my regular dental practise, knowing my usual dentist had moved away to start his own.
I found his replacement did not do NHS treatment, and after assessing my dental needs, two fillings and a crown, he quoted almost £400. He also took great delight in showing me his gold fillings and saying they were the way to go and I should have them. I took an instant dislike to the guy, and thought if I was going to pay that amount of money I would rather give it to somebody else.
He was also arrogant and rude to his dental nurse, but I am informed this is not unusual. My wife is in the trade and knows a thing or two about it.
So, I thought I would find a practise taking on NHS patients and rang the local NHS patient assistance line (PALS). They gave me a few names, but before registering with any of them I lodged a piece of wheatgerm in the damaged cavity and pierced into the nerve.......hurt or what!!
So now I am patched up. I found a very pleasant Polish dentist in Acton who assessed me, although he declined me as an NHS patient as the work was not worth his while for the fixed fees he can claim from them. He did quote £250 though and made no mention of crowns, just standard fillings. I mentioned the fact that I played for London Polish RFC in my youth, in Balham, South London and that seemed to help the relationship. he said he could see me on the NHS for checkups and other 'minor' work, so that was a step int he right direction.
The Polish connection reminded me of my embarrassing moment on the H22 bus after a recent rugby match when I engaged a young lady in conversation. She was not too keen to talk and said she did not understand as she was Polish. I then impishly asked her was she a plumber or an electrician....she got off at the next stop!
Talking of teeth, a few weeks ago there was an article about a chap who had crashed his new £125,000 BMW into a lamp post when he took his girlfriend out for a spin in it. Apparently she distracted him while he was driving and he was quoted as being relieved when, on impact, she had screamed!
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
The Police are looking for a motive
The housing market seems to have ground to a halt here in Chiswick during August, and it got my cousin and I thinking of the estate agent speak for such an event. There is in fact an estate agents calendar.
- January - market is slow sir, no money about after Christmas
- February - too cold, not many people looking
- March - a lot of people away what with Easter and the skiing season
- April - good time to put the house on the market, it should pick up with the weather
- May - not a good time to be buying, would have to move in August during the holidays
- June- a window of opportunity
- July - people saving for their holidays
- August - people on their holidays
- September - back from their holidays and start of a new school year, not a good time to look
- October - evenings getting darker so people less keen to view
- November - saving up for Christmas
- December - Christmas
They also have aspect speak,
- South facing garden, full sun
- West facing garden, nearly South facing , sun in the evening
- East facing garden, sun in the morning
- North facing garden, beautiful views
We have seen a few properties with a view to buy but I am reluctant to put a bid in until our place is under offer. The prices continue to amaze though. Emma,our youngest daughter, has just offered on a one bed flat on the Wirral for less than £70,000. A two bed in Chis is hard to find for five times that.
Anyway, we press on and hope for a change in fortune shortly.....at least the inflation rate reduction looks like it might delay a further interest rise for a while......lets just hope the financial markets don't go into meltdown on the back of the USA mortgage crisis.
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