Pimples

On Sunday, Lewis Hamilton, a racing driver supported by a team of over 1000 people, who races maybe twenty times a year and has only one serious rival, won the BBC Sports Personality of the Year award for 2014.

He beat Rory McIlory, a golfer, into second place. McIlroy has probably fifty rivals, all capable of beating him on their day. He plays probably 30 times a year, and is supported by a small team which includes his caddy, coach,  management team and various suppliers and sponsors.

Whether it was the right decision is taking up a lot of column inches in the newspapers at the moment. Hamilton won the F1 World Championship, which he has won previously. McIlroy won the Open Championship and the US PGA championship. No European has ever done that before in the same year. He also won the Bridgestone Invitational and the PGA championship at Wentworth. He was also part of the European Ryder Cup team who defeated the USA.

McIlroy has a personality, Hamilton is a bit dull. So it would seem that petrolhead's took the trouble to vote, whereas golfers didn't.

Sadly it's another sign of the fading star which SPOTY has become. SPOTY has always been a must watch in our family, and I can remember the sixties programmes when the BBC had most of the sporting coverage in the World to use to produce their programme. Henry Cooper won the title twice, and he never really won anything of significance in his sport. David Steel was sent out to face the barrage of West Indian fast bowling and almost single-handedly saved England from ignominy. He won it for true British spunk.

More recently, however, the BBC have struggled to find any sporting coverage to populate the programme with as Sky and now BT, hoover up all the best events. The 2014 show reached new depths with repeated voiceovers by Eddie 'the idiot' Butler, listing the names of great British sports personalities, but showing almost no action at all.

The BBC must have know the writing was on the wall when in 2009, a year with no Olympics, World Cup or Commonwealth Games, the winner was Ryan Giggs, an aging Welsh footballer who is best know outside football for bedding his own brother's wife. Jenson Button came second that year so even the petrolhead's must have been bored with the whole thing.

Aging pop band Simple Minds opened the show on Sunday, and that, sadly,  is a suitable  phrase to refer to the BBC blazers who masterminded the whole thing.

A Prial of Teas

Blimey what a few days we have had. The weekend saw us celebrating SWMBO's fathers 75th birthday, her parents house warming party and the christening of Nell and Ava. Actually it was billed as a blessing  but there was water and cake involved  and with some imagination we managed to combine all three celebrations into one afternoon.

The London branch came up for the do's. Tim and Maya came on Friday and Mike and Val on Saturday, so I was finally able to have a team photo with my five grandchildren.

The previous week Pete and Maria had come up for a few nights as sadly her brother died, but they are now over in Australia for Christmas. Graham then turned up for the Liverpool European Cup tie, meaning we had nine visitors in less than a week.

I did check the guest book for comments, but sadly the pages were empty, but that did not stop SWMBO and I going out for our works Christmas party at the Refreshment Rooms in Rock Ferry last night, and a good time was had by all.

Its a bit off the beaten track on the Mersey in a part of Rock Park which in its day was home to seafaring men, merchants and company bigwigs. Indeed the Royal Liverpool Yacht Club is right next door in the shadow of Cammell Laird ship builders, both sit as a reminder of how Birkenhead used to be the senior partner in the Merseyside relationship.

So now on to Christmas. The tree arrived yesterday and I have already managed to break the top bit off, so not sure where the fairy is going to go, no doubt number one daughter will sort it out.

Christmas bash in Manchester next Friday should be chaos, and I have the annual opportunity to win festive meat at the Wallasey golf club turkey trot on Sunday, and the Seniors equivalent on Monday.
Things are hotting up.

I have no wish to be PM

So said Boris Johnson many times , although the jovial, blond haired serial shagger is still considered by most of the popular press to be lining himself up for a shot at our Dave, once the next elections are out of the way.

I have very rarely dabbled in politics, and my comparisons with Boris Johnson are fairly limited, my hair is grey for a start. It does seem, however, that this may  be changing as I have recently been informed that I am Chairman elect of the Wallasey golf club seniors  section. At the moment the nomination is unopposed although one is usually assured of the majority of the house when endorsed by the outgoing member, as I am.

If successful in March, I will join a line of illustrious Wallasey members, many of them ex-captains, who have held the one year office.  The benefits are wide and varied. I get automatic selection to all the inter-club matches. These include Sandiway, Southport & Ainsdale, Heswall, Chester and Mere.
I get to tee off first with the opposition chairman, captain or senior golfer, the title varies from club to club, and, I get to address both teams as part of the after dinner 'entertainment'.

This speech usually consists of thanks to the host club, my playing partners and the staff. If playing away I  then announce the result of the match, and finally tell a story. It's this last bit that is thwart with danger. Will it be risqué?  Will the home chairman tell my story just before I stand up?should it be a joke, an anecdote or a parable? I will have eighteen such opportunities so hopefully will get the formula right by the end.

It's a huge privilege to be asked to take on the role,  given I am a soft Southerner and a relatively new member of the club. I look forward to being elected, and serving the Senior section, and wider Club membership during my year in office, with humour, humility and hospitality. Can't say fairer than that, and gentlemen, that reminds me..........

In at the deep end

SWMBO arrived back safely in London at the weekend after her second trip to Tanzania to help train dental nurses as part of the Bridge to Aid scheme. She was based in the NorthEast on this occasion which allowed her to see some of the Serengeti as she was transported there. Zebra, monkey's and wildebeest were in evidence, but whether one of them was Alice is still unclear.

We then hot foot it to Alexander's christening where the poor soul was submerged in a bath of freezing water by the minister. He was christened at the same Russian Orthodox church as his sister, by the same minister, and it was still hard to watch as this little body was thrown about in gay abandon. Her cousin Ava was looking on and wondering if she had the same fate in store when she comes to getting baptised.

The reception was in the Hole in the Wall in Chiswick and I regaled the gathering with stories of a fireworks party I attended at the same venue, many years ago, when a helicopter firework came adrift and shot into the bar severely burning on of the lady punters. Not nice. Doom Bar was £3.95 a pint. It's £2.80 in the local in Oxton Village!

SWMBO and I then departed for Scouseland leaving the girls to go to Legoland. On arriving home SWMBO was presented with her brand new redecorated bedroom which a friend of mine, Peter, and I had totally rebuild while she was away. She seemed to like it although there does not appear to be enough space for all her clothes to fit back into it, it seems like a clearout may be in order.

Strangely enough I found a rugby shirt from the Protea's club in Zimbabwe which the Wildebeest had given me years ago. Its funny how ends tie up sometime.

Boys will be boys

News that the London School of Economics rugby team have been suspended from playing for one year by their student union really does signal the end of amateur rugby as I and my peers know it.

In these times of political correctness and positive discrimination, one would have expected a group of men who are targeting high profile and influential  roles in society to be a bit more aware of the potential uproar their advertising flyer could have caused.

I found some of the comments amusing in the way I found student rag mags a good way to pass an underground journey in the '70s and '80s. Some of the comments I suspect were also close to the truth. Sadly one has to be so careful these days about going into print with potentially female ( or other minority group) comments which could be taken as not too complimentary.

The event did remind me, however, of the way one traditional rugby club embraced the ethos of new player induction, and the ladies were fully supportive. The team in question had their pitch and clubhouse on the edge of the village, and after the first away game of the season, new members of the club were dropped off on the ring road in just their birthday suit and trainers. They then had to run through the village to the clubhouse while the coach went several miles round the village to reach the same destination. The players were encouraged to get there first, by most of the female population who turned out on this notable date to cheer them on and check out the new talent!  The police turned a blind eye as several of them played for the local team themselves!!

So farewell banter and innuendo based comment, LSE alumni such as John F Kennedy and Ed Miliband can rest easy knowing  that the LSE student union, in the capable  hands of Nona Buckley-Irvine, will make sure these sort of sexist escapades become a thing of the past.

Its interesting thought that the LSE student union newspaper which reported the progress of the issue is called 'Beaver Online'.  Maybe she should be looking to rename that!

Phish out of water

We remain a Great Britain. The Scots have had their vote and elected to say no to the opportunity to become an independent Country. If I had been a Scot I would have chosen the same road. Time and again specific questions were asked of Alex Salmon(d), the first minister, and time and again no concrete facts or data were forthcoming.

What would have happened to job opportunities and associated pensions, how would the NHS have been funded, what is the financial benefit of North Sea oil, what would be the impact of Trident moving South and, of course, what currency would be deployed and would currency rates  work for or against.

The only sensible route was to maintain the status quo and allow Alex and the SNP to negotiate from a position of strength.

All through the campaign I have had no time for Salmond, thinking that he was in this for his own gain and frankly he was saving sod the average Scot in the street. He lost, and look what has happened. he has resigned quicker than a paedophilific radio presenter. There is no I in team, but there is one in king, and by failing to stay in office and fight for his nation he has taken the high road and left the mess he has orchestrated for some other poor souls to sort out. Scotland may well feel they are better off without him.

With uncertainty surrounding the future, and some political posturing over the enhanced powers promise, the Tory party have been quick to seize the moral high ground as far as English law is concerned. This in effect stifles the Labour power base in Westminster. It may even sow doubt into the minds of staunch Labour supporters in the North of England as to whether their party is capable of protecting the interests of the working class Englander. Regularly they see more and more funding at a disproportionate level been passed out to the people of Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, and are getting unhappy.

We live in uncertain times as events in the Middle East indicate daily, but closer to home things are equally unsettled. The old adage 'Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answer to' has been broken by Salmond, the yes/no factions have now got to get back in bed together and what Scotland took as a given as far as devolution is concerned,  may now be less attractive than once it was.

Alexander the Great

So, welcome to the world Alexander. Our fifth grandchild popped out at about 11:15 yesterday weighing in at 9lbs. He is Tim and Maya's second child, and he is now responsible for keeping my strand of the Weathers name in the public domain.

It's an depressing world he is becoming part of, war ravages the Arab states, with Russia trying once more to flex its muscles in Ukraine. Suspicious packages are being detonated in UK airports, and the likelihood of Great Britain becoming smaller as Scotland votes for independence, is on the horizon. His introduction to the world did see a marked improvement in the England football team performance last night, and the cricketers are winning occasionally, but his opportunity to use jumpers as goalposts and chalk cricket wickets on neighbours wall's are unlikely to materialise.
Still, Alexander, you have a lot to look forward to and we will be helping wherever we can, along the way. Who knows, in 2030 all will be looking rosy once more.

It is interesting, though,  how the male strand has been diluted overour last three generations. My father was one of three boys and a girl. Between them the three boys fathered two boys and a girl. My cousin Mike and I then fathered a boy (Tim) and three girls.
Strangely, Mike's sister Jennifer produced two boys, neither of whom has any kids yet. Mike's three  have so far produced four girls.

So that means Alexander has a sister and four girl cousins on my side and two girls and a boy cousin on Maxine's side. Tim has three girl cousins.

My five-a-side football team looks to be shaping up to have Nell in goal, Sofia and Ava in defence and Archie and Alexander up front. Our sixth is due in March so I might have to alter the line-up at some stage, but having a sub is always useful.