Hope, Fail, Sigh, Repeat

Another season is underway. The promise of it was exhilarating. The reality is somewhat less enthralling. I’ve been an American Football fan since the 1980’s. For all of that time I’ve been a San Francisco 49ers fan. For the first fifteen years it was wonderful. Countless division titles, five Superbowl championships, and other NFC title games.

Then it started to drop off, and by the time the noughties were fully in swing the number of wins per season was nearer to nought than they were to ten. We had three good seasons in the early tens, winning a couple of division titles and missing out on a sixth Superbowl win by less than five yards. Then the wheels fell off again. But for the Cleveland Browns we would have been the worst team in the NFL.

After a disastrous start to last season we ended up winning six of the last seven games of the season. A reasonable draft and free agency left us hopeful of a good season. More wins than losses for a change, and a possible playoff berth.

Five games in and that all looks like a distant memory. If we didn’t laugh about the way we were playing we would cry. And they would be bitter tears. A loss against the Vikings could be expected; they reached the NFC Championship game last season and had strengthened. We beat the Lions, despite our best efforts to contrive a defeat from the jaws of victory. Then came game three, and whilst chasing the game came disaster. Our QB went down with an injury on a play he shouldn’t have made. It turned out to be a season ending ACL injury and you could feel the deflation.

Game four saw us throw away chances to beat a quite poor Chargers outfit, and yet we could still find ways to go downhill from there. We were playing the winless Cardinals last night. And as only we can manage, after a good touchdown drive to start the game things went downhill from there. We missed the extra point. We gave the freedom of the field to a wide receiver who was in a different post code to the cover. Fumbles, an interception, an injury to our primary running back, dumb ass penalties. It was all here.

We got a touchdown to give us hope, only for us to attempt the worse ever two point conversion try I’ve ever seen. Then we let the Cards score straight away again and it was all over. Robbie Gould missed a field goal, his first miss in 39 attempts going back to Halloween last year. We got another touchdown, but another crap attempt at a two point conversion meant we needed two onside kick recoveries and scores in just over a minute. No one will be surprised to learn that didn’t happen.

We’ve seen this all before. There are ongoing themes, a lot of which can be throwing fingers in the direction of the coaching staff. Silly penalties at stupid times – yep seen that a lot recently. Fumbles, more of them than at a drunken Christmas party, which with interceptions means we rack up more turnovers than an episode of the Bake-Off. A complete inability to tackle, especially in the open field, we’ve had less effective tackles than there are on show at a eunuchs’ convention. And finally a secondary who appear to be wearing signs that say “throw the ball over here for a completely open receiver.”

The pre-season optimism has gone. All that is left is gallows humour and a sense of we’ve been here before.

I still watch, because that’s what fans do. It may be out of morbid curiosity, I may not like what I see. I may swear a lot. I may make flippant, sarcastic, or cynical remarks and poke fun at my team. It’s what I do to stop going mental. It prevents the inevitable eye rolling from continuing out of my head, down my body and off down the street.

I took five minutes away from the game last night to rewrite Fatboy Slim’s “Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat” to become “Run, Sack, Punt, Repeat”, along with new words for all of the song. Then I rewrote part of it again when I came back to find that Brieda had gone off injured.

As I look at the wreckage of another season, with seemingly little hope for improvement on the horizon I may rewrite it again, but the punchline will be different.

HOPE, FAIL, SIGH, REPEAT.

 

But for the time being, here’s what I originally rewrote last night

So there was this kicker who was like kicking off
He didn’t know what he was doing
But he kicked far man
Like, really far man
Ball in the air
And then this returner ran in
You know, not just ran
Like a long run
Like a really, like you know
Dislike
You know what happens next
Like run and score
They were tackling
We weren’t tackling
They were scoring
And I don’t know whether anyone else noticed it
But all that was happening was
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Suddenly I think we’re going to score
Suddenly I think we’re going to win
But we don’t
I’m just dreaming
I’m just dreaming
I’m just dreaming
I’m just sleeping
I’m just hoping
I’m just praying
And then
Another
Injury
God damn
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat
Run, sack, punt, repeat

Sporclelitis

How many of you have heard of Sporcle?

 

Of those of you who haven’t heard of it, how many of you are into quizzes? Any sort of quiz about anything you can imagine? If you are, then what the hell are you still doing here reading this rubbish? Get yourself over to the Sporcle website and start clicking and typing and answering away to your heart’s content. Even have a go at creating your own quiz for everyone else to have a go at.

 

I was introduced to Sporcle back in the day when I actually spoke to people at work. I was sat on a bank of desks with a couple of newly recruited and under-employed recruitment agents who were into football quizzes. Now I love a good quiz, I’ve been involved in enough of them over the years, taking part in them or setting them, but I hadn’t heard of Sporcle before.

 

They showed me the app and I tried a couple of games on it, but when I got home to the flat where I was living by myself at that time, I found the website. And that was when the obsession started. Hundreds of thousands of quizzes of different types, and different time limits on them, anything from fifteen seconds up to twenty minutes allowed per quiz. And anything from a single answer being required up to multiple hundreds.

 

They had leader boards, badges to collect, and challenges to be made. I was in wonderland. For the first six months I was like a junkie, playing for hours on end, making it to number one on most quizzes played in the last week and month for a while. It was ludicrous, playing hundreds of quizzes every day, staying up until stupid o’clock every night.

 

Things have calmed down since then, but I’ve been picking it back up a bit recently. With three new badges released every week I’d let a backlog develop. Nearly two hundred that needed completing had stacked up. So I’ve been whittling them down again. There are only sixty left now.

 

There are some I won’t get, over thirty relate to the creation of quizzes, something which I haven’t really embraced yet. Then there are the two that rely on typing speed, I’m never going to finish them, I can’t get to anywhere near the fifty words in a minute that are needed to complete the quizzes that make up those two badges.

 

It leaves only twenty-six, whoops, and twenty-nine as there are the three new ones today. As they are mainly cumulative volume badges these will get chipped away at over the next couple of months.

 

Gone are the days where I would do three to four hundred quizzes, twenty to thirty is more manageable now, but it’s still a drain on time. When I get back up to date I’ll do the new ones each week to keep my hand in.

 

However if you are trying to get hold of me and there isn’t an answer it is likely that I’m in the middle of a quiz and I’ll get back to you when the time has run out. Unless I click on the next quiz that is, so it might be tomorrow, or next week.

Dying To Go

I had forgotten all about the fact the trip had been booked. It was going to be a dead good day. I mean, people have been dying to go here for nearly two hundred years now. I’ll stop with the puns now as they are something I am normally dead against. Oops did it again.

 

We were off to Highgate Cemetery. We had booked a guided tour of the West Cemetery, which then gives access to the East Cemetery. Highgate Cemetery is probably the most famous Cemetery in the country. It was one of the so-called “Magnificent Seven” garden cemeteries laid out around London to cope with the ever burgeoning population in Victorian times. Its location set on Highgate Hill gave it views over the expanding city of London, and made it a more attractive location than the other six, due to the mentality of puritan Anglican Victorians. Being on a hill, it was going to be closer to heaven.

 

Getting there on a Bank Holiday Monday would normally be a nightmare. The number of rail engineering works, or motorway roadworks suggested that trying to go anywhere over this particular weekend would be a nightmare. Yet it wasn’t. The trains were running normally, on time, and with lots of room on them. The train left Crawley on time, and arrived at Victoria a couple of minutes before the advertised time. From there it was a case of getting on a bus that would take us all the way over to Archway.

 

We could have got the tube. From Victoria we could have got the Victoria line and changed over to the Northern Line. We could have got trains into London Bridge or St Pancras International and got the Northern Line up to Archway. Now, I love the tube, and everything about it. It is one of my obsessional areas of interest. And for years I wouldn’t have considered any other way of getting across London. It is a lot quicker than the Bus, and on an overcast Bank Holiday Monday, it wasn’t going to be crowded.

 

However, we weren’t in a massive rush, so the hour for the bus journey to get from Victoria to archway was fine with us. You get to see so much more of London that way. The journey took us past the back wall of Buckingham Palace, around Hyde Park Corner and up Park Lane, round Marble Arch and then along Oxford Street. At the level above the shop facades there is so much interesting architecture to be seen. You notice things you would never see if you were trying to battle your way through throngs of shoppers on a Saturday Afternoon.

 

Turning on to Tottenham Court Road there is a wonderful array of buildings covering three hundred years of different architecture. Onto Euston Road and past the three mainline stations sending passengers to the north, before turning after King’s Cross into a more industrial area. The landscape there is changing, new builds are springing up, it looks so much cleaner than it used to, although it is almost to the point of it being sterile now. Robbed of its character, though that could be considered an improvement from its characters robbing you.

 

On through the outskirts of Camden. Part of it that hasn’t been gentrified. Grubby looking terraced houses sit between run down shops and factory units. As the bus moves on to Tufnell Park, the terraces become larger, and look better kept. They now have three stories from street level, and lots have basements as well. Large bay windowed Victorian and Edwardian buildings stand either side of the road, most of them now subdivided into flats, with numerous doorbells or buzzers adorning the porch to the front door.

 

Back on to the main road and it is all shops at ground floor level again. Takeaways with food from every nationality you could think of beckon customers in with colourful signage and neon lighting. Every so often a more modern complex of flats appears. Sixties and seventies concrete utopias rise six or seven stories high. Then they give way to the shops again, and we are at Archway. Or nearly, the stop before we get there, they announce they are stopping here to change bus drivers – my curse applies to London buses as well it would seem.

 

We get off and cut through a seventies concrete estate, one which they’ve carved out around a green space with ample mature trees to soften the view. We walk past the Whittington Hospital, one of a number of establishments to bear the name in this area. Not an area I would have connected to the storied Lord Mayor of bygone years. Then through Waterlow Park to come out opposite the entrance to the West cemetery, and with time to spare.

The tour guide was a wonderfully self-depreciating northern, and as he described himself, “flaming queen”. The seventy minute tour took nearer to two hours, but the time flew by. Wonderfully told stories at a multitude of graves, weaving together life histories of a diverse selection of former London residents, from the very rich, and the very famous, to the very normal, and the downright unfortunate.

 

Even staying to the main paths, there is so much to see, that even the extended time of the tour only really scratches the surface. A simple small headstone can sit next to a large family plot with angels, urns and crosses on. The Egyptian Parade House sixteen mausoleums,

and leads to the Lebanon Circle of mausoleums, surrounding the single Cedar tree that gives it its name.

All the time we are walking up hill to the top of the cemetery, where the terraced catacombs are, with their lead lined coffins stacked floor to ceiling. Above it stands the back of St Michael’s church, built after the cemetery was consecrated and although it overlooks the cemetery, it is not linked in any way.

 

In front of the catacombs stands the largest mausoleum of them all, and the largest personal monument anywhere in London. It is huge, and has Julius Beer, his wife and daughter in there. Built to house his daughter, it was placed at the top of the hill so that he could see it from his office in the centre of London.

There is something to look at in every direction, and one grave was pointed out to us by the guide, although with the disclaimer that they weren’t allow to point the grave out and that we definitely shouldn’t take photographs of the very famous recently deceased singer’s grave that was shared with their mother.

 

Coming out of the west, we crossed the road and into the east cemetery. There isn’t the same level of slope here, and the tree cover isn’t as intense. The most famous grave in either of the cemeteries is here, that of Karl Marx,

though it was moved from its original location and given a more prominent place and a much more prominent monument. It isn’t as grand as the west, but there are a lot of interesting people buried here. You can wander around here in your own time, and try and find the final resting places of those marked on the map you are given. Some you can’t help but see, but others you could easily walk past without noticing.

 

You could easily miss Douglas Adams’ headstone, only the pot of pens that fans leave mark out the writer of Hitch Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy from other similar ones around it.

Yet it would be difficult to miss Malcolm McLaren’s head and MM logo,

or pop artist Patrick Caulfield’s self designed and made DEAD headstone. It is to die for.

Yes, that brings me back to bad puns. It was a good day out, definitely worth the money, and worth going whilst you are still in the land of the living.

 

 

 

 

Now That’s What I Call A Lot Of Music

The phenomenon that is Now That’s What I Call Music has now reached number 100.

 

When EMI and Virgin joined forces in December 1983 to release the first in the very long and very successful compilation series, Now That’s What I Call Music, it is unlikely that they realised just what an impact it would have on the music industry as a whole, and specifically to the compilation market.

 

Prior to this the compilation market was basically run by two labels K-Tel and Telstar, who would release any number of sub-standard albums every year claiming to have the biggest acts and biggest hits on them. In reality, the original artist’s own labels were reluctant to license the songs to these compilations, and a lot was done under the proviso that they could have some big names, but they had to take tracks from less well known and less successful artists as filler to get the deal done. Therefore, compilation albums were often very hit and miss. So, what should have been the greatest hits of the year, had totally random tracks on. The Waders with a rock cover of “The Birdie Song” called “The Qwaka Song” on Chart Hits 81, and the never heard of before or since Debbie Aimee “No Answers” on Superchart 83.

 

Then there were the other labels trying to make compilations (mainly Ronco and Pickwick) who couldn’t get any licensed tracks, so went out and got session singers and musicians and re-recorded the songs. The only exception to this was the very successful series of Motown compilations, however they had no licensing difficulties as all the artists were signed to Motown anyway.

 

What the Now series did was to bring the compilations to the major labels, who could get the licensing far more easily and without the trade off in quality. Now 1 was a runaway success spending 6 weeks at number one, and they followed it up with 2 and 3 at Easter and in August the following year, both of which also hit number 1 and stayed there for several weeks.

 

This success drew the attention of other major labels and by the time it came to the 1984 Christmas market CBS (now Sony) and WEA (Warner) had joined forces and came out with the Hits series and prevented the latest release Now 4 from hitting number 1, the only Now album not to hit the top spot. By the summer of the following year Chrysalis, MCA and Polygram (now Universal) had their own series Out Now. By Christmas 1986 there were compilation crazy buyers everywhere. Now had been joined by Polygram, Chrysalis was on board as well after being taken over by EMI, who were also only months away from merging with Virgin. RCA (now BMG) has joined the Hits camp, and for the next 15 years the lines were drawn. EMI/Virgin/Universal against Sony/Warner/BMG with the Now series coming out an easy winner.

 

Elsewhere the success of Now had led to labels being willing to license tracks to compilations, and compilation series popped up all over the place, to the extent that by the start of 1989, a separate Compilation chart was started as the artists weren’t getting a look in on the album charts. So, when you see the vast selection of compilations available, it’s the Now series you have to thank, or if you think that compilations are a plague then it’s the Now series you can blame. Now days the battle lines have been erased somewhat and there is some crossover between the labels.

 

Apart from 1985 – 1987, and 1990 – 1991 there have been three Now chart releases every year. In addition to the 100 Now albums, they have also released Christmas albums, summer albums, Now Dance albums, and the Now Year series with a “best of Now” for each year since 1983-2000. With the record company landscape changing drastically over the years, the series is now run by Universal and Sony. Since that pairing came together, the amount of side line “Now That’s What I Call…” albums have spiralled almost out of control. At least one new one comes out each month the standard Now release comes out.

 

We have seen such titles as Now That’s What I Call Rock, Now That’s What I Call Reggae, Now That’s What I Call Mum, Now That’s What I Call Dad, Now That’s What I Call Housework, Now That’s What I Call Workout, Now That’s What I Call The Attending The Opening Of An Envelope, Now That’s What I Call Scraping The Bottom Of The Barrel, and more. (Some of those titles may not be strictly accurate).

 

The next planned release is going to be a compilation of the numbered Now compilations, where there will be 100 tracks, with one off each of the 100 Now albums. They did a slight fudge of this on Now 100, with the second disc supposedly giving a representation of the series over the years, but the choices were very hit and miss, with five and six years gaps between tracks and then two off the same Now album a couple of times.

 

Therefore, I’m going to get my picks in for the 100 from 100 first. I’ve picked a single track off each of the 100 Now albums. In doing so, I’ve avoided having more than one track by any artist. Additionally, I’ve avoided easy pickings like reissues. Finally, I’ve tried to think back to the time when each of the albums came out and pick the track that I would play repeatedly at that time, rather than the track I might choose now.

 

On the law of averages, with the Now albums starting with having 30 tracks, and having a maximum of 46 tracks, at least two of my picks should make it onto the officially picked 100 from 100 album, but, I’m not going to hold my breath if I match any of them. My picks are below.

 

Now 1 – Rocksteady Crew – (Hey You) The Rocksteady Crew

Now 2 – Thomas Dolby – Hyperactive

Now 3 – Special A.K.A – Nelson Mandela

Now 4 – The Kane Gang – Respect Yourself

Now 5 – The Style Council – Walls Come Tumbling Down!

Now 6 – Lloyd Cole & The Commotions – Lost Weekend

Now 7 – The Real Roxanne – Bang Zoom (Let’s Go-Go)

Now 8 – Cameo – Word Up

Now 9 – Robbie Nevil – C’est La Vie

Now 10 – Fat Boys – Wipeout

Now 11 – Wet Wet Wet – Angel Eyes

Now 12 – Salt ‘n’ Pepa – Push It

Now 13 – Yello – The Race

Now 14 – Then Jerico – Big Area

Now 15 – Double Trouble & The Rebel MC – Just Keep Rockin’

Now 16 – Erasure – Drama!

Now 17 – Happy Mondays – Step On

Now 18 – Bass-o-matic – Fascinating Rhythm

Now 19 – 808 State – In Yer Face

Now 20 – Marc Cohn – Walking In Memphis

Now 21 – KLF – Justified And Ancient

Now 22 – SL2 – On A Ragga Trip

Now 23 – Sophie B Hawkins – Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover

Now 24 – Snow – Informer

Now 25 – New Order – Regret

Now 26 – The Goodmen – Give It Up

Now 27 – Tori Amos – Cornflake Girl

Now 28 – The Grid – Swamp Thing

Now 29 – Oasis – Cigarettes and Alcohol

Now 30 – Freak Power – Turn On, Tune In, Cop Out

Now 31 – Edwyn Collins – A Girl Like You

Now 32 – Paul Weller – Broken Stones

Now 33 – Technohead – I Wanna Be A Hippy

Now 34 – OMC – How Bizarre

Now 35 – Ocean Colour Scene – The Riverboat Song

Now 36 – No Doubt – Don’t Speak

Now 37 – Fun Lovin’ Criminals – Scooby Snacks

Now 38 – The Verve – The Drugs Don’t Work

Now 39 – Cornershop – Brimful Of Asha

Now 40 – Fat Les – Vin-Da-Loo

Now 41 – Stardust – Music Sounds Better With You

Now 42 – The All Seeing I feat Tony Christie – Walk Like A Panther

Now 43 – Chemical Brothers – Hey Boy Hey Girl

Now 44 – Bran Van 3000 – Drinking In LA

Now 45 – Blink 182 – All The Small Things

Now 46 – Bloodhound Gang – The Bad Touch

Now 47 – Zombie Nation – Kernkraft 400

Now 48 – Feeder – Buck Rogers

Now 49 – Outkast – Ms Jackson

Now 50 – Alien Ant Farm – Smooth Criminal

Now 51 – Puretone – Addicted To Bass

Now 52 – Doves – Pounding

Now 53 – Bowling For Soup – Girl All The Bad Guys Want

Now 54 – Junior Senior – Move Your Feet

Now 55 – 50 Cent – In Da Club

Now 56 – Justin Timberlake – Rock Your Body

Now 57 – Franz Ferdinand – Take Me Out

Now 58 – Razorlight – Golden Touch

Now 59 – Deep Dish – Flashdance

Now 60 – Uniting Nations – Out Of Touch

Now 61 – Bodyrockers – I Like The Way

Now 62 – Gorillaz – Dare

Now 63 – Hi Tack – Say Say Say

Now 64 – Pink – Who Knew

Now 65 – Fedde Le Grand – Put Your Hands Up For Detroit

Now 66 – Fall Out Boy – This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race

Now 67 – Reverend & The Makers – Heavyweight Champion Of The World

Now 68 – Mark Ronson feat Amy Winehouse – Valerie

Now 69 – Timbaland feat OneRepublic – Apologize

Now 70 – Pendulum – Propane Nightmares

Now 71 – Madcon  – Beggin’

Now 72 – Metro Station – Shake it

Now 73 – 3OH!3 – Don’t Trust Me

Now 74 – Ian Carey Project  – Get Shaky

Now 75 – Alicia Keys – Empire State Of Mind (Part II)

Now 76 – Plan B – She Said

Now 77 – B.o.B. feat Hayley Williams – Airplanes

Now 78 – Chase & Status feat Liam Bailey – Blind faith

Now 79 – LMFAO feat Lauren Bennett & GoonRock – Party Rock Anthem

Now 80 – Maroon 5 feat Christina Aguilera – Moves like Jagger

Now 81 – Florence + The Machine – Shake It Out

Now 82 – fun. Feat. Janelle Monáe – We Are Young

Now 83 – Ne-Yo – Let Me Love You (Until You Learn To Love Yourself)

Now 84 – Bastille – Pompeii

Now 85 – Daft Punk feat. Pharrell Williams – Get Lucky

Now 86 – Fatboy Slim & Riva Starr Feat. Beardyman – Eat Sleep Rave Repeat

Now 87 – Paloma Faith – Can’t Rely On You

Now 88 – Mr. Probz – Waves

Now 89 – Ten Walls – Walking With Elephants

Now 90 – Labrinth – Jealous

Now 91 – John Newman – Come And Get It

Now 92 – The Weeknd – Can’t Feel My Face

Now 93 – Alessia Cara – Here

Now 94 – Viola Beach – Boys That Sing

Now 95 – Offaiah – Trouble

Now 96 – Rag’N’Bone Man – Human

Now 97 – Rudimental – Sun Comes Up

Now 98 – Katy Perry Feat. Nicki Minaj – Swish Swish

Now 99 – Portugal. The Man – Feel It Still

Now 100 – Ariana Grande – No Tears Left To Cry

 

Bolney

Bolney. How many times have I seen that name? Going up and down the A23, or coming across the A272, there is always that little white patch on the large green background of the road sign, with the letters spelling out Bolney Village in black on it.

 

It is more times than I can count really. In the twelve years I’ve lived in Crawley, I’ve been past those signs and have never been tempted to turn off and have a look and actually venture in to Bolney itself.

 

Well, last Thursday night I did. I was going out for a meal with my team at work for Anju’s leaving do. It was at one of the two pubs in Bolney – The Eight Bells. A wonderful traditional old village pub; with wooden beams, split levels and various rooms. The food was good and it was a good meal out with the team.

However for me, the most interesting part of the evening was when all my work colleagues had gone and I was left alone to wait for my lift home.

 

Stepping out of the front door of the pub I found myself going back in time (as long as I ignored the cars that was.) Opposite the pub was a short row of very old buildings from the middle ages. One of which had a plaque on the door telling passers-by of its AA four-star recommendation. It looked a great place to stay with its old door and little windows.

On the same side of the road as the pub was another row of similarly aged houses.

The view from the middle of the road was one of a quintessentially English village.

As I walked along the road to get a better view of the buildings to take more photographs, I saw some steps leading up to this wooden porch.

Walking up to the porch and entering into it I could now see the village church of St Mary Magdalene, tucked away behind the gravestones the trees and buildings. With its low squat tower, you wouldn’t know it was here from the road, such a lovely little spot.

So next time you are passing along the A23 or A272 and you see that sign saying Bolney Village, if you have the time, take a little detour. Spend a few minutes walking around the village and imagine yourself stepping back through time. Take a little breather from the usual hectic life.

 

 

 

Whatever Happened To White Dog Poo?

It’s one of those questions that adults of a certain age ask.

 

Whatever happened to white dog poo?

 

When we were kids playing out in the streets, in the parks, by the streams, it was a common occurrence to see white dog poo. As we grew up this seemed to disappear. It only ever seems to be shades of brown now. Granted, since things changed and it became the proper thing to do for owners to bag up the poo and put it in the nearest poo bin, so there is hardly any dog poo lying around anyway.

 

So, I was out in the back garden this afternoon, I was hanging some washing out. Charlie uses the back garden as a toilet, and it’s cleared up on a when it gets round to it basis. Well, I was walking down to the bottom of the garden, washing basket in hand, carefully looking where I was treading trying to avoid any of Charlie’s little presents, when i saw it.

 

White dog poo.

 

And it suddenly dawned on me how it got there, and why it was around when we were kids but not now.

 

It was bleached. Lying in the sun for extended periods of time bleaches it, from the brown it comes out as to white. Sure enough as I looked around, poo in the sun was now beige or white, yet the stuff in the shade was still brown.

 

We don’t see white dog poo anymore because no one leaves it behind in the sun anymore, they pick it up and take it away when it’s still brown.

 

Mystery solved.

The Fleet On Foot

Another year, another pub crawl. This year’s theme was to follow the route of the River Fleet. Only going upstream like salmon, instead of following the flow of the water. The Fleet is the most famous of the now disappeared and hidden London Rivers that flow into the Thames. It has two sources, either side of Hampstead Heath, one in the Hampstead Ponds, and the other in the Highgate Ponds. They meet just north of Camden Town, and carry on down through King’s Cross, Clerkenwell, Farringdon and out into the Thames underneath Blackfriars Bridge. We were going to follow the left tributary up to Hampstead.

Even before the day kicked off there was disappointment. Macca and Allan messaged to say they couldn’t make it due to work commitments. Apart from myself, they were the only ever presents on my organised London or Crawley pub crawls going back to 2006.

There were seven participants on the train going up to London. A far cry from the one, two or three that normally make pub one. Yet even before the drinking had started I had managed to add to Thamestink’s lost property, leaving my wide brimmed straw hat in the overhead luggage rack instead of on my head. Liam, Simon, Shawn, Mike and Helen were pub crawl veterans by now, Craig was a newbie. Shawn had had a bet on with Helen about making pub one, something he had never managed. He was so intent on making it this time, that when faced with the massive queues at Three Bridges he had jumped the barrier to make the train. He ordered a ticket on his phone, but had to sneak out of the disabled barrier at Blackfriars.

Pub one was the Blackfriars. A beautiful building inside and out. It was a cooler day than the insane temperatures that London had been basking in all week, with a nice breeze that made sitting out worthwhile. We were early in pub one, in before midday. Tracy and Paul joined us at the starting time, managing to avoid all the hordes of cyclists taking part in ride London that day. Tom was a bit late, having walked past the pub on the wrong side of the road, only realising his mistake when he got to pub two, before returning. Another newbie. Nik made it to pub one before everyone left, but not in enough time for him to think he could neck a quick drink. It made eleven at the first pub, a new pub crawl record.

Whilst we were having a leisurely first pint, another pub crawl group came through, quickly drinking a half before heading off again. They were on the circle line pub crawl. The lunacy of twenty six pubs on the same day with a half in each, before walking to the next one. The six miles of the Fleet on Foot was enough for most.

Pub two was The Albion; little more than a hundred yards up the road, yet not even in the top three of shortest treks between pubs ever. We got in there to the sight of some random putting a shirt on. The same random then moaned at the bar man about all the people in the pub before leaving. Nowt as strange as folk. Another drop out message was received, this time from Erica and Adam, not quite managing to make the pub crawl for another year, there is always next time.

On leaving Craig suggested doing the Cheshire Cheese next. Obviously the concept of a planned route pub crawl is a bit difficult to understand. A two and a half mile detour isn’t going to cut it. We did try to do the Cheshire Cheese on the journey around England crawl two years ago, but it didn’t open on Saturdays then. Apparently it does now. But that doesn’t mean we’re going now.

A little bit longer to walk for pub three, passing under Holborn Viaduct, and on to Farringdon Station, and the Sir John Oldcastle. Which despite it being a Wetherspoon’s, it wasn’t the cheapest pub of the day. We were joined by Annie, a veteran, and the first food order of the day was broken out. Sir John Oldcastle is a very interesting figure. A former decorated army veteran and close friend of Henry V, he is the basis for Shakespeare’s character of Falstaff in Henry IV and The Merry Wives of Windsor, the name being changed to Falstaff in later printed versions. He was a Lollard (think pre-protestant protestant) and planned to overthrow his (former) friend Henry V to replace him with a commonwealth, and disposing of the abbeys and clergy. Nearly two hundred and fifty years later Cromwell succeeded with a similar plan.

Pub four was the Green, Clerkenwell (so named as being a well point from the Fleet). This used to overlook a natural bowl that the river flowed through and was the site of bear-baiting, cock-fighting and other such unsavoury “sports”. It is also near here that the murky waters brought to life in Dickens’ Oliver Twist, where Fagin had his lair, were said to have been. The poor bar man look a bit shell shocked as we flooded his nearly empty establishment with people. Vinay and Faye (veterans) joined, as did Faye’s husband Alan, and Dave (newbies). The view isn’t as pleasant now; you can see the high walls behind which the train lines into Farringdon run. Lines that saw the end of The Fleet having any above ground trace, as they were walled in to become a Victorian super sewer. But not before they burst out of their prison for one last time and flooded the yet to open Metropolitan line all the way back up to King’s Cross.

Pub five was Belgo. A dangerous choice for so early in the day. So many good drinks choices. So many percentage points in ABV. More food was broken out, and much menu gazing was done. Mainly by me to see just what the choices for beer could be if this had been pub twelve instead.

Pub six beckoned, hiding down a little alley and almost over the top of the train tracks that follow the route of the Fleet up to King’s Cross. Tom had left to head over to the O2 where he had tickets for the night’s boxing, but we were joined by Dayo (a newbie). Meat Liquor had been given a longer time slot than any of the other pubs, mainly because quite a few wanted to eat here, and more than half did. Everything on their menus is lush. It was a drag to have to move on.

The walk to pub seven was the longest of the day, though again not quite long enough to get into the top three of all time. Passing between King’s Cross and St. Pancras stations before going past the current “old” St. Pancras church, a splendid Victorian edifice on the site of the original 6th century place of worship. It is said on a quiet day; when there is no traffic passing, you can hear the fleet running past underground from drain covers outside the Prince Albert. It obviously wasn’t a quiet day, as I couldn’t hear a thing. Dave left during the long walk, and Faye and Alan didn’t even attempt it, but we were joined by Ellie (a veteran), who was the lucky person to finally select the winning pub crawl CD, from the nearly depleted stock to win a free drink in the next pub.

Pub eight had looked closed and abandoned when we did the recce for the event, but after finding it was open it was an ideal spot for the next pub, with Quinn’s being within sight of the site where the two tributaries meet. To be fair it wasn’t quite as bad as expected, but it had definitely seen better days, and the toilets were “challenging” to say the least. Liz (a veteran) joined whilst we were still there.

Pub nine wasn’t so much just a pub, but the bar attached to the Camden Town Brewery. We were joined by the last addition of the day – John another newbie. The sun was starting to get low and couldn’t get into the narrow yard outside the bar, and with the wind picking up; some people started feeling the cold, and were glad to be moving on.

Pub ten was named after the founder of the police force, Sir Robert Peel. The current force could probably pick up a few outstanding warrants by nipping in here from time to time. Annie had sloped off upon leaving the previous pub, but didn’t miss much. It was more of an Irish pub than Quinn’s and just as salubrious. Some of the attendees were attempting to play darts. It may be the case that Nik had never played before. One of his attempts was so high, wide and handsome; it nearly took to big screen TV out that was in the next bay of the pub. We wiped our feet on the way out and headed for the next pub.

The Stag was pub eleven, a dark imposing building, painted in matt black paint on Fleet Road. There was a bag search on the way in (something probably more appropriate at pub ten), and Simon had the age old issue of struggling to get let in because he looks ratted. Granted he does, but he does when sober. Dayo had sloped off between pubs. Most of the remaining party had found a large table inside the pub. It was only when we wondered where the other three had gone that we found the vast extent of the garden hidden away. It was huge, and although it was nearly dark, the coolness would have been preferable to the closeness inside the pub.

And then we were off on the last crawl of the drinking day to pub twelve. The Garden Gate. Chosen because of its vast garden, we were surprised when they started shepherding everyone inside or to the much smaller front garden. Well, more like a patio really. We had made it, fourteen people in the last pub. After more than five miles wandering north through London, we were as close to the source of the River Fleet as we were going to get  whilst sat drinking in a pub.

But the day wasn’t over; there was still the end of crawl food to be had. We had booked a table at Paradise. Which had been fun and games. Having originally requested a booking for half ten for ten people, it had taken them nearly a week to come back and confirm. Then they had rang me a couple of days before the pub crawl to ask if we could arrive a few minutes late to allow them to get some tables together. Then they rang me on the day saying could we get there at ten. We had agreed on a compromise of quarter past and I would get orders from everyone and ring them through before we got there. Having got all the orders (only for thirteen as John had eaten), I rang them through just after ten. We finished our drinks, with no shots in the last pub (shocking behaviour) and headed across the road. Then had to wait until half ten for them to get tables put together.

The food was good, once everyone remembered what the hell they had ordered that was, and with drinks was less than twenty quid a head, so good value as well.

Then it was home time, people headed for trains and taxis. Shaun went to Hampstead Heath station to finally pick up his travelcard for the day. Ellie, Liam, Mike and Craig had ordered an Uber to pick them up, and had left first. Once Shawn had his ticket, him, Helen, Simon, Vin and I flagged a black cab and headed for West Hampstead Thamestink station. Our black cab beat the Uber to the station, mainly because when the others arrived they had had to run from West Hampstead tube station as the Uber had dropped them off at the wrong place.

Vin, Simon and Shawn were talking big about going to a strip club. Then Shawn got off the train at Farringdon to go to Cocoa, only to wander down the outside of the carriage and get back on through the other set of doors. As if by magic Simon produced a half bottle of vodka, and subsequently finished everyone off by doing shots from the lid of the bottle.

Even so, everyone got home in one piece. Another great day. A record number of people – twenty – had made it out for at least three of the pubs, and there were double figures in every pub on the route for the first time ever as well.

Roll on next year, when the rumour is that Liam has offered to arrange a Brighton pub crawl. You never know, miracles may happen.

Back to mid table obscurity

It’s not been a bad few seasons as a Spurs fan. Not compared with the – on the whole – mediocracy that has been the case for nigh on forty years. It’s what, as a realistic supporter I’ve come to expect. Three top three finishes is more than they’ve had in the last forty years put together.

 

But I’m even more worried as this season approaches than I was last year. Spurs far exceeded expectations last season. I though playing at Wembley would be a millstone around their necks, that they would finish seventh, go out of all the cups in the first game played, and go out of the Champions’ League at the group stage, even before the draw was made. Finishing third was a surprise, getting out of the group stage was a bonus, and another losing FA Cup semi-final was more than expected. The only one I got right was the exit in the Carabao Cup in the first game vs West Ham, throwing away a two goal lead to lose 3-2. Wembley wasn’t as bad as it could have been, we lost the same amount of games there as we did in our proper designated away games.

 

However I see no reason for optimism for the forthcoming season. There are five reasons for this.

  1. The World Cup. Nine of what would be our starting eleven started World Cup games last weekend. There is no way that they will be ready to play at the start of the season, mentally or physically. A three week holiday before a single week of pre-season isn’t enough, especially for players who were looking jaded before lengthy World Cup runs.
  2. No transfers in. Unless they have been so far under the radar that no news agency has reported them. All I’ve seen are more lengthy contract extensions. Good for keeping important players at the club, but with all other clubs buying players, Spurs needed to have been buying players already this summer. Leaving it until the last minute of the English transfer window is madness. Which is linked to…
  3. Players leaving. Two of the first team seem destined to leave no matter what. There are no replacements, and with the transfer window for the rest of Europe not closing until well after the English one does, there is plenty of time for those payers to be picked off at will, with no chance to get replacements in as the window is closed for Spurs to get replacements.
  4. A New Stadium. Yes, it’s still called White Hart Lane, but it an entirely new build. Due to gross incompetence, we will also be playing out first home game of the season at Wembley, before eventually having a proper home game in the middle of September. Regardless of the team playing, it takes time to bed down in a new stadium. It doesn’t feel properly like home for a couple of years, and no one can be sure what the atmosphere would be like. Arsenal struggled to bed in themselves, but they had the advantage that their players had been winning trophies before they moved.
  5. Mentality. Spurs can’t get over that hump. It’s so long since they’ve won a trophy, it’s like an invisible wall in front of them. There is no doubting that the manager and the team have improved leaps and bounds in the last five years, but they’ve still won nothing, and when the pressure comes down, they always look lost. I don’t think Mauricio Pochettino can get them over that hump. Another semi-final loss, five minutes of madness against Juventus, things that could have been dealt with if there was a proven winning manager in charge. But there isn’t. Much as I may dislike him, Jose Mourhino would have won something with this Spurs squad.

 

So where do I think this leaves Spurs for the coming season? Struggling to finish sixth, and probably a distance behind the top five. The rest of last year’s top six have strengthened, other sides in the Premier League have spent money and won’t have European action to distract them. Unless there is some drastic action in the next couple of weeks, Spurs just won’t have a squad capable of playing in Europe and the Premier League. They will probably sacrifice the Carabao Cup and go out in the first game. If they are struggling by the new year, the FA Cup will go out of the window, and when they drop down to the Europa League after finishing third in their Champions’ League group, there won’t be much effort made to get through in that competition either. A run of games at the end of the season to get some points will see us scrape sixth, and then the exodus starts big time. Back to years of struggling, bouncing between sixth and twelfth.

 

And I’ll still be supporting, expecting the worse, but hoping, just for a change, that everything goes right.

Motorway Madness

It appears that every time we have to travel by car, those travelling along the motorway in the same direction as us have no idea of how to drive on a motorway. At all! In reality everyone should be driving along the inside lane unless they are overtaking, and once the overtaking manoeuvre has been completed, move back to the inside lane. But no one does, they all tootle along in whichever lane they find themselves in. Doing 60mph in the second, third, or outside lanes, only to aggressively swerve into the inside lane if someone is driving at the speed limit and looking like they might undertake. They don’t realise that if they were driving where they were supposed to be – the inside lane – then no one would need to consider undertaking.

 

On our most recent trip, there were a lot of hold ups. One of those times when all lanes should be used, and when you should stick to the lane you are in. It’s at this point in time everyone decides to do lane hopping, which causes more braking and longer queues. Queues, which on the whole, only appear to have been caused by the not so smart motorway signs. They introduce variable speed limits at random points whenever they feel like it. Rolling along on a clear motorway at 70mph? We can’t have that, let’s put some 50mph signs up and cause a queue as everyone suddenly slams their brakes on. Then the signs change back and in seconds it’s a clear motorway again. There is no junction anywhere nearby, and no sign of an accident. In fact the closest thing to an accident is the point where everybody slams on.

 

Whilst in these queues, there are often sections which are clearly marked as being a split in the road. Sometimes these are much more heavily painted lines, sometimes there are chevrons. Invariably, these are on the inside of the motorway, to hive off to the left. Which means the actual motorway inside lane can be one or two lanes over from the left. They are not a short cut through congestion. Six times we were cut up by cars veering over the demarcation line from our left – including large areas of chevrons – one of which would have splintered a matchstick if there had been one between us. None of these bell ends bothered to indicate. Now the other common factor all of these drivers had was they were all driving high-end German cars.

 

Which leads to the ultimate driving question. Do you have to be a cunt of a driver before you go out and buy a high end German car? Or, when you buy a high end German car, do you get some special lessons on how to drive like an utter cunt?

 

Speaking of high end German cars, I do feel a deal of sympathy for the poor bastards that work in the BMW, Audi or Mercedes factories, whose job it is to install the indicator systems. How demoralising must it be to do that job? To spend all that time putting these components on the cars, knowing full well that the cunt that buys the car will never use them.

World Cup Willies

The World Cup is over. It has not been as I expected it to be. I drew England in the work sweepstake. I moaned like fuck when I did so about a waste of money. There were certainly no high expectations. England had been talked down a lot. The last sixteen and then home beckoned. But they did better than I had thought they would. Getting through the group stage was easier than it had been for a while. The last sixteen game was tense. The last minute equaliser by Colombia had the hallmarks of a typical England performance – promise and then disappointment. Going to penalties my heart sank, we’d been here before, more times than I care to remember. But England won the penalty shoot-out, a first for a world cup tournament. Then they got to the semi-finals after a victory over Sweden.

 

And then came the avalanche of unhelpful, unrealistic, and unwarranted media hype. Getting carried away as usual. It was only Croatia. A game I expected us to lose, but I was definitely in the minority. I’d backed Croatia to win the World Cup before a ball was kicked in anger. They are technically superb, and the team and their fans seemed united more now than at any time in the previous ten years. They should have won the 2016 Euros, but fighting and flares from their fans during a group game put them off their stride. They threw away a two goal lead in the last ten minutes of the match and were never the same again in the tournament, losing to the eventual winners Portugal in a dull game that went to extra time.

 

England took the lead in the semi-final. A great free kick from Trippier after five minutes. Only eighty-five minutes to survive then. First half chances were squandered, and sure enough Croatia equalised in the second half, and then got a winner in extra time. England were out and the torrent of negativity started. The game had only just finished when the denigration started. They hadn’t played any good sides. Too one dimensional, No plan b, no creative midfielder. Too cocky.

 

The last one is blatantly a lie; I can’t remember any other England squad being so low key about their chances before a tournament. Good sides is debateable. We have previously lost and drawn games to the teams we played, or teams supposedly at a similar level. Before the tournament started a lot of people were saying we would lose these games, and then when England wins, the same people say we should beat those sides. Bleating on that they are below England in the FIFA rankings. Rankings that are so inept, that even FIFA recognise they are a load of shite and are about to change the whole way they are calculated.

 

As for the style of play? Yes a lot of that is true. It was true before England played a game, yet the level of vitriol after the fact is just stupendous. The squad and the style of play was a reason why England weren’t expected to get past the last sixteen (or even out of the group stage according to a lot of keyboard warriors), and yet after reaching a semi-final, it’s described as a disgrace England didn’t reach the final. Get real people. If someone had told me at the start of the tournament that England would reach the semi-finals and go out after extra time, after previously won a penalty shoot-out, and have the golden boot winner, I would have laughed them out of the room, whilst snatching their hand off at the same time.

 

Speaking of the golden boot, the slagging off of Harry Kane is beyond a joke. There was a problem. It was he wants to play every game there is, yet no one seems to sit him down and say “no, you shouldn’t play, you need a rest, and it is for your own good.” He wasn’t as sharp in games at the World Cup as he had been in January / February. Coming back from injury too soon in April caused that. Yet despite that he still scored six goals. Granted one was a complete fluke, and three were penalties. Everyone is claiming he shouldn’t have won the golden boot, it is tarnished. However if penalties are so easy, how did Ronaldo, Messi and Modric miss them during this World Cup? In fact without Kane’s goals, a possible defeat to Tunisia and then out of the group stage. A loss to Colombia in normal time. And for all his lack of sharpness in front of goal, his all round play is overlooked. The ability to hold the ball up, link up play and his passing range are ignored.

 

The other sadly predictable outcome of England going out in the semi-finals was it gave the fans of the big three horrible red teams the chance to slag Tottenham off as usual. The Arsenal banter page had a ‘Keep Calm and Blame Tottenham’ meme up on their Facebook page as the final whistle blew. And along with the Liverpool and Manchester United fans, they took to the message boards in their droves to blame everything bad about England on Tottenham (whilst also saying Belgium had the same problem as well). For a change though the Chelsea fans took a step back from that one.

The final of France vs Croatia was a surprise to most. The talent France had left at home suggested they should have been tournament favourites from the outset. They won, ruining my money winning chances in doing so, and in the end it was comfortable. They were helped by some strange refereeing decisions for their first two goals. But in the end, they had the tactics and the quality to overcome whatever was put in front of them. Something England could well do with learning from.

 

VAR was used for the first time at a World Cup. On the whole it was alright, but there isn’t enough clarity on when it is used, and it can take too long. In one game play was called back for a penalty, after the opposing side had gone down the pitch and had a shot on target at the other end. It only covers four specific situations; other situations are still on the referee only. Watching the relatively few games I did see, the inconsistency in the refereeing was frustrating. Even within the same game at times. Some of the officiating teams aren’t up to it. What does it matter if there are more than one officiating team from a country? It should be the best sets of officials regardless of where they are from.

 

The other thing was the lack of bookings for simulation. Only one throughout the whole tournament. A tournament that had the most extras from Platoon that any tournament had ever had. It is disappointing. There is supposed to be a crackdown on simulation, but it just isn’t happening, and some of the best players in the world are the worst for it. If it isn’t tackled properly it’s going to get worse. Even a blatant clumsy dive like Harry’s Maguire’s goes without punishment.

 

For a variety of reasons I saw a lot less games in this World Cup than I had at any since the eighties, only catching probably one in three up to the semi-finals. There were a lot of surprises, big names going out at every stage. Despite the media hyped potential issues there would be in Russia, there was a lack of trouble, and apart from the final trophy presentation, glorious weather. On the whole I think it was a good world cup.

 

There were downsides. British media getting carried away as usual. They never learn. English fans getting carried away with a quarter-final win, wrecking cars and invading an Ikea to jump on furniture. Many were quick to (rightly) criticize this, especially non-English fans. Yet after riots, looting, deaths and more in Paris and other parts of France as they celebrated winning the World Cup, there isn’t a single word of condemnation uttered by those fucking hypocrites.

 

Apparently it’s just part of the game when other countries win.