As I sit here having returned from the chaos of a trip to Waitrose Dorking, which was full of hungover shoppers and car park ragers who seemed to have been tipped off that the zombie apocalypse is imminent, no doubt attracted by the odour of recycling bins overflowing with bin bags stretched to their polyethylene limits, stuffed with turkey carcasses and a mound of mince pies past their use by date, it is a time of quiet reflection. Before the New Year celebrations this evening.
There is already a change in the air – C has gone on a cleaning spree muttering “out with the old…..” and I am trying not to stay in one place for too long lest I suffer the same fate as the contents of our fridge.
Our TVs are filled with adverts for Weight Watchers, family holidays (just what you need after a couple of days/weeks of forced confinement with your “nearest and dearest”), Sky subscriptions and imminent war with Russia.
But, 2016 has not yet thrown its last die…..except in Australasia. But what a year 2016 has been.
At a personal level it has been a good year. A rollercoaster for sure, full of big change, uncertainty and frustration. But a good year nevertheless. A new job in a new country. A new car (downsizing). Turning fifty (and spending it with the best friends in the world!). Leaving our lovely house and friends in the North. Our last walk to the Edge. The big move South. Vince’s remarkable recovery from his terrible road accident in New Zealand. And, best of all, C beating breast cancer and the arrival of our gorgeous niece, Ella Rose. A very good year indeed.
It has been a good year despite the abject failure of my personal online campaigns against Brexit, against Jeremy Corbyn, and against the monster which is Trump. I must try harder next year.
As ever, there has been a fair amount of travel with one commute into my London office (yes, just the one!), regular trips to Paris, and quick hops to Rotterdam (including my upgrade to the Presidential suite), Amsterdam, Vienna, Milan, Malaga, Frankfurt and Istanbul, and, long-hauls to São Paulo (not my favourite), Porto Alegre, Kuala Lumpur and Manila. I am fast approaching silver status with British Airways…….as long as they don’t spend the whole of next year on strike!
The best, however, was a wonderful holiday with C in Taormina in Sicily. And, the spa weekend in Brockenhurst in Hampshire. And the walk along the Cheshire Way with the Lads. There have also been a couple of memorable day trips into London. It is nice to have the Big Smoke and Durham-ites on the doorstep.
It was a memorable and very hot first Surrey Hills summer interspersed with visits from good friends and family, drinking gin and cider (not in the same glass) outside the White Horse, meals in the Bray and other excellent local pubs, tickling trout in the Tillingbourne, walking to the farm shop, and watching the Ride London Surrey 100 cycle ride rush past the bottom of our lane……and being attacked by wasps. A summer of Olympic triumph and football humiliation at the hands of Iceland.
We have entertained ourselves with trips to the cinema to watch the Revenant, the latest Bourne (so formulaic and cliched), Louis Theroux’ My Scientology Movie. And we have stayed in with the Affair, the Americans, the Making of a Murderer, the Walking Dead, Episodes and Bloodline. We even spent an evening with Rick Stein…..in the flesh!
And, then there was the kind of entertainment you cannot pay for – C teaching her mom to use an iPad and me getting to “fix” the mother-in-law’s Kenwood mixer on Mothers Day. And spending time with Ella Rose…
It has been a good year. But not for everyone.
So many of our great entertainers, musicians and sporting heroes have been taken from us. Many far too soon. There must be one helluva New Years party going on upstairs.
The political world has undertaken a cosmic shift to the extent that we all now live in a surreal reality TV programme which has still to run its course.
Terrible wars continue to rage in the Middle East. Refugees continue to escape the horrors. Terrorists continue to attempt to invoke the end of days – remember Istanbul, Brussels, Orlando, Jo Cox, Nice, Wurzburg, St-Etienne-du-Rouvray, Berlin and almost daily incidents throughout the Middle East, North Africa, South East Asia and the Indian sub-continent. And then there is Putin, Trump’s new best friend ….
And, yet again Pizza Express removed my favourite pizza from their menu….
But we, at least, end the year with good health, great friends, and a long list of Rightmove properties to view. There is so much to look forward to. Not least a new home, hopefully with a big oven, working heating and a shower to die for and without the wasps and the mice. Who knows where we will be theis time next year? Hopefully celebrating with those closest and dearest to us.
True, there may be a deluded, racist, sexist megalomaniac about to take control of the nuclear button in the New Year, as the Tories start to block the Channel Tunnel with the unemployed. And, we might have to all learn to speak Russian. Bt it ain’t going to be dull. So, 2017, bring it on. Do your worst. We can take it!
Have a good one everybody!
But if you arrived here having Googled “being a man” or “perfect man” you’re probably already in the doo doo bro….or, dude….or mate….or whatever the down-with-the-kids reference du jour might be.
Men are, in general, having a bit of an identity crisis. Masculinity is under threat. Apparently it takes more than the ability to arm wrestle, grow a beard (shucks), and being able to assemble flat pack furniture (shucks).
That said, I have just returned from getting my silver fox locks cut in a “traditional” barbershop in Dorking, Surrey, where the air was a heady mix of talc, hair gel, testosterone and banter. And the sweet smell of someone vaping….
I looked down the line and noticed that all five of us in the chairs were hirsute , bearded. Two were having a shave. With a straight-edged cut-throat razor. Like real men. And this was despite an age range from early twenties to much, much older than myself….
We clients were referred all referred to as “boss” by the all-male barbers. And conversations were about football, the weather, work, and someone’s new car. It was a very male experience. Somewhat safe. Somehow comforting. Somewhat harking back to a world when men were men…..confused only by the moisturiser, texture gum and the occasional man bag. It was like it was back at in the day. Back in the old cave. Back on Mars….
For sure men still hold most of the political top jobs today, with notable exceptions such as kitten-heeled Theresa May and last year’s ‘Time’ magazine’ “Person of the Year”, Angela Merkel, both often judged more on their clothes rather than their policies. Which is probably no bad thing for them…..
But even poor old Hillary Clinton could not shatter the political glass ceiling in the USA even when faced with the American equivalent of Alf Garnett on drugs in a Klu Klux Klan cape and a badly-fitting ginger wig.
It is also still the case that less than ten percent of UK CEOs in our top 100 FTSE companies are female, while the gender pay gap continues to hover in the range of twenty percent.
And yet we hear that girls consistently outperform boys at school, at least up to GCSE level. And that suicide remains the main cause of death amongst men under the age of forty five….
It seems that the brave new world is a little confusing, surprising, and terrifying to the non-female of the species….
And, so many people seem to be asking “what does it mean to be a man today?” Indeed, somewhat ironically, this was the topic of Radio 5 Live’s “Women’s Hour” yesterday. And, this weekend sees the third Southbank Centre conference on “Being A Man”.
We must conclude that it isn’t easy being a modern man. Our roles have changed dramatically and quickly and continue to do so. In just two generations the clearly defined differences between the sexes have blurred. Society has changed. Many would say for the better. But not without consequences and complications.
And I haven’t yet found the YouTube video or the iPhone app that tells us how to adapt and make the change….
And the change is rapid. Two generations rapid. My grandmothers worked in service, managed their homes, and raised their children. My grandfathers both fought in World Wars, did manual work to pay the mortgage and put food on the table, often quite literally, providing fruit and vegetables from the veg patch in the garden or from the allotment. The roles were clear, distinct, yet complimentary.
Yes my own mom worked but she always made sure that she was around when we kids were small, even working the night shift in a factory while we slept. She cooked the food, did the washing and the ironing. Dad also worked hard and would make himself a sandwich and even do the vacuuming. And yet the roles were still fairly clear, fairly distinct, and complimentary.
The roles may be changing, merging, becoming more equal but not all us men are emotionally equipped to appreciate the change. To feel it.
I grew up being told by teachers and peers to “man up”; that “real men don’t cry”. I was sold on the virtue of the stiff upper lip. I was told to walk on the curb-side when walking with a lady. When I phone “home” as I do every Sunday my dad immediately passes the phone to my mom. It is as if it is mom’s role to enquire about what is going on in the family. If dad does talk on the phone it is normally to exchange information rather than emotion, with chats about football, DIY, or asking directions. Like the men in the barber shop.
Some would argue that men have suffered somewhat in the battle of the sexes. We have sometimes been blamed for the woes of the world. Blamed for the wars. Blamed for the banking crisis. Blamed for the grooming; for the abuse. Blamed for being stuck emotionally in the world of our fathers and grandfathers. But I’m not sure it is true that we are being blamed; or to blame. We just feel blamed….as we continue to wallow in the dark corners of our man caves and our garden sheds.
And for sure we still have to man up. Recognise that a SatNav can’t fix all of the communication problems in a relationship. Take responsibility. I have lived on Mars and taken refuge in my cave far too often….
But it is hard in a world that expects the modern man to be Casanova in the bedroom, Marco Pierre White in the kitchen, with the insight of Freud, and the wisdom of Solomon, the dress sense of David Beckham, and partial to a bossa nova on Strictly Come Dancing.
We are expected to be intellectual, entrepreneurial, entertaining, empathetic, body-aware metrosexuals, lovers, and heroic beard-sporting dads who cry in public and rush home from the office to spend time with the children before walking the dog, cooking dinner for the family, and settling down with a glass of red and a box set of Game of Thrones.
Well I have a beard. I do cry at sad films. I love my wife to bits. She is my best friend. I cook a mean hot pot and Sunday roast. I watch University Challenge and Question Time and enjoy a glass or three of red while watching “Sex and Sandles” . But, I am very much a work in progress. I am slowly emerging from my cave. But, and apologies to all my MAMIL friends, I shall not be donning the Lycra shorts any day soon….
But did I tell you that Brooklyn Beckham once mistook me for his dad?….
Do not worry America. World, do not fret yet. Keep calm my friends and family. Donald Trump will not be President. I say again, President-Elect Trump will never sit in the seat of power in the Oval Office….
No, not because of an assassination. But I wouldn’t rule it out.
And, no, not be a use of a legal challenge to the election result. Although I wouldn’t rule that out either.
Have you noticed that our media is awash with stories of space colonisation and alien invasion? “Independence Day: Resurgence” in our cinemas; “MARS” on The National Geographic channel on our TVs, and the return of the “X Files”; and even Jeff Wayne’s musical version of “The War of the Worlds” at the Dominion theatre in London’s West End….
The media is acting as a state-sponsored PR agency, preparing the ground for announcements soon to be made….
And, did you not wonder why with political tension between the USA at a pitch higher than at any time since the Cold War; with accusations of Putin deliberately interfering in the American election; and, fears over a potential World War Three as a result of armed clashes between the two great powers of in the Syrian conflict; why, in March this year a Russian Soyuz rocket launched a joint US / Russian crew to the International Space Station?
Why are the Super Powers putting aside Earthly political disagreements in order to cooperate in Space?
Aliens are coming! And, our politicians and their PR agencies are just trying to ease us in to the reality of it….
It has been known for a while. A blind Bulgarian mystic, Barbara Vanga, who died in 1996, predicted that Barack Obama, as 44th President of the United States, would be the last ever president. This has caused conspiracy theorists to believe that 2016 will be the year that Barack Obama will finally announce that aliens really do exist and have already visited the Earth. Area 51 is true.
Consequently the World will need to pull together, and form a new world government, and the role of US President will no longer function – leaving no place for Trump.
Miss Vanga’s predictions apparently had an 85% success rate, including the Boxing Day Tsunami. However, some of her incorrect interpretations include the date of this event, having predicted it would not be until 2130 that aliens would arrive on Earth and help humans to live under water. She also predicted the Third World War would start in 2010, and that Bulgaria would be in the 1994 World Cup final. So, there is still some room for scepticism….
But perhaps most revealing are the words of the last President himself. When questioned by a 6 year old girl on a TV show about the revelations within the fabled Presidential “Book of Secrets” and asked about the existence of aliens, Obama responded: “We haven’t actually made direct contact with aliens yet.
Many have focussed on the specific use of the word “direct”……
The truth is out there….aliens will save the world from Trump! Phew…
There is just a week to go until Remembrance Day. This is just one story of one ordinary man who served and died. Lest we forget….
This is the Great-Grandfather of my wife.
Joseph Hoolahan (1877 – 1915)
Joseph Hoolahan, my wife’s great-grandfather, was an ordinary man who lived an ordinary life. He died in France in the Great War. Let us remember him.
Joseph Hoolahan was born in Droylsden, Lancashire some 22 miles from Hadfield, Glossop on 27 Mar 1877. As such, he was the first generation of Hoolahan’s born in England. Droylsden had seen an influx of Irish immigrants from the mid-1800s following the development of the cotton mills and of the Ashton and Peak Forrest canals. It would seem that the Hoolahans came to England around 1876.
According to his military recorda, Joseph had brown hair and brown eyes, and, at the time of joining the army in 1914 aged thirty seven, was healthy, five foot three inches tall and weighed one hundred and twenty five lbs, with a chest size of thirty seven and a…
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In light of all this nonsense from FIFA regarding a ban on the England and Scotland football teams from wearing poppy armbands, I thought I would reblog this post.
The poppy is neither political (unless you ignore its meaning and choose to oppose its wearing), nor is it religious. It is a sign of respect and remembrance for those who fought and those who fell on the fields of Flanders, on the Normandy beaches, in the jungles of Korea, on the hills above Port Stanley, in the dust of Helmand, and everywhere else that brave men and women served and continue to serve to maintain our freedom and the right of people and organisations such as FIFA to spew such nonsense! @WearItWithPride
Yesterday the Royal British Legion launched this year’s annual Poppy Appeal. The RBL is a charity which provides support to men and women who are serving or have served in the Armed Forces, and their dependents. Selling poppies is one way in which they generate funds.
While I believe that the Poppy Appeal, and wearing of poppies, are common in North America (in Canada they are known as “Clowns Shoes”) and the Commonwealth, I know that their symbolism is not well understood in many parts of Europe. When I have worn my poppy on business trips in the past it has been the cause of some bemusement and discussion. So, I hope that this will be illuminating for some of my Continental visitors.
Wearing a poppy is also an important part of the annual Remembrance Day which is held on the Sunday closest to the 11th November and the…
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As it’s Hallowe’en….
Does anyone know anything about the ghost that apparently haunts the M6 motorway around junction 17 at Sandbach?
I was at a social function at the weekend and chatting to a traffic cop who works the motorways of Cheshire. There have been a number of fatalities on the M6 motorway recently and the stretch between junctions 16 (Crewe) and 19 (Knutsford) is a well-known accident blackspot. I have never understood this as it is a perfectly straight stretch of road with few distractions at the side. So, the policeman was asked to explain why.
Apparently, this stretch of the motorway is haunted. The locals and the policeman all agreed that many of the accidents had been caused by drivers who had been distracted by ghostly apparitions. Now, those of you who know me will realise that I am a sucker for a good ghost story and believe that I have…
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