Get behind your local football club! My Hadley FC story

I've really got to share something with you.  On Saturday, I got told off. I went off to watch Hadley FC for their 3pm kick off. My good lady wife was expecting me home for dinner around 6pm, I got back at ten. She was not chuffed, but sometimes you have to enjoy the moment. It was a special moment, let me explain. 

If you don't know who Hadley are, they play in the Pitchings Southern League, Central Division one. This is at step four of the non league pyramid, so eight leagues down from The Premiership. They are the oldest and best supported club in the London Borough of Barnet (now Barnet FC play in Harrow). Back in 2018, my nephew decided to write a blog about non league football in the London Borough of Barnet. He was looking for a project to keep him entertained. One of the first clubs he visited was Hadley FC. He liked the setup and suggested that I join him for a game. I did, towards the end of the season. I thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere. I used to go to a lot of non league games in the 1960's, when my Dad's business sponsored Edgware Town and then later when Barnet were at Underhill. I fell out of love with Barnet when they moved to The Hive, finding the experience soulless. I saw a few Wrexham games in the conference, before American millionaires bought them. I'd go with my Welsh mates, when they were playing and we'd do a pub crawl and grab a curry. However Hadley were step five, lower than Edgware were in the 1960 and five steps down from Barnet and Wrexham. 

I didn't take to much notice of crowd sizes. There were probably around a hundred people at the first game I went to, which I believe was 27 April 2019 against Stotfold. Hadley won 3-1. It was the last game of the season and Hadley finished third in the Spartan South Midlands League Premier Division. They were moved sideways to the Essex Senior League. The season was cut short due to the pandemic. 

I thoroughly enjoyed myself and decided to get a season ticket for the 2019-20 season. Sadly, the Pandemic ended this early. The last home game before lockdown was declared, Hadley won 7-0, little did we know what was around the corner!

What a team. @hadleyfc seventh goes in 7-0 pic.twitter.com/u3EKvgf1hx

— Roger Tichborne/Rog T (@Barneteye) March 7, 2020

 In 2020-21, I again got a season ticket. The second lockdown started at Xmas, we attended the match on the 19th December, as it was one of the only public places you could get a beer with your mates legally. The season started again in April, with two games in the FA Vase, Hadley losing to Binfield on penalties in the fifth round. In 2021-22, Hadley were back in the Spartan League, obtaining promotion after a fine season and winning the Gladwish Challenge Trophy against Stotfold. I thoroughly enjoyed the season, the first full one for me as a fan. 

In 2022-23, they were playing in tier four, the highest ever league that Hadley had appeared in. To my horror, their best player left before a ball was kicked in anger. The season was a baptism of fire, with Hadley not winning until October. Our hope was to simply avoid relegation, but as the season wore on, new players came in, the team adjusted and by the end of the season, Hadley had a very respectable mid table finish. I thought the team had massively over performed, given the difference in quality between step 5 an step 4. I had started to make quite a few friends at the club, and was delighted that one of them, Tom Hammond, who organises the half time tennis ball challenge was a Trumpet player. He joined our band, The False Dots in the Autumn and has been a real breath of fresh air. That is what non league football is like though, you stay after the game, have a beer and a chat and get to know people. 

For the 2023-24 season, I had reset my expectations. Not to a ridiculous extent, but it was clear to me that the club would do better than just survive. The season however started with a tragedy. Manager Anthony Clark's son lost a battle with cancer. A huge shadow descended over the club. It seemed that football wasn't terribly important. The team didn't win until the last day of September and there was, in truth, a muted feeling around the place. We all went and supported the team, but it was hard to get too animated. By December, it seemed that the team were in for a relegation struggle, but in January, with a new year and new players coming in, the team found its mojo, losing only four games in 2024. New striker Isaac Stones became the league's top scorer and the team finished a very respectable ninth. The season ended on a real high, with a trip to San Marino to play a friendly against Juvenes Dogana, a team that has several San Marino international players on their books (sadly on duty that night). Hadley won 9-1 and a great weekend was had by all. 

9-1 to the @hadleyfc boys!#Sanmarino @HadleyBricks #hadleyontour pic.twitter.com/fBbvdXxKdF

— Roger Tichborne/Rog T (@Barneteye) June 9, 2024

Hadley Super Fan Chris Nash had arranged the whole thing. It is a measure of how good a fan base the club had developed to see so many make the trip.

The new 2024-25 season started with high hopes. Perhaps for the first time, we could realistically dream of a top half finish. I am not quite sure any of us expected what we got! The team have reached the fourth qualifying round of the FA trophy for the first time in the clubs history. They are also unbeaten, having won six out of seven league games, sitting top of the table as I write this. It is early days and we all need to be realistic, but beating Berkhamsted on Saturday to go clear was a magical moment. The fact that it was club President Tristram's birthday was the icing on the cake. I stayed in the clubhouse, celebrating for far too long with a bunch of hardcore fans. Football is fickle and I know that there will be all manner of challenges, but I felt I had to put pen to paper to chronicle my journey whilst we are on a high. When I first went to Hadley, I had no real expectations. I thought it would be a good way to spend an afternoon, but had no plans to get a season ticket or go to San Marino as a supporter. But the truth is that the club, and the other clubs they play in the lower leagues are the beating heart of football. Where else do the fans have a beer with the club president and chairman after the game? 

Hadley FC have a massive game tomorrow (Tuesday 1st October) at Brickfield Lane (opposite The Gate pub on the  107/384 bus route). They are playing Aylesbury United who are three points behind. We lost our top scorer, Isaac Stones to injury on Saturday and he's very doubtful for the game, against a key rival. It is always a great night under the lights, so if you are not doing anything come along. Say Hi and have a beer! It is a very different experience from the Premiership. You can grab a beer and watch the game. The fans mix and the referee will often join us in the clubhouse, where we usually tell him how bad he was in a friendly manner! The supporters of the opposition also join us and swap tales. It is how football should be. 

The Sunday Reflection #24 - Is there any point praying for peace?

I had an absurd thought earlier. Has anyone ever prayed for unending war across the planet? Then a horrific thought came to me and I realised that the thought wasn't so absurd. Why? Well if you look at the global arms industry, the companies that make arms and the people who's jobs rely on it, and the people who's pensions are funded by companies that make arms, it is not so absurd at all. If we had 'World Peace' and it was enduring, a large number of people would feel a big hit in their pockets. What interests me is that the arms industry and it's lobbyists rarely call themselves arms dealers and manufacturers. They use terms like security. They emphasise the non military use of many of their developments, such as radar, jet engines, rockets, etc, all of which started life as militry equipment.

But the truth is that without situations like the Middle East and Ukraine, there would be a lot of people who would find their 'investments' to be worthless. Do any of them actually pray for new wars to start to line their pockets even more? Whether you look at the Middle East or Ukraine, every bullet, every rocket, every drone has been sold at a profit. Someone, somewhere has lined their pocket for every single item. If you have some spare cash and you want to make a profit, you could write down a list of all the arms companies listed on global stock markets and pull one out at random. You can be sure you'll get a nice dividend and the global situation will mean that the shares will rise.

If you are a Church going sort, every week your priest/vicar/whatever will exhort you to pray for peace, most likely leading a prayer and listing the places that are in the news this week. Chances are that there will be plenty of places missed off the list, such as Yemen and Sudan, simply because there are so many and us Westerner types care far more about countrys that have a European population. I would guess that people have prayed for peace, since the concept of Prayer was first invented by Adam and Eve (a figure of speech, I am sure someone will tell me someone else came up with it first).

Why do we bother? Given the billions of people who've prayed for peace in the world over millennia, is there any point? Does it do anything apart from make those of us saying the prayers feel slightly less bad about the fact that we are completely impotent when it comes to trying to stop war. When I was a teenage punk rocker, I followed a pacifist, anarchist band called Crass, who had a song called "Fight War Not Wars". It was a slogan that endured long after Crass faded away. One of Crass's ideas was that things like prayer was a waste of time, their songs were openly abusive about religion. Sadly singing songs proved no more effective than prayer. 

Is there any point at all in Prayer, especially to stop war, especially when all of the evidence is that it has no effect at all? This does trouble me. I often pray. Often for silly things, like to locate my wallet that has disappeared. More often than not, within a minute of saying a short prayer to St Anthony, it will pop up in the oddest places, such as in the fridge or in the dogs bed. I profusely thank St Anthony for his efforts and muse as to how it possibly made it's way there. My wife, having no faith, just assumes I'm an idiot and put it in the fridge when I got a cold beer out. In truth, it's usually her that finds it and will get irritated if she hears me thank St Anthony, given that she thinks she did the work. To me it works though. But whilst St Anthony can find a wallet in the fridge, it occurred to me that I had no idea who the patron Saint of Peace was. I know St Jude is the patron saint of lost causes, so maybe he'd be best, but being a consciencios blogger, I did a quick google.

I was shocked to learn that despite being at thousands of masses in my life, I didn't know this and had never heard mention. It is such an important subject that there are two. There is St Francis of Assisi and St Isabella of Portugal. A terrible, wicked thought crossed my mind. Were the Church deliberately suppressing prayers to perfectly good saints, who mught do the business, because war is actually good for business? If a quick prayer to the pair of the could persuade all of these blood thirsty maniacs to have a change of heart, why on earth aren't we using their services? (for those of you unfamiliar with the concepts of Saints and Catholicism, the idea is that Patron Saints have the ear of the Lord and so ensure the job gets done). Or maybe, a more mundane answer is that in truth, the top brass in our churches have realised that in a match between the saints and the blokes with wonga, the saints will come second.

I suspect that whilst so many people are lining their pockets handsomely and paying off politicians to do their bidding, the idea of peace is a forlorn hope. We have created a world where millions are living in fear of death, where whole continents are suffering drought and famine, because we are spending money on arms rather than fixing people's lives. When I was an idealsitic teenager and young adult, I believed our generation would do better. I believed that bands like Crass singing fight war not wars would open our eyes and make us reject the greedy ways that provides the breeding ground for war and conflict. 

A lovely old lady once told me that if you were praying for something, God only listened if you believed with all your heart and all of your mind that God would answer your prayer. Maybe the reason all of our prayers for peace fail is because we are so ground down that we say them knowing they'll be ignored. So is there any point at all praying for peace? I've spent years thinking about this. I have changed my mind many times, sometimes through despair, such as when Russia invaded Ukraine. Sometimes in joy, when the Northern Irish peace deal was done. 

Where I am now is this. I believe it is encumbant on our religious leaders to show proper moral leadership in this matter. I'll try a little prayer to the two patron saints of peace tonight, but should I wake up tomorrow and Putin & the rest haven't had a change of heart, I will conclude that until all of the leaders of faiths get together and publicly state that this has to stop and that waging war and selling arms at huge profit is immoral, then the rest or our prayers will go unanswered. But if you want to carry on trying, then that's fine as well. Surely sooner or later, humanity will wake up to the fact that the warmongerers are ruining are planet and they have to stop? If we don't then I don't think even God will bother to help us. 

The Saturday List #455 - Ten things I used to love, but now I can't stand!

 As I do every Saturday morning, I awoke to a lovely cup of tea from my wonderful wife and the sounds of Dr Carrie Grant and her hubby David on BBC Radio London. Every week Carrie does a throw out on Twitter, asking for feedback from listeners. This was her throw out this week

This week on BBC Radio London @BBCLondonNews Saturday Breakfast show @DavidGrantSays and I asking:
1. Do you limit your Social Media use? Do you use SM too much? How much is too much? 2. Songs/lyrics/bands with the word STOP in. pic.twitter.com/uEXe7XTuCR

— Dr Carrie Grant MBE (hc) 💙 (@CarrieGrant1) September 28, 2024

.

I posted the following reply

To be honest I’m bored of social media, present company excepted. Too much spam on @facebook  and hate on @x   - only still on mostly to promote blog & band

I find Facebook incredibly frustrating. All I ever see is ads and I miss most of the content that I want to see. It's only when I think "What has Dave been up to?" and I check, I find that he's been up to all sorts, but Facebook has decided I'm not interested and shown me adverts for Ocado, invites from porn stars and toys for cats ( I don't have a cat). As for Twitter, or X as it's now known, Elon Musk has decided that I want to read tripe from the likes of Elon Musk, Isabel Oakeshott and videos of other people assaulting each other, rather than the people I actually follow. At least they give you the option to switch the view, far too often I forget and find myself looking at Nigel Farage spouting bilge. If I wanted to see what Farage had to say, I'd follow him. Mr Musk has decided that the way forward for his platform is to charge people to access it, or they get lumbered with bilge and paid for content. 

On both platforms there's still loads of great content, but because of the policies of the owners, I rarely see it. Whereas I used to enjoy looking at the sites, now it mainly just irritates me. If I didn't write a blog and have a band and feel the need to keep in touch, I'd knock the whole thing on the head. There is a little part of me that would much prefer to live in a cottage in John O'Groats, cut off from the world, living on potatos grown in my garden and lobsters and crabs caught in the sea. In reality I'd get bored and go insane after a couple of days, but that is how I feel.

Anyway, Carrie's post and my thoughts on the matter got me thinking "What can't I stand now, that I used to love?".  It seemed like a great subject for a Saturday list,

1. Driving. I can remember when I passed my test. I was so pleased that I drove to Northampton for an unannounced cup of tea with my sister Cath. It was a joy. Now? I can't stand it. Drivers have become so impatient and aggressive. If you delay someone for more than a second at a traffic light, they beep you. If you need to change lane, they don't let you in. If you break the speed limit, you get flashed and have to do a 'speed awareness course'. You can't park anywhere, you are constantly stuck in traffic and if you want a nice motor with a bit of style, you'll get clobbered by the Mayor for owning a gas guzzler. I hate driving now.

2. Chocolate. When I was a kid, there was nothing I loved better than a nice bar of Chocolate. I ever starred in adverts for both Galaxy and Cadbury's chocolate bars. I was delighted to get a case fill of chocolate bars as a thank you for doing such a great job (sadly my Mum gave them to the church bazaar, something I still resent). I haven't got a particularly sweet tooth but recently, if I have a bar of chocolate, it tastes of nothing. They have lowered the cocoa content and it tastes a bit like a bar of soap. There is a Turkish shop at the bottom of my road, that sells a German chocolate bar with Hazelnuts, which tastes good, but the chocolate's that I used to love have been completely ruined.

3. Heinz Baked Beans. Heinz baked beans used to be an integral part of my Saturday morning fry up. Then they changed the recipe. Again I'm biased as I starred in a Heinz beans advert. Like Cadburys, they gave me a case of beans. I wasn't quite as excited. I loved beans, but they changed the recipe. Now they taste disgusting. Oddly, when we went to Australia in 2017, the beans there still taste great, but now I really can't stand them. 

4. Queen. I remember when Queen first appeared on TOTP playing Seven Seas of Rye. I thought they were great. Proper rock and roll. Punk hadn't reared it's flem covered head and there was nothing much in the charts. They became my favourite band. Then they released Bohemian Rhapsody. Everyone loved them, my mates would have long debates as to the genius of Freddy Mercury. The only problem was that I hated the song. I felt let down and betrayed. They got ever more pretentious. Occasionally, they'd catch my attention with a proper rock and roll ditty like "Crazy little thing called love", buit my snooty mates would say "That's a rubbish pop song, they should do more stuff like A night at the Opera". I met Brian the guitarist once. I was chatting to his Mrs, Sir John Geilgud and Stephen Fry at the studios where The Tichborne Claimant was being shot. He was incredibly rude and unfriendly.I could see that Anita, Stephen and Sir John felt extremely uncomfortable, so I moved on.  I later had a cup of tea with Sur John, who sniggered and suggested Brian was a bit miffed as Anita seemed to be enjoying our chat. She was really nice, but I didn't like her hubby at all. I was a bit disappointed as he's a fellow guitarist. That was the final straw for me with the band. Oddly, my Dad used to know Roger Taylor, the drummers Dad. I met him once and he told me that he was a bit embarrassed as he'd always nagged Roger to get a proper job, as being in a band wasn't a proper job. His Dad seemed like a nice bloke. 

5. Pink Floyd. I've mentioned this many times. See Emily Play was my favourite song of the 1960's. I loved Floyd, but then they became rubbish. Syd Barratt left. When I loved them, all my snobby friends and relatives looked down and called them a silly pop band. When they started to make turgid, lumpy albums ladened with doom and stripped of fun, they all started to love them. I think Pink Floyd were the band that made me realise that I am not really a lover of boring rock music. I prefer up beat Punk, Ska and Soul. 

6. The Guardian. My mum used to read the Guardian. My Dad read the Express. This reflected their politics. I read both. I liked the sports coverage in The Express and the politcal analysis of the Guardian. The paper had all sorts of features and writers I loved. Martin Walker as the Moscow correspondent, Simon Hoggart as sketch writer, Kevin McCarra as football writer, Steve Bell and Doonesbury's cartoons. I still get both, but I am at the point of cancelling the Guardian. The only writer I enjoy is John Crace. I find most of the articles unreadable. I'm dyslexic and I always preferred the snappier tone of the tabloids, but good writers, such as those listed above transcend that. Bad writers, use lots of long, difficult words, to sound clever, but write dull content. It pains me to say it, but the paper has lost the good things and been swamped by the pretentiousness that always lurked. If I want to watch a film, I go to the ones that they give a bad review to.

7. The Labour Party. I used to be a member of the Labour Party from 1983 until 2009. I haven't changed my  views or politics. I believe that the job of the Labour party is to further the lot of the common working person in the UK. What do I see? I see a party lead by a man who seems to see politics as a means to build a grand collection of clothes, have free holidays and generally sponge off rich benefactors. I really don't care what you say, but rich people never buy influence for the good of the poorest and most vulnerable. There are a whole host of targets for justified tax rises, not least greedy companies, especially energy and water companies, but who gets a kicking? Pensioners. As for the Barnet Labour party.....

8. Having a proper job. I worked in IT for 33 years on and off, mostly as a freelance IT consultant. This tapered well with running my studio and provided much of the funds I needed to build the amazing setup we now have. For the first 20 years, it was great. The people I worked with were intelligent and good fun. The work was interesting, I got to meet a lot of great people. They paid for me to go to all manner of great places, Washington in the USA, Pune in India, Dublin, Edingburgh, Manchester, etc. It worked for me. But over the last 13 years, it started to get worse. The whole industry became wrapped up in paperwork. Jobs were moved out of the UK. The UK has effectively been deskilled. From doing proper development work and innovating, I became a paper shuffler. By the time I finally clocked off in 2017, I'd had enough. It was no fun. I still love running my studio and working 35 hours a week instead of 70 is great.

9. The Premiership. How can you hate something you love? I still love Manchester City FC. I am not blind to what the club is, but once a blue..... I was up there on Tuesday watching them play Watford in the League cup. I could not live and be happy without football, but I hate and loathe the Premiership. I blame the "Big Five" but especially Manchester United and Arsenal. They set up a crooked cartel to line their pockets, keep out upstart clubs and cement their position forever. City were a joke club at the time, so cannot be blamed. They opened the door for dodgy foreign investors (who now own the Premiership). The clubs lined shareholders pockets. Whereas in the 1970's clubs like Derby and Forest won the League, it became Arsenal and Man Utd. Then a cataclysm happened. Roman Abramovich brought Chelsea, Abu Dhabu bought City and more recently Saudi Arabia bought Newcastle. The comfy cartel was smashed. They retaliated by bringing in FFP. This is all about stopping the mega rich upsetting their comfy cartel. Sadly, the horse has bolted. Since 2012, United have been frozen out. They now can't even make the Champions league. I hate the whole bloody thing. I still love City, but I see it all for what it is. I now have a season ticket at Hadley FC in the Southern League. I prefer everything about non league football, except the part of me that will always be Manchester City. The most laughable thing of all is Arsenal fans moaning about City, when they were key players in setting up the organisation that has ruined football. I don't blame their fans though. We are all jus mugs on a bus going nowhere. 

10. Attractive women propositioning me. I never thought I would say this. There is nothing I love more than the company of attractive women, especially my missus. However, more or less every day, I get unsolicited messages from attractive ladies seeking my company. Often they send, what might be deemed rather naughty pictures. I would never have thought that such things would sicken me, but it does. Life is weird. 

There's plenty of great things about the modern world, but there is a little bit of me that years for the simpler times, when you started the football season not knowing if you'd win the league or get relegated, when you could enjoy a drive to Manchester, when you didn't think every unsolicted contact from anyone was a scammer after your dosh, where work was fun and you'd go for a beer with your work mates after. I wrote a song to remind myself of all of this

Dyslexia Vs Cancer? Which one has been the bigger blight on my life?

 I had a curious thought this week. Which has cast a bigger shadow over my life, dyslexia or cancer? Both have loomed large in my life and shaped me in some way. But if I could have changed one, which would it be? 

In the red corner, we have dyslexia. By the time I knew I was dyslexic, I'd largely mitigated the effects. When it most plagued me, I simply thought I was thick. Well to be honest, I didn't think I was thick, but all my teachers did. They would constantly tell me this. At St Vincents, my parents came up for parents evening. We had a weekly spelling test and if you got all ten words correct you got a star. Whilst all my friends had plenty, I had none at all. My teachers told my parents I was 'lazy and thick'. When I went to Finchley Catholic High School, if I got a C in a subject I viewed it as most people view an A. At the end of the third year, we got to choose our 'O level and CSE subjects'. I was encouraged to choose building studies, which was for 'non academic pupils'. I jumped at this, as it meant I got half a day a week out of school, at the Curriculum centre in Barnet. I studied decoration and design for two years. It was the most useful thing I learned at school.  Oddly, when I reached the age of fourteen, my brain started to process information properly. I switched to Orange Hill School, and ended up passing nine O levels and two A levels, albeit scraping in just over the line. When I left school, I moved to Stockholm, returning to become a painter and decorator, whilst persuing my punk rock career. I never had any expectations of getting a proper job. To my amazement, in 1983, I managed to get on a TOPS course and get a job in IT. When I told my parents, my Dad's comment was "how did you manage that?". He was genuinely surprised. My new work colleagues were unaware of the baggage I carried, although some were a bit snooty about my lack of a degree. After a while, when they realised I could do the job, they seemed less bothered. By the time I was 33, my parents had concluded I was a 'late developer'. 

When my wife became pregnant, I decided to address an issue that I felt needed dealing with, if I was to be a good parent. I signed up for some anger management counselling. As we explored my issues, the therapist asked if I was dyslexic. I said that I didn't think so. They suggested I was assessed. To me horror, I was told I was. When I discussed this with my therapist, things fell into place. The roots of my deep rooted anger was that I had not been stupid and I knew it, but people had treated me as such all through my youth. My defence mechanism was anger and bad behaviour. I felt I'd not been given a fair chance and felt a burning sense of injustice. My response was, quite often, self destructive. The biggest victim was my self confidence. I was lucky. When I discovered punk rock music all of that changed, but it is clear to me that I've was massively held back. In truth, I was capable enough to adapt and probably ended up having a better life than if I'd had a normal brain function. I may even have been an arrogant, obnoxious twat with little empathy for the people in society getting a kicking. But who knows, all I know is that from the age of four to fifteen, school was a nightmare, to the extent that I ended up on valium for anxiety under a child psychologist who missed the fact that I was dyslexic. Worst of all for me, people who are not dyslexic simply don't get it. I hear parents of dyslexic kids say the most stupid things. I have learned to bite my tongue, but I see miserable kids and that upsets me. 

In the yellow corner, we have cancer. It has taken two bites at me. One, when I was seven and my mum was diagnosed with stomach cancer and given three years to live ( I didn't know the extent at the time). I had to see my Dad crack up, my mum with tubes and pipes in her and suffer old ladies at church saying "Poor little mite". Then there was my cousin telling me I was off to the orphanage. To everyone's surprise (except my mum), she recovered but it was a terrible period. I think I suffered a degree of PTSD seeing what she endured. It is a dark period that I feel is hard to process. We didn't talk about it. For decades I resented the fact that my parents told my older sister Caroline (who was eleven) what was going on, but excluded me. When I wrote this in a blog, she told me they hadn't, she was in the dark as well. She had the same feelings. Mum got better and I locked all of the feelings in a cupboard in my mind. In 2011, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I've detailed this in my cancer blog series. Here I am, sixty two years old. Liberated from my cancerous prostate last year, but a year in, still feeling to some extent the sword of damacles hangs over me.  I was spared the worst of it. I am continent. I can't have kids anymore, but three is probably enough. I've got some degree of sexual function, far better than I feared, but not what I was and only really possible with tablets most of the time. 

But worst of all, I have spent too much time thinking about it. I realise I was selfish and pretty angry a lot of the time when dealing with the issues. I regret that. Despite working on it, I still get irritable too easily and snap aat people when stressed. I am lucky that I have forgiving people around me. The truth is that it has cast a cloud. four times a year I have PSA tests and as each approaches, I get anxious. Now I recognise some people have situations that are a million times worse, but I can only really document my life.

Which brings me to the question I have. Which of these two issues has been the bigger blight? I have to say that, from where I stand now, I believe that dyslexia wins hands down. Whilst cancer is horrible and I wouldn't wish it one anyone, it never made me feel bad about myself, question myself or be racked with self doubt. It didn't affect the way people treated me and no one ever ridiculed me for it, when I was at a low point. The physical side of cancer is of course far more probelematical, but I never ended up in psychotherapy as a result. 

So what am I saying? Well when it comes down to it, because cancer is a physical thing, people can understand it. With dyslexia, you are pretty much on your own if you have no dyslexic peers. Your parents will not get what you are going through and their 'encouragement' will often have the opposite effect. Over the years, I've learned to read the signs and can spot someone who is dyselexic (or with similar issues) purely by where they stand in a crowded room. I've trained myelf to appear confident, singing in a band helps, but my natural inclination is to hide in crowds. What I am trying to say is that, as far as I am concerned, dyslexia isn't nothing, it is a massive thing. To me, in my case, its worse than having prostate cancer, and I am not saying that lightly or glibly. 

Rock and Roll Stories #15 - A rock and roll miracle

I had a dream that I was dead and I was sitting on this massive leather chair in a waiting room to go some place else, where I don't know. I realised that Jesus was sitting next to me, smoking a big cigar. He wasn't the Jesus you see portrayed in stain glass windows, or even in the new testament. He was this really cool bloke, who you just felt happy rapping with. He said to me "What do you reckon?". My answer "It's been a laugh, hasn't it?". He looked at me and just said "Hasn't it, shaking his head and smiling". 

At that point, Clare woke me up with a cup of tea. I was rather discombobulated. I wasn't dead or having a cigar with Jesus. I was alive and there are still things to be done. My first thought though was "Blimey, it's a miracle, why did he send me back to all this?".

That was about three weeks ago. It has been troubling me ever since. I am not sure I've fully figured it out, but stick with me.  Do you ever wonder why you were put here? Until I was fourteen, I felt lost and didn't have a clue. Then I saw the Ramones at The Roundhouse and discovered punk rock in 1977. I decided that my life was going to be about music and playing in a band. It took us a couple of years to get things sorted out, buy instruments, learn to play them so we could at least make a recognisable noise, and recruit other members. 

Once all of this was done, we started rehearsing. At some point around then, I started a scrapbook, to keep the mementos as we progressed. Boz Boorer, a school mate of Morrissey and The Polecats fame, told me t didn't look very 'Punk Rock', so I crossed out the "S" and it became the 'Crapbook'. I had a rummage through it recently, to see if it could throw any light on my search for answers.

 "That the False Dots are still going at all means quite a lot. The fact we are better now than ever is a big plus" I wrote those words in January 1984. Oddly they are still true. In fact, it is not just a big plus, it's a rock and roll miracle. In 1980, I started a band scrapbook, to keep whatever memento's we collected on our journey. I also wrote a narrative at the end of every year. At the end of 1984 I finished my summary saying "the high point was Dingwalls in February and after that it was all downhill. Now at least the band can pull back a bit from all the pop stuff we've been doing". By 1990, I wrote "We did 1 gig that was great and I loved the music but I couldn't commit to it anymore so we let it go. I put down the guitar and decided to kiss it all goodbye. FOREVER!!!.

In 2001, I add "or at least until 2001 as the final sentence. 

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At the back of the scrapbook, I listed 8 facts that you should know about The False Dots. The bits in brackets are things I've added here so you have some clue what I am talking about. 

1. The False Dots interview with Xpert-I (a fanzine we spoke to in 1979 - the interview was a disaster) was the biggest joke since the American early warning system at Pearl Harbour. 

2. Our first gig was the most successful disaster of all time.

3. Craig (former guitarist) likes sandwiches.

4. Progress is continual pissing in the wind

5. We would like to see Bunsen Burn (Pete Conway had a punch up with a band called Bunsen's lead singer).

6. Venessa is really very talented, that's why she left.

7. Roger is not, that is why he stayed

8. I suppose you have concluded from this that time is a passing fancy.... Boing

Now I wrote that in 1980/81 sometime, around when I first started the scrapbook. The idea was that the last page would be a sort of interesting stream of consciousness list of interesting facts. As you probably guessed from the title (hopefully), this is one of my series of blogs about the history of The False Dots. Most of the stories have been from years, if not decades ago. I've not really said anywhere what I feel about the band, the state of music and told any stories from right now. The reason I started with the snippets at the top, is because they were simply what I was feeling 'right now', when right now was a very long time ago. All of these points were massively significant or funny when written. The reference to Craig and his sandwiches, was because his Mum would always bring him a packet of sandwiches to eat at gigs, in case he got hungry (very un Rock and Roll). I banned my parents from gigs, as I was too worried about looking cool. Oddly, I suppose, there's nothing I'd love more than for my folks to turn up now, with a packet of sandwiches, however, short of Jesus raising them from the dead, it won't happen. Times change.

The Rock and Roll stories of the early years of The False Dots were all about shenanigans, chaos, putting bands together and kids playing at being rock and roll stars. I realised that there are still stories, but the tone and feel of them has changed. The last gig of the summer, we did was at the Jesterfest in Fortune Green for Lyn Boorer. We had made the mistake of timing it to coincide with England's game against Switzerland. Only the False Dots could release a song supporting England and then book two gigs that clashed with England games. What it meant was that as soon as we finished playing, we legged it down to the Alliance in West Hampstead and watched the second half. As we were walking down, we learned England were losing. We got there just as England equalised. The band shared a few beers with a few of our fans who'd made it down and England won! It was a blast and we all went home happy! It was fun, but wasn't the sort chaotic post gig party the Dots were famed for in 1983, but we've all grown up a bit.

Our rehearsals have changed. They used to be attended by all manner of mates/girlfiends and hangers on. They would often sit in the room next door, smoking hashish, listening to records and waiting for us to finish, whilst we wrote songs, rehearsed the set and argued with each other. When we were done, often, we'd go out and play five a side football, under the M1 motorway lights, in Bunns Lane Works, then drink tea until 3am. 

I can't recall the last time a friend or hanger on turned up to watch. One of the best bits of a band rehearsal for me is the time spent chatting between songs. Anecdotes are swapped. Our drummer, Graham Ramsey is a great source of inspiration for songs. Grahame works for Camden council on their maintenance team, repairing homes for council tenants. As you can imagine, there is a rich vein of stories to mine. He's been with the band since 1985. I wanted Graham to join for a long time before that, but he was in other bands, that seemed to be doing a bit better than us. When he joined I thought (not for the first or last time) that he was the final piece in the puzzle. I've come to realise that there is no such thing. Every iteration of the band has good things and bad things. I mentioned Craig and his sandwiches above. I've mentioned him before. I didn't really ever get on with him, but he was absolutely vital to the band when he was in it. He was a good musician and reliable. He was there for many of our best moments. I'd be fascinated one day to hear his take on the whole thing. Whereas for many years, I'd have got the hump hearing his take, now it would be great to put it all in perspective. Hearing his memories, now (hopefully) neither of us has an exe to grind (or bury in each others head) would be something special. I am surprised he never really made more of his talents as a musician, as he was very good indeed. He had a great work ethic as a musician, but was never really part of the scene we had as a band, even though he was a quarter of the band. It is funny how you can spend so much time with people and know nothing about them.

What surprised me is that much of what I wrote in 1984 is as true now as it's ever been. I think the line up the band now have is great, and playing with the boys excites me. The songs we do are better than ever (we have 45 years of material to choose from). Adding Tom Hammond on Trumpet has made the band finally sound like the noise in my head that was The False Dots. It is hard to explain, but although we've been really good at various points, but in terms of just being happy with what we are doing, I don't think I've ever been happier.  I thought I'd make a list of what makes a great band. These are in order of what I think are important. All are important to some degree and if any of these are missing, it will be a grim gig. 

1. Energy

2. Charisma

3. Excitement/fun

4. Creativity

5. Unity of purpose

6. Technical ability

Which brings us to where we are today. To me the band scores pretty well on all categories. If I was to be a nerd, plug all of this into a spreadsheet and look at the 38 different line ups of the band, I think the current version would be up there. When I was sixteen and first talking about putting the band together, the idea that I'd still be playing live, and doing Not all she seems, which we wrote in 1980, would be bizarre. I thought that blokes my age now smoked pipes, watched cricket and snoozed along in olive green cardigans with big, round, brown buttons. The idea of someone older than my Dad, jumping up on stage at a trendy Camden pub like The Castle would be insanity, yet here we are!

We are not the trouble makers we were as teenagers. We don't look for pretty girls at gigs to chat up and invite to parties, but there are still hilarious moments. One of the funniest was when a mate of mine bumped into his youngest son's mates at a False Dots gigs. They were all having a boogie, when they saw their mates Dad joining in. We get quite a few tourists turning up, just to see what the Dublin Castle is like. Often they will assume that we must be very famous, to be our age and playing such a place.  Then you get the old punks, turning up out of curiosity. Some will get the obscure references in songs. Some will even spot the obscure references, that I'd put in unconsciously.  On occasions, one might even get a bit mardy as they've spotted a reference that I thought was hilarious, that they thought was really serious. We also occasionally get 'the competition' come down. Bands that used to be on the circuit with us decades ago, who remembered the name and come along to see what's happening. The "I saw you at Dingwalls in 1984, what happened to the girl singer" type comment comes out. Then there are those who saw us ten or fifteen years ago. In my mind quite recently, but in there minds a lifetime ago (if they are under 40). Often the comment is "We came down to see Fil (our bassplayer)". When we played at Camden Lock in 2009, Mandy, our very first female singer in 1979 turned up. It was amazing to see her. She was astounded that the band had somehow survived and was still playing in Camden.

There is no better feeling than to be up on stage, watching a bunch of people getting into the music you are making. I've always tried to avoid being in a covers/tribute band. Being able to play your music and get  response from an idea that floated into you mind whilst walking the dog, or sitting on a broken down train is always satisfying. I know plenty of bands who make a decent living playing Mr Brightside and Wonderwall, which are nice enough numbers, but for me, there would be little point in spending my life re-emphasising that The Killers and Oasis can write a Killer tune. 

I started this blog talking about that conversation in the big leather chair with Jesus. I've always thought that a fella who turns water into wine for his mates at a party, when the booze has run out and who pulls up a bunch of hypocrites trying to stone a woman to death for sleeping around would probably enjoy the band. When our final breath is done and we find ourselves in that big chair in the waiting room in the sky, I may have regrets, but I know for sure that having somehow managed to keep a Rock and Roll band going for 45 years will not be one of them!

See what you think. Here's one of our recent numbers

Education, growing up and personal responsibility

 On Sunday I posted a blog where I detailed my experiences with a former headmaster of a school I attended. As sometimes happens, I got a nice message, suggesting I grow up, stop blaming everyone for all of my personal failures and took personal responsibility for everything that has gone wrong in my life.

Everyone is entitled to their opinion. As it happens, I think I've done alright. If I list my blessings, they are many. I didn't write Sundays blog to blame everything that is wrong in my life on Mr Daniel Coughlan. In truth, I can't actually think of too much wrong with my life. It is pretty blessed and I am as happy as anyone could reasonably expect.

But having said that, there are a few things in my life I'd change. All of these, I've actually worked quite hard to address. I used to have some major anger issues. I addressed this as best I could. I still overreact at times, when faced with sudden aggression. I also get angry on occasion when I think people are being stupid or unreasonable. However, I've learned to manage this as best as I can. I've had counselling and help in the past. This taught me strategies, which work top mitigate the effects of anger. One thing I earned though, is that anger is a natural response to difficult situations. You can't completely eradicate anger in all scenarios, however desireable that may be. 

The problem for me is that, I went to a school where the remedy was violence for all problems. It took me a while to get past that. I was lucky, I changed schools and saw a different way. At Orange Hill, I don't think the cane was ever used. Things were dealt with in a different way. There were no regular playground fights. For years I attributed this to it being mixed. I have reassessed this. I now think that institutional reliance on violence lead to the atmosphere and lead to an atmosphere of antipathy that damaged our education. When I changed school, most of the effects disapated. It was however a period in my life when I was unhappy and anxious. 

If we are strong, we rise above such things. I think I’m strong, I’m glad I have put it behind me

Holding to account Danny Coughlan, former Head of the Lower School at Finchley Catholic High School

 Have you ever thought you were going to die? I know we all die sooner or later, but what I mean is in the next minute or two? It has only happened to me twice. Once when I was hit by a speeding car in Burnt Oak in 1988 and the other when I was an 11 year old pupil at Finchley Catholic High School. I'd been at the school about four months. It was January. The rule was that at break times, we had to all go into the playground. Teachers would guard the door, to ensure that we didn't go back in. On this particular day, it was freezing cold. At the end of 'dinner break', I was keen to get back into the classroom to warm up. I positioned myself at the front of the queue. 

Shortly before the bell was due to ring, to allow us back in, there was a clap of thunder and it started raining. There was a mad scrum towards the door. The 'Headmaster of the lower school' Mr Danny Coughlan, appeared. I was being pushed in by the scrum. Coughlan screamed at us all to wait for the bell. This was to no avail. What happened next has troubled me ever since. Coughlan was a large man and I was a small child. He punched me as hard as could in the throat. The whole crowd saw. I don't know if you've ever been punched hard in the throat. I wouldn't recommend it. I couldn't breath. I staggered back and collapsed, gasping for air. Mr Coughlan then came down and started kicking me, telling me to get up. To be honest, the kicks didn't bother me. I couldn't breath and I thought I was going to die. I really can't recall what happened next. I don't know if I passed out or had a panic attack. 

My next recollection of the event was that I was up in his office. He told me that if I mentioned the events to a soul, I'd be expelled and no other school would accept a troublemaker like me. I protested that I had done nothing, there was a crowd pushing me. He informed me that if I continued to lie about the event, he would "give me six of the best". He told me that he'd put on my record that I was a liar. I was not the person I am now. I was terrified of him and I thought that no one would believe me. I thought my Dad would clobber me for being naughty. Who would you believe, an eleven year old child or a respected headmaster of the local, prestigious Catholic school? 

Why do I mention this now? Well on Wednesday, I went to Manchester with my son. He is 24 and went to FCHS. I was joking about how much times have changed. His generation never had to endure violence from the teachers. When I thought about it, I realised that even with the climate of corporal punishment at the time, what Coughlan did was extreme. In hindsight, I wish I'd told my parents. I had been the victim of a vicious and unprovoked assault. I spent the two years in the lower school doing my best to avoid Coughlan. I used to get extremely anxious about going to school. It got so bad that by the time I was thirteen, I was seeing a paediatrician and was on valium for anxiety. I had not put the two things together, but I recall the absolute trauma and terror of Coughlan. 

Sadly, I couldn't completely avoid him. He would take RE lesssons. They were bizarre. He'd dictate the lesson and we'd write it down. We'd then hand it in and he'd check that we'd transcribed it word for word. Being dyslexic, I was on the receiving end of his ire. I'd be called thick and an idiot. I wasn't the only one. Bear in mind, most of us were aged 11 and from good Catholic homes (by this I mean, quite young and naive, not that we were better than anyone). The first lesson he gave us, in the first week, he stood up and said "You are all bent!". He then asked if we knew what bent meant. A few of us sniggered. He made one of the sniggerers stand up. He demanded to know what "being bent" meant. At the time, it was a derogatory term usually used in a homophobic manner. The poor lad suggested that Mr Coughlan thought we were gay ( I can't recall the exact words). Coughlan said "No, being bent means you are crooked, you are sinners, you are bent!". He then told us that we were scarred with original sin and would all go to hell, save for the generous intercession of Jesus Christ. 

Now at the time I was an alter server and went to mass twice a week. I'd yet to commit any sins, beyond nicking spare change from my brother's pockets when he was having a drunken lie in and teasing my sister for being spotty. We'd always been told that Jesus was our friend. Mr Coughlan said he wasn't our friend, he was our saviour and none of us were worthy of him. We were just damn lucky we were Catholics. If we were Protestants or any other religion, we'd be doomed. I was quite disturbed. Some of my best mates were Cof E and a couple were Jewish. The thought them and all of their families were going to Hell was terrible. I was lucky, my Dad had a friend who was a retired priest. I asked him if Mr Coughlans theological perspective was correct. I will always respect and thank Fr Traynor for his considered response. He said that according to the second Vatican council, this sort of thinking was completely outdated. It was completely up to God who was allowed in and it wasn't up to us to judge. As Catholics, we knew what we should do to please God, but the concept that there wasn't a non Catholic anywhere who wouldn't be let in was simply absurd. He then explained that some sects like the Jeheovahs Witnesses believe only members go to heaven, but that was an anathema to Catholics. I was grateful such stupidity had been debunked. I wanted to challenge Mr Coughlan but he was a terrifying individual. 

The odd thing was, and I only realised this now, is that I have realised that Coughlan knew he'd totally overstepped the mark with me. Other teachers had witnessed his assault and knew about it. He might have killed me. A couple of times over the next two years, I was up before him for misdemeanors. I fully expected to get the cane, but he never administered it. Everyone else I knew, who did such things was caned. In hindsight, I think Coughlan was worried that if I was caned, the assault may have come out. It was all rather odd. He was most reasonable with me. 

I spoke to my elder brothers about him. They'd gone to Challoner School, where Couglan was headmaster. It was a fee paying Catholic private school. It merged with Finchley Grammar School to form FCHS four years before I joined. Pop Groves, head of FGS became headmaster and Coughlan had been made Headmaster of the Lower School as a sop. He had total autonomy over the first two years. 

When my brothers had been at Challoner, Coughlan had been even more brutal. He'd once caned the whole school as someone had failed to own up for a misdemeanour. It was not about education, it was about brutality. When Coughlan caned a child, he had a ritual, where he put on a cape and ball cap and informed the child that he hate doing it and it was for their own good. I previously wrote a blog about FCHS and got this comment

What a disgusting place that Challoner School was. They knew nothing about nurture and everything about inspiring fear and loathing into our minds. Any joy, or interest, in learning about any subject was squashed. I'm now 70 and still rage at that soulless crow Coughlan and the impact he had on so many young minds. The abuse was daily. There was never a single day where you were greeted with a smile walking into that prison of a school.

I was lucky, I got expelled in my 3rd term. I still don't know why, but thank God for expulsion!

I thought long and hard about writing this blog. I have no doubt that Daniel Coughlan and his regime at Challoner/FCHS damaged a lot of people. I believe that all of the teachers and the administration of the school knew he was dangerous and should not have been let anywhere near young boys. What should have been a pleasant experience that built character and moral fibre, for me and I believe many others, became a game of getting through, counting down the days, until we went to the main school and were free of this idiot. I am sure many didn't have such a bad experience as I had, but I genuinely don't think anyone who saw Coughlan in action would be in any doubt that the man was not fit to be in a school.

I don't want compensations, apologies or a meeting with the school. I just want to put it out there, have my say and fifty years after I was seriously assaulted as a child, let the world know what the man who did it really was.  That will do me.

Just in case you are nostaligic for those days, have a look at this

The Saturday List #455 - My favourite cheapy sweeties of the 1960's

I was feeling a bit nostalgic this week. One of my oldest mates, Gerry, who I went to both St Vincents and FCHS schools with got married. Another old mate from both schools Tony was there. I don't think I've met him since I left FCHS. As my mind went back to St Vincents, I thought of the sweets we used to eat back then. We'd get pocket money and go to the sweet shop and buy a selection of various penny chews etc. It made me think "maybe a list would be in order". So here it is

1. Blackjacks. Can't show a picture as some may get offended, but these were dead cheap and sweet. They had a sort of licorice taste, but a bit sharp and tangy. You'd have one or two in the bag of sweeties.

2. Fruit Salads. These were the other cheap penny chews. Had a fruity, chemically sort of taste. Loved them. You'd usually eat these before the blackjacks.

3. Parma violets. These were purple and had a taste I cannot describe, it was mildly repulsive, but as they were purple, we persevered.

4. Foam Shrimps. These were pink and chewy. They tasted of sugar, not prawn. An odd idea in truth, but we loved them.

5. Flying saucers. These were like the hosts we were given at communion at mass, but stuffed with sugar and sherbet. They were wonderful. Your tongue would fizz as the wrapping dissolved.

6. Lollipops. These were the treat you got if you good in posh restaurants. They were flat and wrapped in sellophane. They were red, orange, yellow and green. If you got the red one, you were in luck. 

7. Gobstoppers. Hard as nails, choking hazard for kids, so banned long before banning things was fashionable. A sort of annaseed taste. My mum wouldn't let me have them, so when I did I felt highly rebellious.

8. Coca Cola bottles. Jelly like consistency, coated in sugar, they didn't taste of cola, but were pleasant enough.

9. Bubble gum balls. Looked like gobstoppers, but soft and chewy. You could blow bubbles if you wanted. My mum also banned these and told me I'd die if I ate them.

10. White Mice. White chocolate. Didn't taste of mouse, didn't taste of chocloate. Sort of sweet and floury. You always thought they'd taste better than they did, but you bought them anyway. 

The death of Woolworths and pick and mix on the High Street sort of ended this culture. Now kids get massive bags of Haribo's, which to me are far less fun, but hey ho, I'm an old fart! When I was a little nipper and I got a shilling a weel pocket money in around 1967, I'd get a couple of each of these. Most were two for a ha'penny. I was trying to remember which was my favourite, it was probably the flying saucers. What were yours?

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Love a bit of nostalgia, here's a song by The False Dots celebrating it

It’s hard to have faith in anything anymore

 Certainty must be a wonderful thing. Sadly, having reached the age of 62, I’m really not certain about anything. I was raised a Roman Catholic, and although I still go to mass, it should be clear to anyone that the men running the church have massively failed us. My own experience of priests has generally been good. As a kid I was an alter server at the Sacred Heart and never had any problems. In fact my memories are pretty good. At FCHS we had a dodgy chaplain, who disappeared fairly quickly after boys reported inappropriate touching. Happily for me, I never had the problem. It is pretty clear that he was simply moved somewhere else and probably carried on. It was ‘never spoken about’. I now find it horrific.You may wonder why I still go? The reasons are complex. I am superstitious and I believe it keeps me lucky to be in with him upstairs. Also I find that having an hours contemplation a week has positive effects on my wellbeing. But most of all, I need something to hold on to in these difficult times. I like the stability of doing the same thing my ancestors did a thousand years ago.

I hear all you cynics, I am in many ways a cynic myself, but one who recognises that there is so much we don’t know and don’t understand that there is room for faith. I am also pretty tribal and feel loyalty, however misplaced to my tribe, however flawed it may be. I feel the same about football.For years, my team Manchester City were rubbish. I felt good being a supporter because it proved I had faith. I have more doubts now they are the best team in the world. I’ve often wondered if Jesus returned in a blaze of triumphal glory, if that would be the moment doubts set in?

I had a twenty year period from 14 to 34 where I identified as atheist, but in truth I was lying to myself as I lacked the  courage to justify the unjustifiable to the world. Not the failings of the Church, I’d never do that, but the idea of believing in something that on the face of it is ridiculous to a non believer. Mostly this was because I’m too thick and inarticulate to do it convincingly. Now my justification is it works for me and that’s all I need’. When I see the likes of Trump supporting Americans, I think they are bonkers, but I get it. They are following a strange gut instinct and it’s not rational. Who am I to criticise? It’s hard to have faith, but sometimes harder not to.

Keir Starmer's Thatcherite policies will destroy Great Britain

 Why has no one else pointed out that the UK has entered a new period of Thatcherism? If you look at the policies of Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves, what we are seeing is a classic Thatcherite squeeze on public finances. Councils up and down the country are being forced to slash all manner of budgets which make our towns, counties and cities great places to live in. Starmer's answer to everything is "£22 Billion black hole".  In Barnet, our council has cancelled the launch of its culture strategy, on the basis that "we shouldn't be spending money on culture when we are cutting vital services". Across the country, it has been made crystal clear that things which urgently need sorting out won't be, unless "there is reform". What is this reform? Many of us suspect that it is code for privatisation and outsourcing. Labour clearly hasn't learned the lessons of Gordon Brown's PFI initiatives that have saddled taxpayers with decades of huge bills. that could have easily been avoided simply by the taxpayer paying for the projects in the first place. 

No one doubts that the UK's finances are in a mess and it is clear that after fourteen years, it is the fault of Tory mismanagement of the economy. The Tories ran out of ideas, so spent most of the last decade arguing with each other. Many of us hoped that Labour would come in and sort things out. Energy companies have made extortionate profits as global prices spiral. How does Labour respond? They take away pensioners fuel allowance. Water companies pump huge amounts of sewage into our rivers, lakes and seaside. What does Labour do? Nothing. These awful companies should be fined and the executives should be held personally liable. If they don't like it, hand the companies over to the the government to run. 

But the fundamental problem with the UK is the fact that we have terrible  productivity in the economy. This can only be fixed by investment and better labour practices. UK firms should be putting pressure on the government to support growth and productivity improvements. FOr generations, UK growth has been driven by immigratuon rather than productivity. I am not anti immigrant, but I am very pro productivity. Unless the UK addresses this issue, we will forever be in the spiral of failure that started with the credit crunch, when our reliance on banking and services was exposed as a failure. 

How can the government do this? It needs fundamental reform of our tax system, our education system and the benefits system. Rachel Reeve is correct that it is ridiculous giving millionaire pnesioners a cash bung for fuel, when families in poverty get nothing. But there is a huge disconnect. The long term solution to poverty is education and economic growth.. Our current system simply fails to deliver this. Thatcherite squeezes on public spending show a complete failure to understand the issue. We aspire to keep young people at school until they are eighteen, but they leave with few useful skills for a life working. We should be funnelling young people into apprenticeships with work placements, developing skills that lead to well paid jobs, from the age of 14 or 15. When I was fourteen, I did a building studoes course. It was one of the few truly useful things I learned. I worked as a decorator for three years when I left school. I am eternally grateful that FCHS offered it for thicko's like me. 

The trouble is that people like Reeve and Starmer look down on people doing manual labour and in trades. They hate the concept of getting their hands dirty. When it comes down to it, that is why the UK is in a mess. Thatcherism is not the answer. People getting their hands dirty and working is. 

Good luck, hard work, success and failure

 Let me tell you the secret of my success (and yes, I am a successful person and I'm not too shy to say it). It is simple, I have extraordinary good luck in my life. I seems that at every turn, I've been blessed. I was blessed with amazing parents, who gave me all the tools to succeed in life. My Dad, a WW2 bomber pilot from Australia drilled it into me that there is no such thing as 'you can't do it'. His mantra was that you look for your chance and you take it with both hands. In my professional career in IT I had the luckiest of breaks. I did a 10 week TOPS Computer operations course. The job I got at the end of it was with SPL International, a top UK software company. It was a briiant environment. All of the other people on the course got humdrum, regimented jobs in large companies operations departments. I got a job where I could do as I please, as long as the work was done. I also got the chance to get into a really lucrative area of IT where I worked as a freelance consultant for a nearly three decades, that enabled me to develop my studio business. The studio business? I was lucky enough to have a Dad who owned commercial property and rented me space and encouraged me to develop the business. My band? Heaven only know how I was so blessed to work with Fil Ross, Graham Ramsey and Tom Hammond in the False Dots (along with a whole bevvy of amazing former members). It certainly isn't because I am talented! We have a blast though. 

As for my personal life. If I hadn't nipped up to the Three Hammers in December 1985 and bumped into a bunch of pretty girls and invited them to our gig there the following week, I wouldn't have a lovely missus and three brilliant kids. Pure luck and chance. But as I said above, there are two parts. My Dad said "look for your chance and take it with both hands". David Grant on BBC Radio London said a really insightful thing at the weekend. He said that you need luck to open the door, but it's hard work that gets you where you want to go. All of the things I've mentioned above come with a huge amount of hard work. When I joined SPL, everyone else my age was a graduate. I had to catch up. I knew nothing about computers. It took me two years grafting, working late, doing private study to catch them up. The studio? When we started to build it up, I was doing 10 hour days in IT, then going to the studio and doing building renovations until 2am some days. When we started, we had no cash so we recovered building materials from skips, stockpiling bricks and timber for the next project. We did the work ourselves. I am a reasonable bricklayer and a good decorator. My business partner Ernie Ferebee was a brilliant plasterer and carpenter. We got mates to do the electrics, in return for free sessions. I have spent Xmas Day building walls at the studio. IT was hard work, but it delivered results. The band? To play guitar in a band requires endless practice and you have to keep it fun to keep the band engaged. We have a mutual support network, which gets us through. As for the family. That has been great, but hard work as well. I am not perfect, neither is my wife. We have to work on it constantly. But it does work. 

And my failures? Yes, I've had loads. Why? Usually because I got lazy and neglected things that were important. Taking your eye off the ball is the biggest mistake of all, but the second biggest mistake is to think you are successful because you are cleverer or better than other people. You have to be humble at all time and keep people onside. Listen to other people, especially those with more experience. You don't always have agree with them or follow their advice, but listen and weigh up what they have to say.  So my advice is be lucky, work hard and be humble. 

Here is one of the fruits of my hard work, that I am rather proud of. We all love a party, by The False Dots

The Sunday Reflection #23 - God gave Rock and Roll to you

I awake this morning with a fuzzy head. Last night, my band, The False Dots did a special free show for our fans at Mill Hill Music Complex. We invited Al Pascal's rcok school along to play with us. Five bands/ solo artists appeared. As most gigs these days are at pubs, there are really limited opportunities for younger musicians to play. So we thought a showcase gig would be great experience. The studio shuts on a Saturday at 6pm. The concept is simple, after the studio's commercial operations cease, we open the doors and let bands play in our lovely studio reception area. We are planning to do it monthly. There is no charge to come and if people want a drink, they bring there own. It is a chance to play and hone your talents. 

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About 80 people turned up for the various artists, many were family. I think all had a great night. We ended with my band, The False Dots. 

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The whole place got up for a boogie at the end. Afterwards, had a chat with a few of the punters who turned up. They loved the concept of the evening. One of my big bugbears is that there is nothing to do for teenagers in Barnet. There are so many talented young people making music, but apart from the odd gig at schools and local festivals, there is nowhere for them to go and hang out. A couple of people said "why don't you get an alcohol licence and make it a regular thing?". We could but then we'd not really be able to do it in the same way. The UK really needs to think the way we provide activities for teenagers. Parents moan that all they ever do is stare at their phone. Is it any wonder when there is nowhere for them to go. At this time of year, when it is warm, you get a few lurking around in parks etc, but that is the extent of the council's provision. 

I'm a big advocate of Rock and Roll music. I've been organising gigs since I was eighteen years old in 1980. There was nowhere to play for us, when the False Dots started, So we booked The Harwood Hall in Mill Hill, invited our mates bands along and put on a gig. It was a roaring success, so we've been doing it ever since. What is really great for me, is the divesity of people coming along these days. I was chatting to a few after and I explained my theory of how life is enganced by music. Unlike sport, religion and just about everything else, no one is right, no one is wrong, there are no winners and no losers. If you don't like an artist or genre, just listen to someone else. If you like it, get grooving. One of the young people, who'd been having a boogie said "I don't normally dance". I asked why? He said "It's not my thing?". I said "You seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight". I then explained that as far as I was concerned, if you enjoy something, do it. Don't worry if someone is better, someone looks cooler or you 'have two left feet'. Let the music guide you. Back in 1973, a band called Argent released a song called  "God gave rock and roll to you". It has one of the best choruses of any rock song, with a great guitar riff. Listening to it now, its a bit too prog rock for my tastes, but the chorus is magnificent. 

It used to be said that Rock and Roll was the music of the devil, but the opposite is true. It is the soundtrack to our lives. Often when rock songs are criticised for being rude, lewd, disrespectful or disgusting, the people who are most offended are the people who most deserve to be offended. My Dad once explained to me that it is always worth understanding the difference between smut (a word we don't hear often these days) and vulgarity. Things that are smutty are theings like Carry on films, Ian Dury Lyrics etc. They are not vulgar, even the start of Plaistow Patricia to me is not vulgar. It is designed to shock and get your attention, buried in there is a serious message "Keep your eyeballs white and keep your needle clean" The message is often overlooked. Dury was a masterful lyricist, there is always something in there that surprises you. If I've learned anything, it is not to jump to quick conclusions. If people act badly, there is usually a reason. This is an observation, not a justification. However if we want to fix our broken society, we need to take a good, long look at the reasons it is broken. Are you part of the problem or part of the solution. I happen to believe that getting young people into music, giving them safe places to express themselves and appreciate what they do is a big part of the solution and in a sane world, Rock and Roll is a big part of that. 

All I can really say is that if I'd not got into music, things would have been very different in my life. 

Here's a small snippet from our show

The Saturday List #454 - The False Dots Set List for MHMC Saturday 14/9/2024 and the story behind all of the songs

Tonight, The False Dots perform at Mill Hill Music Complex. We play a set with songs written in 1979, up to today. Here is the story of the set. 

Wacky Races  - Started life when I was remiscing about the go cart races we used to have as kids in Millway. I then sprinkled a few other tales of our youth in and observed that kids aren't allowed to have fun anymore. It has a slow, dub reggae vibe. 

Bubble Car - I found a picture of my brother Frank in his bubble car in Manchester in 1967 with his mates. I commented that it would make a great album cover. It inspired me to write the song. I wanted a Ska feel, I wanted the song to shout 1968!

We all love a party - Our last Single/video release.  Started life as a reminsence about the parties my parents used to have when we were kids. Always a laugh. Mum always vowed "never again" when they finished. She hated clearing up the debris and the embarrassing incidents. The rest of us loved it. It has become our anthem.

Channelling Ian Dury - Anyone who has heard us will know how central an influence Dury was on our sound. I felt that I should recognise this and tell the story of when I met Ian in Camden town in 1977 when I was fourteen. 

Dave The Roadie (The man who saved the world) - I wanted to pay tribute to all the mates who helped the band over the years. It is based on a lot of people, it's all true, but it's a mish mash of a lot of people I know condensed into a song. it started off being about our original roadies and biggest supporters, Dermot Fanning and Brian Shillibeer, but as I wrote it, the scope changed and widened. It is really as much as people I met in the journey, who helped us or just hung around at some stage. This is the first time we've ever played it live. 

Rambo's Rampage - I love this song, the story of our drummer Graham Rambo Ramsey and how he became a Mod. The song is based on stories he shared, although it is my interpretation and there is artistic license, but it is pretty accurate.

Longshot didn't die  - I wrote this song as a Ska song. I wanted Lee Thompson from Madness and Jenny Bellstar to to sing it. I played it to Lee and he said "Why don't you sing it yourself? I'd not thought of it. It is perhaps the starting point for the post 2022 sound of The False Dots. It is a re-imagination of what the true story of the Pioneers Ska hit from 1968 was. I love the song. 

Don't be scared of a finger up the bum -  An impassioned plea to my mates and men everywhere to get a prostate check. It is a fun song, with a serious message.

Buy Me a Bottle of Jack -  A song about dark, suicidal thoughts, prompted by my struggle with prostate cancer and facing up to the life changing effects I've had,  but told with a very dark humour. After I drafted it, I gave the subject some more thought. Three times in my life, I've seriously thought about ending it all. Each time, something has made me laugh, something very dark, but it pulled me back from the brink. There is an absolute plague of young people killing themselves, our Graham's son being one. We need to talk about it. When I have a dark music, I sing myself the song in my head.

The Burnt Oak Boogie -  I wrote this for a laugh. I went to Orange Hill School, we used to bunk off out and go for a cup of tea at The Betta Cafe on Watling Avenue. Somethimes, I'd nip arround to my surrogate Grandma, Annie O'Keef'e's place on Homefield Road for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. A lovely old Irish lady, married to a caretaker called Joe. The Burnt Oak I knew has disappeared. I miss them and I miss the old days.

Sunday in the 70's - I was a teenager in the 1970's, it formed me. This song is a love song to those days. 

Sci Fi Girls - I used to be obsessed with TV Sci Fi series UFO and I liked Dr Who until Tom Baker took over. This song is all about this pre teenage obsession. 

Not all She Seems - All of the other songs up to now are (relatively) new. This one was written in 1979. The guitar lick was donated to us by Hank Marvin of The Shadows. His son Paul was our drummer for six months in 1980. It is about a transsexual prostitue on the run from a pimp and a Tory MP who is besotted with her. Like many False Dots songs, it is a true story, with a bit of artistic license. We wrote it very sympathetically. Pete Conway co wrote it. We wanted to write a song telling the story of someone at the margins, abused by everyone. I am amazed we did so good a job as sixteen year olds.

Action Shock -  This was written in 1982. A mate was a Marine in the Falklands. I saw him six months after he came back. He was a mess, suffering from bad PTSD and was really unpleasant. Six or seven years later, I met him again. He was back to himself. He told me that he'd been to Nepal and spent three years up a mountain smoking dope. He was back to normal. I feel that I should write a follow up, but I've failed to get the right vibe and given up every time I've tried. It was written as a punk thrash. We never played it. When Venessa Sagoe joined in 1983, she insisted we play it. It has been a highlight ever since. It stubbonly refuses to die.