We are now half way through January. We've been in lockdown for ten days. The weather has been miserable, we are cut of from friends and family. I ssupport these restrictions and believe we are where we are because the government has repeatedly been too slow off the mark. But now we have a way out. Two million people have been vaccinated and the rates of infection (in London) are starting to fall. We are not out of the woods as the number of people being hospitalised is still rising and the number of daily deaths is appalling. Given that we've been in this situation for almost a year and all of the finest brains in the nation are focussed on the crisis, it is time we saw some proper leadership from Boris.
What we need is a clear plan to leave this cycle of lockdowns, restrictions and pain behind us. I am not asking for a timetable. It would be foolish in the extreme to publish this at the moment, but there is every reason to publish a roadmap. I believe that this will encourage people to comply and to get vaccinated.
There are several questions I have. The first is whether we need restrictions once everyone who is vulnerable has been vaccinated (or has had the chance to be vaccinated as some will simply refuse). Given that the mortality rate for covid is 1-2% and 99% of these are people who can be identified as vulnerable, with 2 million people vaccinated, we must be nearing the point where we can say they are safe. Getting the most vulnerable vaccinated is a key milestone. Boris needs to say exactly what his criteria for achieiving this is.
It is also clear that the biggest risk now is further mutations, especially ones that make the virus vaccine resistant. Boris needs to say what the rate of infection in the community has to be where we can see a loosening of restrictions.
The third aspect is hospitals. These are currently overloaded, we need Boris to say what constitutes the NHS not being overstretched is defined as. As far as I can see, when the vulnerable are vaccinated, the rate has dropped and hospitals are not overstretched, then there is no reason to be in lockdown. Normal life can start to resume, albiet with sensible precautions.
Whether my criteria are correct or incorrect, Boris should know what the criteria are. He should give us the roadmap and tell us that the more strictly we adhere to the current lockdown, the sooner he criteria will be met. This would encourage us all to do what we should be doing. If we could see the light at the end of the tunnel, I believe we would act like adults and do what we need to do.
It is time for Boris to do what he should of done all along. Work out how we move on from this mess and tell us his plan.
Sadly some of us are not quite old enough to qualify for a free bus pass this year. There are many things about getting older that I don't look forward to, but getting a free bus pass is not one of them. Margaret Thatcher once saidthat any man over 30 on a bus is a failure, but I beg to differ. I enjoy using Londons buses. I got this love from my mother. I well remember when she got hers. Although she was not thrilled with becoming a pensioner, she'd worked all of her life and she felt that the free bus pass was fair reward for her years of paying tax and made good use of it.
My Father would not dream of taking a bus everywhere, but mum loved London buses, insisting that the view from the top of a Routemaster was the best view in the world. It became her thing that every Tuesday, she'd set off on an expidition. I was working in central London at the time and she'd often arrive at reception of the office and summon me to buy her lunch. I worked in various offices, on Windmill St, on Piccadilly, on Lower Thames Street to name a few. She'd take me around the pubs and tell me stories of these haunts in the war. When I was working in Windmill Street, she was shocked when I suggested lunch in The Fitzroy Tavern. She explained that during the war, this was notorious for 'artistic types'. She said that she'd been in their once as a very young, naive girl and was delighted when all of the characters made a big fuss of her. She was less than impressed when she realised that they were making even more fuss of the big burly American who she was with. Apparently the poor lad was a country lad who was most confused. He blotted his copybook by insulting London after they departed, a place my mother loved with a passion. Fortunately for me, that was the end of that!
When I worked at no 100 Pall Mall, she was most impressed, declaring that I had finally made it. We had afternoon tea at Simpsons. When I moved to Lower Thames Street, she insisted I met her at Lombard St, she wanted to see the old head office of Barclays Bank, where she had worked during the war on the Switchboard. Armed with the letter she received from the chairman that she was given when she left, she made her way to reception and asked if she could have a look around. A very nice manager gave her a little our. She was a tad disappointed at how it had changed, but told me that is London, you blink and it's reinvented itself.
My mothers favourite bus was the 113. This would take you from Mill Hill to the West End. She knew all of the routes and would spend the week planning her itinery. Her favourite time of year was the January Sales. She'd often buy next years Xmas presents at these. Arriving back home from the bus with large bags of shopping. My Dad would say "Why don't you just let me drive you up there?". She would say "why waste the petrol when I have a bus pass". One day I asked Dad why he didn't go with her. He replied "I didn't work for 45 years to get the bloody bus". My father would drive everywhere, even from our house to the Church, which was less than 1/4 of a mile. He loved cars and hated public transport. After he died in 1987, I discussed this with my Mum. She explained that she would have hated him coming along. He'd have moaned the whole time and hated shopping. She said that whilst she was on the bus, she was in another world.
I was fascinated when she told me about the war. She worked briefly in a Drapers in Regent Street. She had a cold and took a day off. It had been bombed, killing everyone. She said her Guardian Angel had been watching over her that day. She showed me the site. You can see, if you look up, that the style of building is different. She had other idiosyncricies. She'd get the bus to Burnt Oak as the mushrooms were cheaper. She liked Burnt Oak as the family had lived there during and after the war. When I was small she knew all of the shopkeepers and we were all registered at the Watling Medical practice. The market was a place she loved. She would buy us all toys for Xmas there. My father was less keen. When he'd been in a Rumanian prisoner of war camp in 1944 he'd written to my mother saying it was lovely, just like Burnt Oak.
Mum had buses she liked, as well as the 113, she rather liked the 140. When we were small, she'd take us on it to Heathrow to look at planes. It was her bus of choice to Burnt Oak. She disliked the 52, as although it went to Burnt Oak, it went a more circuitous route. She liked the 251 as she would take visitors to the Rising Sun for a beer on it, when Dad was not around. Before she got the buspass, she'd also like the Green Line buses as these were far quicker, with less stops. This was always a 'treat'. I recall her getting the 717 to St Johns Wood for hospital appointments when she had cancer. Although Green Line buses used the same fleet as London Transport, if felt totally different being on one. The stop was by Daws Lane.
My mum felt that London buses were not the same when the conductor was dispensed with. She always said that a conductor made 'ladies feel safe'. I used to think it terribly old fashioned and twee, but now I have come to believe that she was right. Guards on trains and conductors on buses make a huge difference for people with access issues or who are just nervous. She was of the opinion that the people who abolished them were neither female or regular users. There is a misguided view that CCTV can do the same job. It can't. A conductor will spot trouble and will deal with it. CCTV simply means that when the deed has been done, someone can review it.
If you are approaching the official start of codgerdom and get a buspass this year, don't despair. There is a world out there awaiting you. Hopefully, it will be safe enough to venture out when you get your pass, embrace the pipe and slippers when you get the opportunity. I know I will when I get there!
There are many of us who have time on our hands during the current period of lockdown. I should imagine that I am not alone in finding myself going for a stroll to pass the time, we are lucky that Mill Hill still has many nice open spaces. I happened to bump into Roger in Lyndhurst Park the other day, whilst he was walking his dog. We had a brief chat and looking at the old bridge over the disused rail line, I commented that I remembered the joy of standing on the bridge on Bunns Lane as a child, watching as the steam engines went under. My father would lift me up onto the wall and as the engine passed underneath, I'd be engulfed in the steam. It seemed very exciting at the time. It always seems very sad to me that the railway line is abandoned and that Bridge is now bricked up. Roger suggested that as I have some time on their hands, I might like to put together another blog of my reminiscences.
Mill Hill was a lovely place to grow up in the 1940's and 50's. There was a real sense of local community, people didn't lock doors. Children would play in the street. There were no cars and few other vehicles on the roads, apart from buses and the occasional coal delivery lorry and the such like. What we now call Arrendene was more widely known as 'The Donkey fields" as the army had used the space for grazing animals used in transportation during the war. It would be hard for anyone born more recently to understand just how important and significant the military was locally. Hendon Aerodrome (now Grahame Park) was an active RAF base and the Inglis Barracks (now Millbrook Park) was the home of the Middlesex Regiment and later the Royal Engineers.
As a boy, Mill Hill seemed full of people in uniforms, both army and airmen. Having an RAF base nearby was magical, watching planes land and take off was always a good way to while away the time. Sunny Hill Park was a great venue for this. Even more exciting was to watch the annula Hendon Air Show and then see it at the cinema on the Pathe News!
I think every young boy in the area was fascinated by the airfield and the show. Nowadays I'd love to see the first world war biplanes in the air, but back then all we wanted to see were the fast jets. It really was a very spectacular event. Another constant source of fascination was the anti aircraft guns at the back of the Sea Scouts centre on Daws Lane. These lasted well into the 1970's.
Mill Hill smelled very different in that bygone era, especially in Winter. Coal was king. These days, if we are cold, we simply turn up the heating. My memories of growing up are memories of being cold and gathering around coal fires to warm up in the living room, or around the stove in the kitchen. One of the lessons of the day was that there is a cost to being warm. As kids, we'd be despatched to collect coal from the merchant at Mill Hill East. We had an old pram that we'd load up. You could get the coalman to deliver, but this cost money, so when times were hard, you'd collect it from the depot, for us this was by the gas works in Mill Hill East. If there was a sudden cold spell and you ran out of coal, then you faced a long walk, usually in the rain or snow to get a top up. Coal cost money, so it was only burned when it needed to be burned. Newspapers were used to get the fire going, I am sure that for many, this was the reason that they were bought. Often we'd head out to collect twigs and wood to use as firelighters, sometimes neighbours would pay us a few pennies for this. The fire lighters and coal would be stored in the coal bunker in the garden. When the weather turned cold (and I do mean cold), we'd light the fire. You could tell that it was frosty as the air would smell of coal fires. For me this was one of my favourite smells, it meant you miay actually get to warm up when you got in.
I don't think people really understand the dynamics of being cold and warm anymore. When it was really cold, if we were lucky, mum would make a hot water bottle. This was perhaps the best treat, apart from being given sweets, that we could have. We only had one, so it would be put in your bed for five minutes before you got in, to take off the chill. If you had a cold or the flu, you'd get it for a bit longer with it. Most of the time, when you were cold, you'd simply put on a coat or jumper. There was no TV, we'd listen to the radio or read books. Just as coal cost money and its use was strictly rationed, so was electricity. It was metered. As a small boy, it was a treat to be allowed to put a shilling in the meter. Lights were only to be turned on and off when they were needed. We had a small electric fire 'just in case', but I don't recall it ever being switched on.
If you had got cold on the way home from school and mum was feeling generous, you'd get a drink of Oxo or Bovril. It wasn't so much the taste that you loved, it was the fact that it warmed you up. Bovril was on sale at football grounds long after it had disappeared from our pantries, as we all know it is the only way to warm up. The smell of Bovril when you are frozen is perhaps one of the most reassuring of all.
Another smell that reminds me of those days are autumnal bonfires. As soon as leaves started falling, everyone would light bonfires. As children, we'd be fascinated by these. There were no green bins back then. The down side of all of this buring was the smog. London was notorious for this. Late Autumn/early winter was smog season. I can remember being sent out to get some coal from the bunker in 1952 and getting lost in the garden, unable to see more than a foot in any direction, I can remember being completely disorientated and terrified. The rest of the family thought it was hilarious. For years, when I was sent for coal, there would be a joke about sending the search party out if I wasn't back in five minutes. People really did get lost in the fog. One local, making his way back from the Royal Engineer pub after a swift pint after work, got lost for three hours, found himself back at the pub for last orders. That was his story anyway and it was one my dad would often tell with a twinkle in his eye.
Another thing we loved was fishing. Young boys knew every piece of water in the locality. You would start off with a small net and a jam jar catching tiddlers and tadpoles in Angel Pond at the top of Milespit Hill. The tadpoles would be taken home and kept in bowls, where we'd watch with fascination as they grew arms and legs and the tails disappeared. When I was eight or nine, after much nagging, I persuaded my mum to let me make a small pond out of some tarpaulin. This was at the bottom of the garden, as far from the house as possible. I filled it with water and collected a fine array of tadpoles. I was horrified to see that the local bird population found that it was a very tasty array of snacks. In those days, we'd see Sparrows, Blackbirds, Starlings and Tits in the garden. If we were lucky, we'd see a Thrush. There was lovely Irish lady next door who would put bread out and get very cross as the Starlings guzzled it all.
We graduated from Angel Pond to Moat Mount (there's some great images of Scratch Wood, Moat Mount and Mill Hill here here). My mum didn't like me going up there, as there had been a murder there during the war and she thought it dangerous. There was also spots on Scratchwoods and Mill Hill Golf course that had water with fish in, although you would get chased off the golf course straight away. We always resented the fact that we were never allowed to go fishing anywhere that there was actually something decent to catch.
As we grew up, and we got more serious about the fishing. There were some lovely carp in Darlands lake. Another place we loved was the big pond on Stanmore common, that reputedly had a large Pike, although we never saw sight nor sound of it. We'd also sneak in to the grounds of Mill Hill School and try and fish their lake, but invariably get caught and turfed out.
One of the things we didn't really do at all was holidays. I have vivid memories of mum and dad telling us we were going on a holiday to the seaside. Sandwiches were made, possibly even flasks of tea. We made our way to Mill Hill Broadway Station and boarded a train heading south. This was the first time I'd ever been on a train. I must have been about six. It was exciting. The train was packed, we found a compartment with a couple of seats. Chidlren were expected to sit on adults knees or on the floor. We were told that it was a very special train and it was going to the seaside. The journey seemed to take hours. Eventually we arrived at Southend on sea. I was given a shilling to enjoy myself. It seemed like a lot of money. We went to the pier, we played on the machines, where you could put a farthing in and if you were lucky a few coins would fall down. I soon learned to watch for people who had put all their cash in and where there were farthings overhanging. I loved Southend. The sun shined and everyone seemed so happy. As a treat, we had a bag of chips. All too quickly, we had to make our way back to the train and return to Mill Hill. Whilst the journey there had taken hours, I fell asleep on the way back and we seemed to arrive back in Mill Hill in a jiffy. The sun was just going down as we made our way home. Back then, there were no shops open in Mill Hill Broadway after 5pm and none at all on a Sunday. At the time it was the latest I'd ever been out and about in Mill Hill Broadway. I'd only seen it when the shops were open. It was like a ghost town. You just don't see Mill Hill Broadway like that ever these days. I think that day had been the happiest of my life and to this day, I've always had a love of Southend. I took my grandchildren there when they were smaller and they too loved the pier and the slot machines, much to my daughter in law's horror!
My final reminiscence is about something that has gone terribly out of fashion. That is smoking. When I was growing up, everyone smoked. When people visited, the first thing they would do would be to light up. This fascinated me. When I was about five I acquired a set of Players cigarette cards at a jumble sale. These were in an old battered tobacco tin and were my pride and joy.
There was an eclectic selection. Oneof my favourite was the Hereford bull card. This magnificent fellow seemed far more impressive than any of the local bulls we'd see in the various farms around Mill Hill. To this day, if I hear the word Hereford, I think Bull. It just shows what an impression such things can make. Sadly such cards were banned by the Govt in 1940, as they were seen as wasteful. After rationing was lifted, we could by sweet cigarettes. I guess these are what we now call gateway drugs.
Smoking had its own hierarchy. Posh ladies would smoke with cigarette holders, to stop their fingers going yellow. The less well off favoured hand rolled tobacco, the flashy fellow who lived in the posh house in Parkside owned a Jag and smoked cigars. My dad always called him 'the spiv'. Old men smoked pipes, which fascinated me. Ted down the road who'd been in the Navy smoked Capstan full strength. Having bought my tin of cards, I became fascinated with tobacco tins and started to acquire a collection of such things. In 1958, I suddenly fell out of love with smoking. I was too young to smoke, but had had a few puffs with the older boys in the park, they would egg on the younger kids and snigger as we choked on the smoke. I would probably have started, but my uncle became ill and died of lung cancer. Mum told me that it was caused by his heavy smoking. At the time, there was little talk of the risks of smoking, so I have often wondered whether she'd just said that to put me off. It certainly worked. He'd been a war hero and was a great man. Seeing him stricken and laid low, gasping for breath made a huge impression on me. I vowed never to smoke. I later swapped the cigarette cards for a bicycle pump. A truly awful investment, as they would now be worth several hundred pounds. Perhaps the saddest aspect of his passing was that he was a keen allotment holder, with a plot at Lawrence Street. I used to help him out with digging and pruning. When food was scarce, he would have rhubarb, loganberries, raspeberries and gooseberries. He grew vegetables as well, but I remember the fruits as they were always a proper treat, especially when there was still rationing. He taught me much about nature, how ladybirds eat greenfly, how you
plough sideways, not up and down, so the topsoil isn't washed away. How
you save your potato peelings and make compost. How you plant flowers to
attract bees.
Mum always said that my Uncle kept the allotments going and having recently read up on the history, this may well be true. Sadly, we lived on the other side of Mill Hill, so we couldn't keep the plot. Clearing out his small shed was one of the saddest days of my life. We found all manner of strange things, he would often sit in the shed and read. One of the things which stuck with me was a pile of half read books with page markers. I can remember him telling me that if he thought a book was heading for a sad ending, he'd put it down, he'd seen enough heartbreak in the war. He once told me about how, when he'd been in France in the second world war, he'd found himself in a recenltly liberated barn, exhausted, having been separated from his unit. Falling asleep on a haystack, he was awoken by a French farmer. The farmer thought he was a German and was keeping him at bay with a pitchfork. Realising that the farmer didn't like Germans, he used his schoolboy french to say "Anglais Monsieur" and showing his badge. The farmer put down the pitchfork and signalled for him to follow him. He was taken to the farmhouse and given a slap up meal, with a glass of the finest cognac. The farmer told him that he'd buried the cognac when the Germans had invaded and was saving it for the first soldier to liberate him. He gave the bottle to my Uncle, which was most welcome. He'd kept it safe until VE day, telling me he wanted to savour it properly. He kept the empty bottle in the shed. Mum told me to throw it away, but I've still got it.
When I was growing up, Mill Hill was full of people who had served in the forces, such stories were ten a penny in Mill Hills pubs and clubs. That generation is now all gone. Perhaps that is what I miss most.
Richard Wilkinson is a long time Mill Hill resident. Guest blogs are always welcome at The Barnet Eye. Richard also runs the https://millhillbroadway.org/ website which provides information about Mill Hill's shops and services for locals and visitors to the area.
Firstly, if you've not read my cancer blogs before, the story so far is in bold at the bottom, it may give you the full context if you read this first. For those of you that know the story, read on.
I have a dilemma. I am supposed to have a six monthly PSA test to monitor my PSA levels. This involves getting a blood test form from my GP, going to a blood test centre and having a test. This should flag up if there is any sudden change that would require a more urgent intervention than the planned annual check up that I have following HiFU in early 2015. The problem? Well the last PSA test I had was in April at the height of the last covid peak. Due to the issues with the NHS pressures, I had this at the Royal Free Hospital. I have to say that I did not enjoy the experience at all. Of all the things I did during lockdown, this was by far the most risky. Now, with a higher peak and a more virulent strain, I feel even less inclined to take the risk. I really don't want to go to a hospital, or anywhere else for that matter, where there is likely to be people who have covid and who I may be in the company of. I doubt that I am the only person in and 'active surveillance programme' who is in this position. Like all people living with a serious, progressive condition, it is a question of weighing up the risks and balances. I have had no physical changes, so I feel that the risk is relatively low if I defer for a couple of months.
Although there has been lots of talk about NHS pressures, I didn't see any evidence of this at the MacMillan centre at UCH in May when I had my last MRI scan and my last consultation. As a specialist centre, they are ring fenced from the regular pressures. Of course, if a covid infection gets in, this could be catastrophic, so my consult was by phone. I am hopeful that by May, the next MRI will be in more normal times. I am aware that at some point there is the possibility that more medical intervention is likely, but I can only hope that this will be a few years down the line at the very least. This year will be six years since the HiFU treatment and the fact I've had a completely normal life in that time has, to me at least, vindicated the decision to go for HiFU instead of a radical prostatectomy, with all the side effects that entails.
The recent situation has given me pause for thought. I feel that I am actually in a far better place to deal with the current crisis than many. I've already done the business of coming to terms with my mortality. I am at peace with the world. I am very lucky in the friends that I've had to support me. One gave me a copy of the most amazing book that has massively helped me deal with my issues. It is called "Anti Cancer a new way of life" and it was written by a medical professional dealing with a terminal brain cancer. It looks at all elements of lifestyle and diet, with a view to improving your body holistically to deal with the challenge. It doesn't focus on miracle cures, but more with giving yourself the best chances, within the constraints of a science and medicine based approach.
One of the key takeaways I learned was that you really need to remove negativity from your life. For me this means avoiding excesively dark and violent TV, films and other media. It's why I block Trolls and negative people on social media. I find the more I ignore such negativity, the better I feel and the lower my stress levels are. Some of my friends still get upset about the negative bile some people constantl;y spout about me on social media. I recognised long ago that much of this is simple jealousy of people with little in their lives to actually crow about. It is not worth letting people with negative agenda's drag you down. I had assumed that if you ignore such people, eventually they go away. The last few years have taught me that social media is not like that. Malicious people are often so entrenched in their negativity that it is their only reason to exist. Occasionally I will get a message with a screen shot from a well meaning friend saying "have you seen this?". Generally there is a rathe facile Fcebook post or Twitter message, clearly posted in the hope that it will make its way to me. Perhaps five years ago these may have bothered me, but these days I just snigger and carry on watching the football or the paint dry. The less of this negativity you have, the better you will feel and the better you feel, the strong your body's natural defences against disease will be. Don't let negativity drag you down.
My advice to you when you get enraged by something on social media is simple. Do not instantly respond. Listen to some uplifting music and chill. There is absolutely no reason why instant responses are required. When you are no longer angry, think whether it is actually worth responding and what might you achieve. The sad truth is that you cannot argue with stupid. For anonymous trolls in twitter, the decision should be easy, just block them. When it is family members and friends, it is harder. Think of the bigger picture. If someone is going off on one, just post a neutral and respectful response. Say something along the lines "With all respect, I fundamentally disagree with you, but I recognise that we are all entitled to our opinions. On this matter we may all be happier if we didn't share them here as my friends/family are important to me and I don't wish to fall out with them over this issue, as we will hopefully all be here in five years time when this isue will be a matter of history".
As I stated at the start of this blog, I am finding this crisis far easier to cope with than I would have expected, or than I would before. My journey has given me tools in the toolkit of life that are well suited to this situation. Reducing stress, managing anger and learning to relax is a really important skill set to have right now.
Tensions are inevitably raised at times in our household by the situation, we have three children in their early twenties at home, two of whom who would rather be travelling and one who is doing Uni exams. I have learned that when people upset me, it is often because they have their own demons to fight. Often when people are at there most difficult, it is because they are most in need of support. Kindness is a far better reaction than anger. Don't get me wrong, I fall down on this all of the time, but the secret is to learn that when you fall you get back up. Anger clouds our judgement, we should never make important decisions when we are angry. Loosing your rag and shouting things achieves nothing. Step away, calm down and try and be reasonable. It doesn't always work, but it works far better than the alternative, which generally results in rash decisions that you come to regret.
The bottom line is that the less negativity you have in your life, the better you will be able to cope with the challenges that face you and the easier it will be for those who love you to support you.
---- For those of you who are regular readers and have read the previous posts on Cancer, there's what this is all about. I write this blog because knowledge is power and if you know what you are dealing with, you have more weapons in the locker to fight it. It is a personal view, I'm not medically qualified. This is for the sole purpose of information for those who are interested.This is the latest installment in my occasional series about how I'm adjusting to living with a big C in my life. For those of you who aren't, here's a quick summary. I'm 54years old and in October 2011 I had a prostate biopsy following two "slightly high" PSA tests - 2.8 & 4.1. The biopsy took ten tissue samples and one of these showed a "low grade cancer" which gave me a 3+3 on the Gleason scale. I was put on a program of active monitoring. In early February, I got the results of the a PSA test - down to 3.5 and an MRI scan which found absolutely nothing, two more tests in 2012 were at 3.5 and 3.9, in 2013 my test was 4.0, Jan 2014 was 3.8, August 2014 was 4.0, February 2015 it was up to 5.5 and my latest in August 2015 was down again at 4.6. In October 2015 I had a transperinial Prostate biopsy, that revealed higher grade cancer and my Gleason score was raised to 3+4 (Small mass + more aggressive cancer). On 22nd Jan 2016 I had HIFU (Hi Intensity Focused Ultrasound) treatment at UCHL). My post procedure PSA in May was 4.0 which was down, followed by 3.7 in August, and 3.5 in October which means that the direction is positive . However in January the follow up MRI revealed "something unusual which requires investigation" After a follow up biopsy, it appeared this was nothing to worry about. My two most recent PSA tests were Ok (3.7 and 4.6) and an MRI scan in March was very positive. A PSA in October 2019 was 4.6, so stable and good news, the last in May 2020 was 5.45 a small rise, so worrying, however after a review against the most recent MRI, it was decided that this was fine. I've no symptoms apart from needing to wee quite regularly and sadly for a few people, if I'm gonna die soon, it won't be from Prostate cancer. Got the picture?
It has been a hard week for us citizens of the Borough of Barnet. A new lockdown, freezing cold weather, atrocious happenings in the USA, inspired by a discredited President who has shown that he cares for nothing but his own vanity. For me the situation was rammed home to learn that my beloved cousin Tessie, who is six months younger than me, has covid and is in intensive care in the Royal Free. This is not one of my tweet picks, but I am overwhelmed by the kindness of all those of you who responded both privately and publicly to this tweet. I just wanted to say thank you before I started with the selection this week
My cousin Tessie is 4 months younger than me. She’s in the Royal Free with Covid. I’m not in the mood to deal with anti Vaxxers & Covid deniers right now, so if I see any of that shit here I’ll block you. This blog has a lovely pic of Tessie & I in France https://t.co/72hJEiScoQ
— Roger Tichborne/RogT #CTID 🏴☠️🇬🇧 (@Barneteye) January 7, 2021
And so on to our selection. Despite the gloom, there have been some rather nice tweets. Thanks to all of you who work so hard to keep our spirits up by posting such great Tweets. I hope these brighten up your Sunday.
1. There really could only be one place to start this week. Mark Amies, on his @time_NW account, has published some amazing clips taken from the iconic series Budgie, filmed in Mill Hill. It was great to see footage of the Broadway. I remember seeing this being filmed as I returned from St Vincents school as an 8 year old. It was very exciting. I loved seeing the front of the New China Garden restaurant, which I loved as a kid. This morphed into The Moon House, then Hee's takeaway, and is now a (closed) spa
One for fans of Mill Hill, and 'Budgie'. Here were see Adam Faith's character climbing off the M1, and down onto the Broadway, pursued by John Rhys Davies, in the 1972 episode, 'Our Story So Far..' (ep5, S2). Filmed before the Budgens supermarket, (now M&S Food Hall) was built. pic.twitter.com/ayRzxEYsb3
2. A double dose from two of our best loved local accounts. A nice pic from our unofficial local nature corresepondent Samuel Levy and some great pre murmation action in Burnt Oak from Donald Lyven. Nice work chaps!
Burnt Oak in autumn often sees a little murmuaration action; & there's still house sparrows around in certain roads there, where hedges remain. The starlings sit on roofs or in trees and when disturbed wheel around in a great flock. pic.twitter.com/VijM9rKFs6
3. Barnet has a new blogger, who tells how he got into music.
https://t.co/RjbDkFxFvG This blog post is a “must read” blog. Blog about my original music & how I came up with nickname after started to make music of my own. If you are interested, read my blog about it. 🎵🎶🙂🎸
4. These guys do great work. If you have anything to spare, please consider a donation. My wifes mothers best friend was cared for by them in her final days and I cannot praise them highly enough
5. An interesting tweet from the the Mill Hill historical society. A rather interesting gravestond in St Mary's cemetery
The quirky gravestone of Robert Thomas Crossfield at St Mary's churchyard in Hendon, in 1796 he was tried for High Treason for his part in the "Popgun plot" to assassinate George III with a poison dart. He was acquitted. pic.twitter.com/h0u6XB4Eey
7. It is only right and proper that we mourn the passing of Dame Barbara Windsor, long time resident of the Borough and a hero to us all, buried in Golders Green. An icon. RIP Barbara
Something I'll always treasure ♥ My signed picture from the most wonderful Dame to ever grace our screens - Dame Barbara will be laid to rest at 2pm today at Golders Green Crematorium all my thoughts are with Scott , her family and friends 🥺😢 pic.twitter.com/uuINmEPDXZ
8. Some nice pictures of a rather picturesque looking Mill Hill in the winter sunshine, from our friends at A Better Mill Hill
Had an amazing walk around Mill Hill yesterday, views from the school fields, Arrendene and Mill Hill park. A very pleasant stroll pic.twitter.com/k2LlnpI8Za
9. You can see what is possibly Londons oldest tree in Totterige. Thanks to @Kekhmet
I love trees too much to have 1 favorite, but over the summer I had the honor of being in the presence of the most Ancient Tree of London. The yew in the churchyard of St Andrew's in Totteridge may be as much as 2000 years old. pic.twitter.com/zTQ9T9Fnaf
Have you been watching the rather good series The Serpent on the BBC? As I watched it, I was realised that I was familiar with the story. My former business partner, sadly deceased, Ernie Ferebee used to drive buses overland from London to India in the 1970's for a company called Budget Bus. I also worked for the company owner, Emil Bryden. I remembered one of them telling me the story of their dealings with Charles Sobhraj. With my interest peaked, I rang Emil who now lives in Norfolk to ask to refresh me on the details. As he told the fascinating story, I realised that this wasn't the only obscure connection I had to the world of rather bad people. So here's the list.
1. Charles Sobhraj. My former boss, Emil owned Budget Bus. One of his buses did a trip up to Nepal. This was the bus that had the two unfortunate back packers who were murdered by Sobhraj and who he is currently in jail for killing. The driver had the unfortunate experience of having to identify the bodies and then report back to Emil to contact the families. By a rather unfortunate coincidence, the same driver overstayed his visa later. He ended up sharing a cell for six weeks with Sobhraj. Being stuck in a cell with a serial killer terrified him and apparently he didn't sleep a wink for the whole period. I recall Ernie telling me more details, but sadly as he's no longer around, I cannot verify them. Whilst researching this blog, I came across a fascinating blog detailing some of the events around this. I got to know Emil and Ernie as they had a depot servicing the buses they used in what is now the Flower Lane industrial estate. The bus you'll see in this blog I regularly saw in Mill Hill and I used to help Emil and Ernie fix them up.
2. Dennis Nilsen. Another serial killer, closer to home. When he was arrested and the news broke, I was shocked to learn from my cousin that he'd worked in the Maida Vale job centre with him. It was my cousins first proper job. Sadly (or perhaps fortunately) there were no dodgy stories or insights, although he did say that it was quite strange thinking a serial killer used to make you a cup of tea in the morning. Given that Nilsen used to pick up young men and murder them, I recall that we teased my cousin that he was too ugly to be murdered. I daresay he wasn't too upset at that fact.
3. Martin Clark. You probably haven't heard of this chap. He was my next door neighbour. A burly scouser, who ran a building company. To say I didn't get on with him is a mild understatement. I had a pile of bricks I'd acquired to build a barbeque. One day, I noticed that half of them had disappeared. I was mildly irritated. This became a major irritation when I noticed that they were piled, almost out view hidden behind my neighbours shed. As I perused this irritating act or petty theft, Mr Clark appeared. A full blown row ensued. He denied that he'd stolen them and said he'd acquired them elsewhere. They were quite identifiable as they had come from a chimney and were soot stained. In the end he agreed to return them, but after that our relationship was very frosty. Then he disappeared. I was quite pleased as he was a bully. He'd threatened several elderly neighbours, who he suspected of reporting him to the council for building infringements. He once accused me, but I told him that if I had a problem with him, I'd tell him to his face and that he should wind in his attitude. After he disappeared, it became clear that his house was under observation. An old dear up the road noticed a car with two people keeping an eye on the property. I told her I'd check it out with the Police. They informed me that it was part of an undercover operation and not to worry (they didn't say what). I told the old dear, who promptly brought them a tray of tea and biscuits (not good for a discrete operation). A few weeks later it became clear who they were keeping an eye on. A retired postman up the road excitedly showed me the front page of The Sun. It had Mr Clark on the front cover, described as Britians most wanted man. It stated he was a contract killer and he'd done a bunk to Spain with his solicitor. If I'd known I'd have let him have the bricks!
4. Jonathan Kern. Mr Kern was a local Edgware lad and one of Britains finest conmen. He was also a customer of my Dad's crash repair business. I may be mistaken in some of the details here, as my Father died in 1987, but Mr Kern had a lot of work done on his car and departed without paying, giving a promise. As my Dad knew his father, who I believe was a well respected local Doctor, my Dad was rather upset. Rather embarrassed, he contacted Mr Kern's father. As a decent guy, he paid for the repair, but told my father that his son was not to be trusted and if it happened again, he wouldn't pick up the bill. Mr Kern lived the life of a playboy, persuading sports car dealers to give him cars to test, claiming to be a journalist. He'd then disappear, travelling around Europe, seducing beautiful women and staying in top hotels, without ever paying the bill. Compared to the others, he's actually quite a nice bloke.
5. The Kray Brothers. This is an amusing tale (although not so much at the time). Graham Ramsey, the drummer in the False Dots called me back in around 1988 in a state of high excitement. He wanted to book some studio time for a band he'd been asked to drum for and they'd got a record deal. I was really pleased for Graham as he's a great guy. After Grahams first rehearsal, we all went for a beer. The singer was a larger than life character who had just been released from prison after a five year stretch for armed robbery. In prison he'd got friendly with Charlie Kray. Kray had told him that his organisation had a label and they wanted him to form a band and that he'd sign them and make them famous. The Krays were well connected and it seemed like a good opportunity for Graham. A few rehearsals followed, and I even recorded a demo for the band on my port-a-studio, on the promise of payment when the money rolled in.
Then I got a very disturbing phone call. It was the serious crime squad. I'd been given as an alibi by the singer, who'd been arrested for robbing an off license in the Green Man area of Mill Hill. I was puzzled. As I explained, he had a booking at the time. I could verify that the band had gone into the studio and left at the time, as I'd let them in and out. However I couldn't vouch for the intervening three hours, but it seemed unlikely to me that he would have been robbing an off license during a rehearsal. The officer then told me that he'd been recorded on a video camera entering the premises in a mask, robbing it with a gun and departing. I asked how they knew it was him if he was wearing a mask? For me, a not unreasonable question. The officer replied that before he left, he'd removed his mask, looked at the camera and combed his hair. It turned out that he'd been in the rehearsal and when they'd stopped for a cigarette, he'd said he was nipping out to get some beers. Sadly, he was jailed and that was that. About six months later, Charlie Kray came down with another band. He asked if I was looking for a partner in the studio. He said he could invest some serious money and do the studio up, bringing all manner of well known artists down. Not wishing to offend him, but also not really wanting to get involved in that world, I said I'd have a think about it and call him back. We never spoke again, although I have to say I found him to be good company and an entertaining bloke.
6. Howard Marks. Howard Marks was a 'notorious' cannabis dealer. He wrote a very entertaining autobiography called Mr Nice, that is well worth a read. Marks always claimed that he only dealt cannabis, which he believed should be legal. In around 1999, we had a phonecall at the studio from a gentleman asking if we'd be interested in selling a range of high end leather guitar straps that his company was making. When the gentleman turned up, both myself and Ernie immediately recognised him. I'd never met him before, but Ernie had come across him previously, whilst working as a driver on the overland route. They had a chat about the old days of the hippy trail and we took a few of the straps. We never saw him again, although the straps sold quite well. It says a lot that the law enforcement agencies put far more effort into catching Marks than they ever did chasing really evil killers like Sobhraj.
7. Sir Roger Tichborne. Until the McLibel case, my name was in the Guinness book of records as the longest running court case in English law. Sadly for my enemies, it wasn't me. It was my great grandfathers cousin. The Tichbornes are a long establish, wealthy family that owned half of Hampshire at one time. The family was noted as the fifth richest in England in the early 19th century. Sadly for me, my great, great grandfather was not the eldest, so he didn't inherit the family pile and had to go and make his way in the world. But his nephew, the heir was Sir Roger, beloved son of Lady Mabelene. Sir Roger went off to see the world and disappeared. The rumour was that he'd been on a ship that sunk in a storm. Lady Mabelene refused to believe he was dead. A reward was posted for information. A chap turned up in Australia claiming to be Sir Roger, Thomas Castro, a butcher from Wagga Wagga. Castro/Tichborne returned to the UK and was welcomed by Lady Mabelene as her long lost son. The rest of the family claimed he was an imposter, not least because there was a huge sum of money involved. The court case dragged on for years. When Lady Mabelene died, the claimant, as he became known, lost his only supporter from the family. He ended up being found guilty of 'personation' and served fourteen years hard labour. Interestingly the descendants of the family have always refused to have a DNA test to put the matter to bed. My Dad always said he believed that the claimant was the real thing. He had nothing to gain either way. I have to laugh when I learn that my name is the biggest case of identity theft in the Uk. A film was made of the story featuring Stephen Fry, Sir John Geilgud and Anita Dobson. It was directed by David Yates. I had a small role as an extra, getting paid £68 for a days work.
I guess that we all need a good Friday joke at the moments such as these. Today is a difficult day for all of us who love our city and care about our family and friends. There really could only be one thing that did the job. Please have a safe and chilled out weekend.
Do you love London? If you don't, then I suggest that you don't bother with this particular blog. If however, like me, you love London with a passion, then I implore you to give some thought to the points I am going to make. My good friend Mr Mark Amies had a book published last year called London's Industrial Past. It is a fantastic book that really brings home how London changed over the period of about 50 year from being a dynamic industrial powerhouse, to a post industrial society based around services and shopping. What Mark wrote about happened over a period of about 50 years. London is about to change again, beyond recognition and that change will happen in the space of about two years. I believe that we are in year zero of the post covid world and the damage that this disease has done to the London we know and love has not even started to emerge.
Let me start by saying why I live in this City. There are several reasons, I was born and raised here. I call it home. I have a great group of friends that as with any reasonably sociable dweller in a cosmopolitan metropolis, is constantly evolving. When I left school, this was a large white north London born crowd, with English, Irish and Jewish connections in the main. Through work, music and football, this group now includes people from the four corners of the world. In normal times, a normal week might include a gig, a trip out for a meal, a couple of visits to a local pub, a trip into town to meet former work colleagues or friends at a city pub, maybe a visit to the Theatre. At the weekend, I might take in some non league football at Hadley, or if Manchester City are in town a trip to a Premiership stadium (if I am feeling very adventurous, a trip to Manchester). On a Thursday I'll play five a side at Powerleague and would have a beer with the boys after. I have many friends who work in the city of London, so at least once or twice a month I'll be meeting some for beer and a curry. Living in Mill Hill, we have a handy train service to West Hampstead, Kentish Town, Kings Cross, Farringdon and Blackfriars, so if myself and my wife are bored, we might hop on a train to any of these destinations for food/drink/both.
If we have friends in towm, from Blackfriars, the Tate Modern, Shakespeares Globe Theatre and Borough Market are a short walk, these are great places to visit. As for music, we love The Roundhouse, The Dublin Castle and the Jazz Cafe in Camden, Ronnie Scotts in Soho and the 100 club in Oxford Street, as well as a plethora of other smaller venues. The train and tube system makes all of these accessible. For each, there is a favoured pre gig meeting place, either a pub or restaurant.
As I said, that is in normal times. All of that more or less came to a juddering halt last March. If you deconstruct all of this for the post covid world, it is quite hard to see how the jigsaw can be re-assembled. Of course the local friendship groups will survive, but I fully expect our locality to lose some of our favourite restaurants and pubs. A business simply cannot survive for months on end with the doors closed. Even if the establishment is still hanging on, many will lose valued staff, both front of house and in the kitchen. On top of covid, Brexit has meant that many European staff have simply gone home. This isn't a problem for a closed restaurant, but when establishments start to reopen, they might well have a very different work force.
As for the friends who work in the city. I talk to most on Whatsapp regularly. None have been near an office since March. Most have settled into a pattern of working from home and many firms have realised that there are big cost savings to be made. I simply cannot see any way that the former London office culture will return. This will mean that there are empty offices and the pubs, restaurants, bars and other shops that serve them will lose a significant chunk of their customers. If this change happened gradually, then districts could adapt and re-invent themselves. Covid has meant that it has happened in the course of a year, a year where most businesses have had their doors shut. In short, it is cataclysmic for these areas of London. The suburbs, such as Mill Hill, have been less affected. There is a different dynamic. Many are actually better off, as they've not had to pay to commute or pay for lunch and after work entertainment. Property prices in such areas are actually rather bouyant.
BBC Radio London broadcaster Robert Elms has stated that he believes London plays the long game and will reinvent itself. This is just one of those cycles of change. Does he have a point? I am sure that London will not disappear off the face of the earth. It will change. Whilst I can't see the big city offices returning in the same way, I don't personally believe that offices are dead. I've worked in many and the synergy that you can get from having working in an office of like minded people working hard, then going for a drink after, in a city pub, where problems and issues are discussed and solved, without the firm paying a penny, is one aspect that many firms bean counters have never understood. Few companies really get that. I can only think of one that really enhanced the concept. Many years ago, I worked on technology projects based on systems provided by a US company called Tandem Inc. Every Friday, Tandem would have a 'Beer Bust' in their offices, where a fridge full of beer was there to be consumed at the end of the week. If customers and clients were around, they'd be invited to join in. After the beer bust finished, people would often adjourn to the nearest drinking establishment. It now sounds very '80's, but it meant that people had a degree of loyalty to Tandem products that I've not seen for other corporate entities.
I do see a situation where, with vacant cheap office space, small startups will recreate that sort of spirit, but it won't happen overnight. If you want to develop leading products, I strongly believe a vibrant environment enables this. Lockdown will have given a lot of creative people a great opportunity to develop ideas. I am personally hopeful that this will be an unexpected covid dividend, that will emerge over the next two years. I also expect many of the city centre offices to be repurposed as flats. I think it is very likely that these will attract a younger and more fluid population than London currently sees. I expect property prices in central London to slump as all of these things happen, but recover as the City reinvents itself. I fully expect London in ten years time to have completely different feel to it as a result.
Sadly we will see major pain for Londons transport system. As less people are likely to be commuting, the budget for public transport will be hit. For decades the tube has run at a profit but the bus system has made a loss. I expect the ridership on the tube to recover to some degree. Buses are always necessary for key workers and for parts of London that have no other infrastructure, but I expect to see a major scaling back of routes that are running empty. Unless there is serious financial support, this could have a drastic effect on London's recovery. What we need is for the Mayor and Central government to get together and work out exactly how they will manage this. The stated aim of both is to increase cycling, reduce car usage and move away from fossil fuels. If tube trains are running at 80% capacity even in rush hour, maybe TFL should be encouraging people to take bikes on them. I have wondered whether a purpose built carriage, with no seats when cyclists could dock bikes may work? One thing is clear, If we simply carry on with the old methods of financing all of this, TFL will become bankrupt and London will commit a huge act of self harm. If this budget squeeze damages the amazing public transport system, London will lose a great advantage over many other cities it competes with.
Then there is the entertainment and hospitality sector. I had a chat with a friend who I meet regularly, in normal times. We would usually meet in a pub for a couple of beers, then adjourn for a curry. We visit a different district of London each time and have built up a big network of pubs and restaurants to visit. Our conversation was pretty much based around "Which of these will still be running when a degree of normality returns?". I think it is likely that many of these establishments will have simply shut up shop. Maybe new ones will open.
One thing that breaks my heart, that has been evolving over the last few years is that the traditional Bangladeshi Indian restaurants we associate with London are simply fading away. The generation of owners who opened them, when times were good, are ageing. Their children do not want to work in the industry and the visa rules prevent them from taking on staff from Bangladesh who know the culture and cuisine. The crisis has pushed many of these to the edge, if not over the cliff. I for one will mourn the loss of the traditional curry house both in the city and the suburbs. Then there are pubs and microbreweries. These have been hit especially hard by lockdown. The pub sector has been in decline for a long time. In recent years, microbreweries have reinvigorated the sector, but the rules around lockdown have made many of these untenable propositions. I've been told that many pubs are now coming under the scrutiny of property developers. I suspect that what will happen is that many pubs will be lost for flats that no one wants anymore. The fact that a few developers will lose a lot of money will not cause me any loss of sleep, but the cost to society will be immense.
If we look at our shops, many people have switched to online shopping. This was happening gradually before covid, but we've seen 20 years of change in ten months. I doubt that people will go back to their weekly big shop with a loaded trolley. Many department stores have closed. By the same token, many independent shops have actually thrived during the crisis. My local butcher and wine shop have had their best Xmas ever. I think people are waking up to the fact that whilst buying beans on line may be ok, if you want quality you need a local shop, run by someone who knows what they are doing and who can help and guide you. It would seem to me that such small businesses need help and encouragement and young people should be taught that running such and enterprise is a great thing to do. I see independents as the future for Londons high streets. This will need a whole change of the way we tax business though. It is ridiculous that a multi national pays no UK tax on sales of billions whilst the local butcher pays 10% of every sausage he sells to the taxman.
As to the theatre and music sector. Theatres generate a huge mount of economic activity in London. As theatres have been shut, all of the pubs, pre theatre restaurants etc have taken a massive hit. I just hope that enough of these survive to make the West End viable. I suspect that once a degree of normality returns, then the the return of punters will bring the other business back.
Grassroots music is likely to be hit far harder. Without the network of pubs and other venues, in the short term this seems likely to contract massively. It seems likely that in a years time, there will be a lot of empty properties and shut pubs and clubs. It seems to me that music will offer an opportunity to repurpose some of these. I've been promoting music for over 40 years. I know that music can make a venue a lot of money if done properly. This only works if you put the right music at the right venue in the right area. It is best done by local promoters who love the genre they are working in and have the network to get the best artists. I sincerely hope that a new generation of young people, willing to take risks, gets stuck into the empty properties and transform them into new venues. This was what happened in 1976/7 with the punk explosion with clubs like The Roxy. There is a saying that nature abhors a vacuum and I think that once landlords wake up to the fact that their properties are costing them money, this will start to happen.
There is a big role for government, both local and national in all of this. For London to regenerate itself, government will need to ensure an environment exists where people wanting to open new businesses, transform offices into flats, regenerate pubs etc are not blocked by unhelpful rules, regulations, costs and paperwork. Government needs to make it as simple as possible for people to open shops and businesses that improve areas. On the flip side of the coin, here in Barnet we've seen some absolutely awful, eyesore developments. These have been justified because there has been a shortage of housing. Sadly, when built, these blocks are not for locals or key workers and the developments add little to the local economy, as they are bought by offshore investors, who have no interest in the area.
In short, if London is to re-invent itself, we need Londoners themselves to rebuild the city. We need to understand what a 21st century digital city should look like. We should ensure that there is good quality housing for key workers and all of the things that make living in London amazing are retained. We should try and make London a fairer and younger city. We should encourage start up firms to take on empty offices. We should educate our young people to think in terms of doing things for themselves. We should retain a cheap and efficient mass transport system, which is non polluting and safe. I believe that London will go through a very difficult period, but it will recover and come back better and stronger. Whether this happens in two year, ten years or twenty years, depends on the quality of our leadership, both local and national. When we elect these leaders, we should be asking what they plan to do about these issues, rather than voting like donkeys, based on the colour of a candidates rosette. I want to see people going into politics with CV's that show tangible achievements, rather than people who have been selected because they've inserted themselves into a talentless political bubble, where they are seen as loyal.
Last night, we settled down to watch the Spurs vs Brentford League Cup semi final. Half way through, the commentary team started to talk about England and Manchester City legend Colin Bell. To my horror, this was how I learned that Colin Bell MBE had passed away. I am a Manchester City fan and like just about every City fan of my era, Colin Bell, the King of the Kippax was my favourite player. I started supporting City in 1968, the Joe Mercer and Malcolm Allison era. I was six years old. I think initially, I loved Bell because his mop of hair was a bit like mine. Bell was everything I wanted a football to be. I have never been a fan of over flashy players. I liked fast players who just got on with it.
Bell was known as Nijinsky, for his amazing stamina and athletic ability. He would breeze past opponents. You almost knew that when Bell got the ball at the half way line and started running, a goal was likely to follow. The era was very different. The pitches were rubbish and the full backs and centre backs were hard as nails. You would see them lung in on Bell, who more often than not would skip over the challenge and head straight for the box. If I had a Tardis, maybe the match I would most love to see was the Manchester derby at Old Trafford in 1968. City and United were neck and neck for the title. United had a team of legends. City had Bell, Summerbee and Lee. City coach, Malcolm Allison had hired a steeplejack to climb the roof and fly a City flag over Old Trafford. City won and only their second title made its way across Manchester. Whilst many hail George Best as the worlds greatest and most skilfull footballer, Bell was a completely different character. Where as Best was an individualist, who threw his talent away, Bell was a team player, who lit up every game, but was never flashy.
Bell was also a very decent, humble and honest guy. His career was effectively ended by Manchester United's Martin Buchan, in a League cup game that City won 4-0. Bell always insisted it was an accident and that Buchan did nothing wrong. Sadly Bell played in the era before the big bucks, so didn't get the rewards that his efforts would have earned today. He maintained his link with City and City named a stand after him when they moved to the Etihad. It seems ironic that the day after his passing, City once again play Utd in the League Cup, the fixture that effectively ended his career. I think Bell would approve of the style of play and especially his spiritual successor, Kevin Dd Bruyne, who is in many ways the heir to the throne of the King of the Kippax.
There is always a debate about how former greats would cope in the modern era. My view is that Colin Bell is one of the very few who would absolutely thrive. He was a natural footballer, with an amazing work ethic. Malcolm Allison was a progressive coach, who modernised the English game. Bell was the key to how he wanted City to play. Bell played on poor pitches, in an era of crunching tackles. He had good feet, an amazingly quick brain, was quick and had superb stamina. I am sure he would have had no problem adapting. I can only dream about how he may have fitted into Guardiola's team with De Bruyne and David Silver, but I suspect he would absolutely shine. Furthermore, the injuries that ended his career would have been fixed today and his career would undoubtedly have had more highlights.
I've seen many great players. Of the English players over the years, I've seen Bobby Moore, Glen Hoddle, Stanley Bowles, Paul Gascoigne, Bryan Robson, Kevin Keegan, to name a few. Great players all. But to me, none compare to Colin Bell.
We'll drink a drink a drink
To Colin the King the King the King
He's the leader of Man City
He's the greatest inside forward
That the world has ever seen
A strange thought occurred to me as I was tucking into my rather tasty lunch, made from the leftovers of my Sunday lunch. As a blogger, I feel obliged to record the world we live in through my eyes. The very best bloggers, ones that I enjoy most, write about the most mundane things, but point out angles that you'd never have thought of. To me a good blogger is like a prism on life. They take the bland white light of life and transform it into all of the colours of the rainbow. When I started writing this blog, there were many excellent bloggers, who's observations fascinated me. Many have given up, many have tired of the process and lost their spark. It is hard to keep up a blog and even harder to see new and interesting angles. If you try and force it, you end up with something rather dull and bland. My 'stream of consciousness' blogs really need a spark. Something to start the stream flowing. Today I felt very uninspired. I've spent the morning locking down the studios. It was a sad and very difficult time. The one thing that kept me positive was my plans for lunch.
As I say down, I got to thinking of lockdown. It is a time of little inspiration. Not only that, but it's freezing cold, it's the middle of winter and I am stuck in the house with my wife and three adults children, all of whom are fed up to the teeth with being stuck. My eldest was meant to be in Mexico some time around now. My middle daughter wanted to do a TEFAL course and teach English in the Far East. My son has just started a degree at UCL. None are in a good place. Both my wife and myself have a busy calendar and miss seeing friends and getting out and about. This is now the third time we've been through this.
As I thought about the coming weeks, it occurred to me that for many of us, it is like being in a series of Big Brother. As I found the programme boring beyond belief, this is not a scenario I particularly savour. A friend of mine is one of the scouts who finds candidates for Big Brother and once suggested that I 'give it a go', assuring me that it would be a shoe in. The thought horrified me. I explained to her "There is nothing I'd less rather do than be stuck with a bunch of people I couldn't escape from, being dictated to and having my movements constrained and having to pretend to be having a good time". As I scoffed my tasty plate of leftovers, I realised that this is exactly how I feel about lockdown. We are cut off from friends, we have all manner of odd and arbitary rules. It seems to me that many of the rules are dreamed up by recently recruited graduates with little concept of adult life. Take for instance when Boris commanded the pubs to close at 10pm. Now if you are a student, new to alcohol and with abundant chances for sexual romps, then this may constrain you (although I always thought students would prefer a bottle of Thunderbird and a party back at the flat), but if you are an old bloke who likes to discuss dog racing with his mates in the Bridge, social distancing is something you've been doing for years. Blokes say hello but keep their distance. Hardened drinkers do not get touchy feely with each other in suburban boozers on a cold Tuesday night.
With this new lockdown, even a swift pint in the Bridge at 7pm is banned. The reason? The same bunch who think banning a pint in the Bridge will halt a plague, didn't spot the fact that classrooms full of toddlers, with parents chatting away as they arrive and depart would act like a covid bomb. They only cancelled Christmas after everyone had made plans. I know many people who made their own rules, some of whom who now have covid. The sad truth is that people concluded long ago that Boris hadn't got a clue what he was doing and his army of teenage advisers even less. Whereas the Big Brother contestants wait for instructions from Big Brother, we await the conference from Boris. If we've been a 'good population' we get some easing. If we are naughty and the rate goes up, we get privileges removed.
Just to make matters even worse, the government have been promoting a dry and vegan January. What could possibly be a worse time to get this message over. I eat semi vegan three or four days a week (by semi vegan, I mean that I avoid fish/meat/dairy but not totally religiously). It's not a hardship and by buying good quality free range meat from an independent butcher, I feel I am being responsible. Meat is a treat. Generally I have a fry up on a Saturday, a Roast on a Sunday and something with leftovers on a Monday. As Clare eats fish but not meat so Friday we have a seafood curry and maybe another fish dish or two in the week. This cycle gives me something to look forward to most days. I love a good homemade Penne Arrabiata, so that's no hardship. But if I had to remove the things I enjoy in a lockdown, it would be almost impossible.
As to the dry January. I decided to not drink until the 14th. As I don't drink for three days of the week, this has not been a hardship yet, but I suspect the weekend will be very hard. There is nothing more pleasant than a nice bottle of wine and a good film. I rarely watched Big Brother, but I have to say I don't like drinking in the company of people I don't like. There is always the temptation to tell people the truth, which is the worst thing you can say. It is interesting that we are brought up to believe that telling lies is a bad thing, but in my experience, telling the truth is what really hurts people. In my job, I often get played the most awful music by wannabe performers. They ask for advice. Sober, I will look for some element of what they've done that is positive and worthy of encouragement. If I was drunk, God knows what I'd say, but it would be very harsh truths and I'd I'd regret it. I recall about 20 years ago a young lady turning up for a rehearsal who had a very strong voice. She came into the shop and played a song to us. She'd just written it and wanted our 'professional ear'. On first play, she was a bit nervous, didn't play it well and didn't sing it too well. I didn't know what to say, so I said "Try it again but sing it like you really mean it and don't worry if you miss a chord on the guitar, don't be shy". She did just that and our jaws nearly hit the floor. I simply said "If you can sing like that, you don't need to worry too much". That was Amy Winehouse. Whenever I hear an artist sounding a bit nervous, I think of that moment with Amy. You need to give people a chance. That is why you should never make and important decision when you've had a drink. But we are in lockdown. Are we making any decisions for ourselves? Big brother is telling us who we can see, who we can't. Just suppose that two years ago, I'd have said to you "In two years time Boris Johnson will be PM and he'll ban you from seeing your mum, your dad and your girlfiend/boyfriend and you won't say a dickybird" You'd think I was bonkers.
But that is just where we are. Big Brother was originally a creation of George Orwell, based on his opinion of repression in the Soviet Union. I wonder what he'd have made of the covid crisis. Don't get me wrong, I see little alternative to all of this. I am not a covid denier or a believer in a conspiracy theories. I am just thoroughly sick of it all and rather hope that people do things to do to secure us all an eviction from this horrible situation.
