The Saturday List #453 - Ten signs that tell me I'm getting older!

 What was the first time you thought about getting old? I can tell you exactly when. It was the last day of the school summer term in 1967. I was four years old. I was the youngest in the class at St Vincents. My birthday is in late August, which meant I was a year younger than some of my classmates. Not only that, but I'd been born six weeks premature. If I'd been born on time, I wouldn't even have been the oldest in the year below. But there I was, marooned in a class where I was the smallest, slowest and weakest, by some distance. Although a year may seem nothing, when you are four, it is a quarter of your life. I was being teased. On the last day of term, I was the only boy who was still four in the class. But I realised that time was on my side! When term started back in September, I'd be five, I'd be as big as the rest of them. I'd be five, I'd be a big boy. I hadn't worked out that soon all of my mates would be six and I'd just be five. But it was the moment that I first started to be aware of ageing. Ageing is a funny old thing, when things are best, we want to age faster, as we start to fall apart, we suddenly want longer in the moment. I've no idea what age I thought was the best, but I guess that I didn't appreciate it at the time. I thought it would be worth charting my 'ageing milestones'.

1. The first 'hair'. As I already mentioned, I was the youngest by some distance. I was also blond and I guess of some sort of Nordic origin. At school, my mates of Mediterranian, etc origin were covered in hair by the time they were twelve. None appeared on me. I was massively self conscious of this. I thought I was a freak. The first sprouts appeared about two years after everyone else seemed to be covered in hair. I'd sit in the bath and look at myself in horror. I was massively self conscious. When I had my first sexual experience at around fourteen years old, I was terrified that she'd laugh if she saw my unhirsuite form. To my amazement, this was not an issue. I stopped caring and immediately the hair started sprouting. It hasn't stopped since, mostly in places I don't want, ears, nose, back etc. But believe me, it was a masive stress for me for a couple of years. I'd dread PE and Games at school in case someone noticed. I think I was saved by the rather homophobic culture at FCHS, where we didn't observe or comment on other boys private parts.

2. Train Travel. When I was sixteen, I decided to go to Manchester, to watch Manchester City. The rule used to be that to get a child fare, you had to be under fifteen. One of the benefits of looking very young and angelic for my age was that I never got challenged. That was until I went to buy a ticket. I'd saved up my paper round money and was really excited. I turned up at Euston. In those days, there was no ID. The decision of the bloke in the ticket office was final. Euston had rows of shiny ticket offices and the bloke simply wasn't having it. "If you were fourteen, you wouldn't be going on your own to football". That was that. I was devastated. Then I thought, hang on, there's about ten counters. I looked along the line. Who would take pity on me? I knew it had to be someone who was far enough from the bloke who'd refused. I decided that my best bet was a kindly looking lady. I was working out my tactics. There was a queue and in front of me was a Dad with two young boys in City scarfs. I came up with a cunning plan. I explained my predicament and asked if he could buy me a ticket. He laughed and said of course. The bloke was a really nice guy and I ended up travelling up and back with him. It turned out he was something to do with Manchester City Supporters club in London. I went to a couple more games with him that season. Football fans always loved getting one over on authority, so he was more than happy to help. But I realised that the days of travelling as a kid were up.

3. The Pub. Now whereas I wanted to appear as young as possible for the purposes of travelling on trains, for the purposes of going to the pub, I wanted to appear as old as possible. The first time I went into a pub on my own and had a beer was when I was thirteen. I had gone to watch Manchester City at Upton Park in 1975. I'd hooked up with some City fans on the tube, who felt sorry for me. They took me to the pub and bought me four pints. I loved it. I realised that the pub was somewhere I wanted to spend time. A few months later, I got my sister to take me to the Three Hammers. I sat in the corner and she bought me a couple of Shandies. This went on for a year or two. I loved the atmosphere, and I never got challenged. When I was about sixteen, I went in on my own and bought a beer. No one raised an eyebrow. They had seen me and knew I was OK. A few weeks later, I took a few mates (all a few months older). They all got kicked out and the landlord told me not to bring youngsters into the pub!

4. Leaving School. I guess the biggest right of passage for us all is leaving school. I left Orange Hill school in the summer of 1981, aged eighteen. I did three A levels and scraped passes in two. I had appleid for University but missed the grades by a mile. In hindsight, that was a blessing. I'd chosen the wrong subjects and University wasn't really for me. In fact, the whole concept of studying horrifies me. Being free of it was wonderful. I loved Orange Hill and my mates, but the time had come to move on. I was pleased to open a new chapter in my life.

5. Getting a flat. When I was 21, I was in a serious relationship. We wanted to move in together. That meant that I had to get a proper job. Having vowed never to study again, I enrolled in a TOPS scheme Computer Operations course. This was ten weeks long. At the end of it, I got a job at SPL International, which paid a good salary. I desperately needed the money as being a musician, I'd run up debts. I paid these off. I owed my Dad a lot of money, as he'd bailed me out when the heavies were chasing me after I ran up huge debts on our bands Swedish tour. The deal was I'd clean cars for him to work it off and pay it off as quickly as I could. When I started at SPL, I paid off the last of it in three months. My partner understood that this was the key priority. When I finally cleared it, Dad gave me the money back. He said that it wasn't the money, it was the principle and he hoped I'd learned. I had. The money immediately went towards a deposit for a flat. It was a big deal for me. It was great, but it soon became clear that I wasn't quite ready for a proper, adult relationship. But it was a big moment.

6. Past it. Up until now, all the milestones were, in my eyes at least, positive. You want to be a bit older, so you can do things that your age prohibited. Then all of a sudden, something hits you. You realise that you are not the new kid on the block anymore. I can remember the exact moment. It was the 30th November 1984. I was twenty three. The False Dots were playing at The Cricklewood Hotel. It was a very decent gig at the time. Allen Ashley was our singer. Allen is a few years older than me. We'd always been the new kids on the block, the upstarts. When we played at the Cricklewood Hotel, there was a band on with us that were all teenagers and had a strong teenage following. Their fans simply weren't interested in us, no matter how hard we tried. It was the first time I ever felt old.

7. My daughters first day of school. When my Eldest daughter Maddie started school at St Vincents in Mill Hill, I was back where this list started. But I was a Dad, a responsible member of the community, not a naughty little boy. The Headmistress, the wonderful Anne O'Leary had taught me. Now she was a peer. It was a very strange moment. She joked "Normally, we show new parents around the school, but I guess you know it already". The school was still in it's old buildings, it had hardly changed (a couple of years later, the new school was built over the road). I had all sorts of flashbacks. It was odd, but it was a real moment for me, when I finally had to admit to the fact I'd grown up.

8. My Mum passing. In August 2008, I became an orphan. Of all the moments in my life, it was the moment when I most felt alone and isolated. My mum had been unwell for a long time and I'd long since relied on her for financial and emotional support. But the fact she was there was like an anchor to the past. She was gone and it was incredibly hard for me to accept that I'd never go for a Guinness and a chat with her again.

9. Giving up playing football. I always said that I'd only stop playing football when I could not physically manage it. That moment came in March 2023. My ankle finally gave up. My physio said "Don't play until it has got better". It hasn't. It has been a devastating experience, I hate not playing. Occasionally, it doesn't hurt and I immediately start planning my return. Sadly it soon hurts again.

10. Cancer. This time last year, I was recovering from a radical prostatectomy. It was life changing and not in a good way. It forced me to face up to a lot of things. Get wills and powers of attorney in place. It also made me re-evaluate what I do with time I've got left. I've decided that I'll go down with all guns blazing and enjoy myself. Right now, I feel pretty good. None of us know how long we've got, but we can either face the future with hope or fear. I choose hope!

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And on that note

Money, wealth, life, death and the future

Sometimes, I feel the urge to pass on some of the wisdomw I've acquired over the years. As I sometimes do, I was thinking about my Dad earlier. The reason? I was walking past his old MacMetals workshop in Mill Hill and I saw the guy who runs the garage now had a shiny red Corvette in for work. Dad was what one may have  labelled a petrolhead, before the term became used. He once told me that one of the reasons he started a car repair business was so that he could drive all the best sports cars at top speed, without the cost of buying them. Often the real owners would turn up enraged with a speeding ticket, weeks later. Dad would say "One of my blokes must've taken it for a test drive" and sign a letter to the Police, saying he had no record of who. He'd then tell the driver that it would unprofessional and irresponsible to release a fixed car back to the owner without giving it a proper run, to ensure everything was done properly. He'd point out that high performance cars were built to be driven quickly and if they weren't tested at speed, then there was a risk that a loose nut or other such thing may cause a terrible crash, so it was important to test them and check them. The owners would go home reassurred and happy. Dad joined the RAF because he wanted to see the world and fly planes. They paid him to fulfil his dreams. I once asked him if he had any regrets. He said "Yeah, I never won the pools".

He had a lot of wisdom when it came to money, wisdom that informed my life choices. He believed money was to be enjoyed, what was the point being rich if you didn't spend your money. But his view so long as you paid the bills, you should enjoy your cash. He'd often say little nuggets of wisdom. One example that I didn't understand properly at the time was "If you've got £100 in your pocket, it might save your life, if you have a million £'s in the bank, it might just cost it". It is worth noting that this was before the days when we tapped a bank card for everything and it took time and effort to retreive funds from the bank. Dad explained that you should always keep some cash about your person and not all in your wallet, when you are travelling. It doesn't matter how much money is in the bank, if you need it now, have some cash. In many ways, his message lost it's meaning as we can now tap a card for a cab etc, but the point is, if you need money and it is unavailable it is no use at all.

Another thing he'd often say to me was that no one loves you for your money. Again, this goes against the received wisdom of the day. What he was saying was that if someone is interested in you because you are rich, they are not interested in you and won't make you happy. If someone simply wants your money, love doesn't come into it. I was reminded about this by the recent Oasis reunion, where the rumours are that the band reformed to pay for an expensive divorce settlement. When I was a teenager, I worked as a painter/decorator for a couple of years. I worked on a lot of rich people's houses. Usually, the man was out working and the woman was stuck at home, bored and miserable. Working in people's homes is interesting, as they forget you are there. You see and hear all sorts of things, some of which I found very shocking. I'm more worldy wise now, but even so, I couldn't help but be cynical about why people marry rich people after that. 

One of the oddest things he said in regards to money was "Every second you spend counting your cash is a wasted moment you'll never get back". When you are young, you have no concept that time is running out. My Dad passed away when he was only seven years older than I am now. Due to my mums prudent management of money, he was well off. He told me that in some ways, this troubled him. He said that when you can really enjoy your cash, you don't have enough of it. My Dad's view was that everyone who had spent a life working hard, should have more than enough money to be comfortable later in life. At the moment, there is a huge political row about winter fuel payments. It is tragic that it seems there are people who have worked hard all of their life and they don't have cash to see them through. The UK is far richer than when my Dad was alive, he died in 1987. However this has not translated into financial security. Every year it seems that ever more safety nets are pulled from under us. Where is all this cash that the country has generated gone? The answer is pretty simple. It's called inequality. A small group of people in the country are infinitely more wealthy than ever. Most of us in the middle are just about getting by. The people at the bottom are in dire financial straits. 

I was reading in the paper this morning that following a campaign by Esther Rantzen, MP's will be given a free vote on passing laws to allow euthenasia. I wonder how long it will be before people start using it to escape poverty, once people get used to the idea. When elderly relatives start to experience dementia and it is clear that care costs will eat up the inheritence of children, I do wonder what pressure will be brought to bear on parents to 'do the right thing by the kids'. I look back on my Dad's views on cash. He died aged 69 in reasonable health. 

Me? I'm 62. Only God knows what the future holds. What finacial legacy will I pass on to my kids. If I drop dead tonight, a pretty good one. If I live until I'm 100 and spend a decade in care, then probably nothing. Maybe I should've just let nature take it's course last year when I had an op for my prostate cancer. I'd have done them all a favour financially. I wonder if they'd see it like that? Perhaps I should have asked them. The longer you live, the more cynical you get.

Grenfell Report - Why is no one in prison?

Yesterday, the Grenfell report was finally released, seven years after the fire. For me, the only surprise was that it was far, far worse than I could have imagined. It was crystal clear from day one that it was a clear case of corporate manslaughter. As soon as it became clear that the building was clad in material that accelerated the fire, the police should have started a criminal case for corporate manslaughter. The companies involved have had seven years to cover their tracks. People have left the firms, people have died, emails have been lost. Seventy two people died. The report said that all of them died needlessly. Firms have continued making profits. Directors have continued to be paid bonuses. Of course, a report was needed to ascertain what happened, but the police should have been breaking doors down, seizing mail servers, interviewing people under caution and charging people. I listen to BBC Radio London most days, but I couldn't yesterday. It was too sickening. I started reading the reports in this mornings papers and had to stop. It is so much worse than I could imagine. I thought that it was carelessness that caused the problems, on a massive scale. It didn't occur to me that cladding companies could cheat the tests. I genuinely thought they'd simply not done them thoroughly enough. 

The only way that we can stop such tragedies happening is to lock up the directors of companies that are criminally negligent. If there is a crime that kills 72 people, the police investigation should start on day one. Only when directors end up in the slammer for long periods, will we see companies take safety seriouly. Three years ago, I wrote this poem for the people of Grenfell

I am almost exhausted of things to say about Grenfell, the Cladding Scandal, the Fire Safety Scandal etc. The tragedy was avoidable, it should never have happened. People should not be still living in Roman Candle style buildings clad in flammable material. 

All I can do as an artist, is use words. Here is a poem I wrote. I just wish I could do more.

,  

The Roman Candle (#Endourfiresafetyscandal)

On the 14^th of June we heard the news       

that Grenfell had gone up in smoke         

72 died, hundreds were homeless and       

The system of justice is broke                       

Living in a Roman Candle

Time to end the Cladding Scandal

Living in a Roman Candle

It proves that the system is broke

Time to end the cladding scandal

We don’t want a Roman candle

Time to end the cladding Scandal

People need safe homes

-- 

Three years on from that blog, seven years from the atrocity, there has been no justice. I feel phsyically sick when I think of this issue. That's all. 

Health - A miracle cure for my knee and ankle pain for just £125.25

 Two years ago, I went to Crete for my nephew's wedding. A life changing incident happened. I was walking to the reception and I went over on my ankle. It was excruciatingly painful. I have done this before, but this time it didn't heal. I went to the hospital when I got back for an x-ray. This revealed nothing. I saw my physio, various exercises were given, ankle supports bought, but this did nothing more than mitigate the issue and reduce the pain. Last March, my physio told me to stop playing football until it cleared up, saying that the football was most likely irriating it. Despite not playing since, the pain continued. I walk around five miles a day. When I don't walk it doesn't hurt, but not exercising is not an option. My knees, ravaaged from 50 years of football have also been painful. I have to be honest and say I was starting to feel very down about the situation. When I try and walk, I walk like an old man, shuffling along slowly, dragging my feet.

I have to be honest, I was starting to despair. I have never been a sedentary person, but if it is painful to walk more than a few staeps, sooner or later it grinds you down. All this from what should have been a minor injury two years ago. A couple of weeks ago, I recalled that in around 2008, I was having problems with my knees. I went to see a physio called Ryan McDermott, who worked in the gym I used. Ryan was formerly the physio for Sale Rugby League club and Manchester City. I explained the issue and told him that I did not want to stop playing football. He analysed my gait and told me that the knee pain was due to the fact that the gait of my foot needed correction. He got me some shoe insoles and as if by magic, the knee problems disappeared. 

I wore insoles for about twelve years. The knees were fine. With lockdown etc, we stopped playing football and I forgot about the insoles. I had been getting custom made ones from Runners Needs, along with cushioned air soled running shoes. As my knees had once again become painful, I thought "maybe I should get some new trainers and insoles". I had arranged to meet a mate for beer and curry at the Barbican yesterday. There was a Runners Needs at Monument, so I thought I could nip in there first. I went in and to my horror, I was informed that they no longer make insoles, because it is " a medical issue". I found this to be completely bizarre. If you are selling running shoes, surely you should sell the insoles that make them as comfortable and stable as possible? The young lad serving was pleasant, it was not his fault. He informed me that there was a branch of hiking specialists Ellis Brigham at New Change shopping centre, next to St Pauls that still did insoles. I bought my new trainers and walked up. I was surprise, the new trainers were far more comfortable than the old pair. I realised that these were completely worn out and had been contributing to the problem. Although there was still pain, it was far less pronounced, as the new trainers had far more support.

I got to the shop and explained what I require. A helpful assistant went through the process of making the insoles. it took around 30 minutes in total. I was charged £55 that was a real bargain. I put the new insoles in and walked to the pub, around 0.5 km from the shop. I couldn't believe it. I had absolutely no ankle or knee pain at all. When I got to the pub, I told my friend and explained just how wonderful it was to be walking pain free and unimpeded. I had expected a marked improvement, what I got was a miracle cure. Much to my wife's irritation, I said that it might even mean I can play football again, something that she thinks is ridiculous.

I am quite frustrated with myself that I've had two years of pain, and for £125.50 there was a simple solution. I wonder how many of us are suffering, when such quick fixes are available. To celebrate, I am going to take the dog for a nice long walk around Darlands!

And to Foot Locker. I think you are doing a poor job for your customers. 

Have Oasis let us all down with their greedy ticket pricing?

 Blimey, that was a lucky escape for my credibility. On Sunday, I nearly wrote a blog extolling the positive power of music and how Oasis reforming would give us all a lift. I got sidelined and decided to write a completely different blog. I am so pleased that the Good Lord intervened and distracted me. I'd look like a right Barclay Hunt this morning.

Yesterday, I was bombarded with emails asking what I thought of Oasis, were the Gallagher brothers gready B*****ds, is surge pricing appropriate to concert tickets. Firstly let me say I didn't even try and get tickets. I'd go if I got them for free, but I don't really like mega gigs and big venues. I loved Oasis first two albums, but it seemed like ever diminishing returns after that and it sounded like they were trying to bake the same cake, with the same ingredients a year after their sell by date.

I initially felt that the Oasis reunion would be good for the UK music scene, possibly reigniting interest in guitar based music. Now it seems they've just put into stark focus the fact that many top level music stars are not only out of touch with their audience, but greedy and lacking in any sort of admirable set of principles. The use of surge pricing for tickets, meaning that you wait two hours and then find out that the ticket is £200 than the £150 pricetag. You have a short period to decide whether you want to pay. It is tantamount to extortion. I feel robbed paying a 'booking fee', let alone a ridiculous surcharge. To me, it is totally against the ethos of rock and roll. I initially justified the reunion, as why shouldn't they. Now I feel they've let us down.

As a musician in a band playing 4th/5th tier venues (recognised pubs and clubs on the circuit) it appalls me. When the False Dots play at the Dublin Castle, for instance, you pay a tenner to see us. There are usually 3/4 other bands on, most of which are brilliant. You can have a beer with us before and after the gig, buy a t shirt for £10-£15 and boogie till three in the morning when we are done. We do it because it's fun. At gigs this year, we've sung Happy Birthday with the audience to a couple of fans, given ourt "No 1 Fan" a present and had an absolute blast. 

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A post shared by The False Dots (@thefalsedots)

When we played at the East Barnet Festival, there was a crowd of people with special needs having a proper old boogie, right at the front of the stage. It was a joyful sight and for me reminded me why I do it. For us, another joy is writing and performing new material. In our set, 18 of the 23 songs we may play are less than 3 years old and the audience love them. We added a trumpet to our sound last year, there were no howls that the sound had changed. 

So why do the Gallaghers do it? Well first of all, I must note that like most musicians playing our level, it is not our main source of income. Most of us have other jobs. Only tier 1 /2 bands are genuinely minted. Once you start playing stadiums, it is almost impossible to enjoy a gig with the audience. You are ferried around from gig to hotel to gig. A few lucky fans may be brought back to see you. Often these days, they pay for the privelege. Maybe a few stars of a similar level get a prawn sarnie and a beer at an aftershow party. Your crew set up your gear and break it down, whilst you chill out. If you are the headliners, you may or youy may not have a chat with the support bands, depending on your mood, but it is almost unheard of for a headliner to watch the show. Generally you are constrained to play the hits, often songs you wrote decades ago. God help Oasis if they decided to play a reggae track with trumpet in at Wembley. So where is the fun. It is great seeing an adoring audience, but the difficult truth for Liam and Noel is that they only want to hear six or seven tracks. So long as they can join in with the chorus of Wonderwall in the encore, they will go home happy. They both had cracks at doing stuff that's a bit different and the hardcore fans may appreciate a bit of this, but the lot who paid £350 a ticket to take selfies for their mates won't. How many times can you play the same set to an anonymous crowd at a stadium and genuinely enjoy it? They can't freshen the set up because that's not what they are paying a weeks wages for. 

Maybe they feel they have an itch to scratch, maybe they will release a blinding new album and play it, to universal acclaim. Or maybe the real fun will be knowing that, divorces permitting, they will never have to do it again to make ends meet. I don't begrudge them a penny. If they do it properly, hundreds of thousands of people will go home happy. As for me? I'd rather be down at the Dublin Castle for a tenner watching 999 or a Ska band. Here's a little reminder of what it's like to see The False Dots live. It won't cost you £350. We launch our album there from 2pm on Sunday 17th November, with two other amazing bands

The Tweets of the Week in the London Borough of Barnet - Revisited

 For around ten years, I used to do a feature every Sunday called The Tweets of the Week in the London Borough of Barnet. When it started, it was extremely popular, thousands of views every week and I connected with a whole bunch of wonderful people, some of whom I now consider friends. I did a set sequence of searches as well as keeping a note of any good tweets throughout the week. When Elon Musk took over twitter, the number of interesting factual tweets and great pictures dropped. It got to the point where I couldn't find enough interesting content to fill the slot. Elon Musk also limited the number of results that you got, meaning searches revealed nothing. Once I realised what was going on, I decided that it wasn't worth promoting his platform.

In the week, I had a chat with one of my former regulars, Mark Amies. I mentioned that I rarely look at Twitter now, there is little of interest. After our chat, I thought I'd have a look. Was there anything worth Posting?  The searches I used to do were all related to neighbourhoods in Barnet. I'd search Mill Hill, Edgware, Burnt Oak, Finchley, Golders Green Brent Cross, Colindale, Hendon and Cricklewood. 

So lets see -

  Mill Hill - A nice thread of posts from the Mill Hill Hostorical Society. 

The White Hart on Edgware High Street

A surviving relic from the 1600s and the days of the coaching inn routes

It is the last of Edgware's old pubs but has survived (I have even visited) but it is no longer a pub and has been much neglected in recent years. pic.twitter.com/CpBxTw55wi

— Mill Hill Hist Soc (@MHHistSoc) August 14, 2024

Edgware - This would definitely be featured, Mark Amie still chasing the demise of the Railway pub in Edgware. Sadly Labour replacing the Tories in Barnet has made no difference at all

@BarnetCouncil & @HistoricEngland just what is going on at grade 2 listed Railway Hotel, Edgware? For the last few months there appears to be a rug selling business on the ground floor. Is Ballymore buying it as part of the Edgware Town Centre development? #railwayhoteledgware pic.twitter.com/ybRicvYItE

— Superfast 72 (@Superfast72) September 1, 2024

Barnet - Nice!

Wars of the Roses fiction
https://t.co/kxi6DUaXFi Richard III's childhood
https://t.co/2Z9DgYsZd8 Richard's youth
https://t.co/ZTJJnnOExr Burgundian exile
https://t.co/FHYlxzCk6x Richard's life Barnet to Bosworth; Buckingham's tale pic.twitter.com/Hv1dZoRtnL

— J.P. ReedmanHistfic (@stonehenge2500) August 28, 2024

Burnt Oak - A notable anniversay a couple of weeks ago, a great tweet

ON THIS DAY: 100 years ago, the @TfL Northern Line extended from Hendon Central to #Edgware via Colindale (Burnt Oak was a little late to the party in October 1924). Here's a selection of beautiful posters extolling the new suburb's virtues courtesy of @ltmuseum pic.twitter.com/kgJAMmUdlb

— Joe Brown (@JoeBrownLondon) August 18, 2024

Finchley - This is right up my street, I'll watch this later!

UFOs in North Finchley https://t.co/fiqcLFwHQU via @YouTube

— Byron Vyronos-Science, Religion and Philosophy2013 (@SeraphimA25256) September 1, 2024

Golders Green - Just the type of stuff that I started using Twitter to see.

David Bowie music show to play Golders Green Hippodrome - Ham & High - https://t.co/35rZSuCfsb #GoogleAlerts

— DAVID BOWIE REALITY (@dbfaceofreality) September 1, 2024

Brent Cross - The only search that threw up nothing of much interest to me

Colindale - Sadly the Colindale Folk club is no longer in Colindale, but it's still in the Borough of Barnet

Fri 20th Sept. Linda Moylan @MusicMoylan will be performing at @ColindaleFolk @TheBullTheatre https://t.co/GKZYOv7pjz. Tickets from https://t.co/KwMmzkmpk7 The floor spots start at 8:00 p.m. pic.twitter.com/a88GEFoxpp

— Colindale Barnet Folk Club (@ColindaleFolk) September 2, 2024

Hendon - Congratulations to Hendon on progressing to the next round of the FA cup.

FULL-TIME: Hendon 3-0 Whitehawk #IsthmianLeague pic.twitter.com/2ntlynTDcR

— Whitehawk FC (@HawksFCOfficial) August 31, 2024

Cricklewood - I didn't know Phil Lynott had a flat in Cricklewood, fine tweeting here. Also loved the Caty Delmot tweet.

Nancy Spungen and Sid Vicious at
Phil Lynott's house, Cricklewood, North London, England, 1978.
📸 Chalkie Davies pic.twitter.com/WulBU1n1zW

— Graham (@Gracro5) August 25, 2024

Thanks to local artist, Caty Delmot for restoring her artwork in #Cricklewood Lane with Dahlias, 1 lamb, cats, flowers of the grass, grass seed heads to cover the graffiti this weekend. pic.twitter.com/LEqEF147dG

— NW2 Res Association (@NW2_RA) September 2, 2024

So there you go. It seems that there is life on Twitter still and some good stuff out there. Was I too hasty? I will monitor for a couple of weeks.

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The Sunday Reflection #21 - Honesty is not always the best policy, is it?

 With the recent rise in racism in the UK, my mind has frequently drifted back to the 1970's, Rock Against Racism and The Anto Nazi League. One of my key memories was attending a RAR/ANL rally in Trafalger Square, then marching to Brixton to watch a RAR music festival. I'd not realised what a long way it was until we did the march. The date was 24 September 1978. I was sixteen. The bands were Elvis Costello and The Attractions, Aswad, Misty in Roots and Stiff Little Fingers. A line up for free that I'd pay decent money to watch even today. Approx 100,000 people did the seven mile march, which seemed to take hours. The route  was lined with policemen, in their lovely pointed hats, most of whom spent the time scowling at us. I've always been proud to associate myself with RAR, but to this day I feel a sense of shame about something that happened en route. We'd been walking for what seemed like a couple of hours, when I saw a tennis ball on the ground. I picked it up and was juggling it. I was walking with y Mate Pete Conway, and he bet me a fiver that I couldn't knock off a policemans hat with it. As luck would have it, as he said it, there were a group of coppers having a conflab and not looking at us. I had a swift gander and realised that the coast was clear. I had a pretty good throw back then, and managed to knock his hat clean off. There was a big cheer from the crowd.

What happened next was perhaps the most shameful thing I've ever seen. The copper, turned around, red faced and angry. He pointed at a random member of the crowd, and exclaimed "Nick him, he threw a brick at me". The poor chap was in his 30's and looked like a geography teacher. Immediately, he was swamped by police punching him and was dragged off into the back of a van. We were completely stunned. Out of nowhere, hundreds of police appeared, giving the message that they'd give short shrift to anyone arguing.

I immediately felt terrible. It was all my fault. However, having seen the reaction of the police, I took the cowardly option and let someone take the rap. Given that the copper had clearly lied, I felt my cowardice was sensible. Once we'd got through, Pete thought it was hilarious and took great delight in sharing the story. To this day, I've wondered what happened to the poor chap who got nicked. Was he just duffed up and released? Was he charged with assualting a police officer. The press reported that some people at the march had been arrested for various offences, but there was nothing specific. The poor chap who got arrested would now be 75-90 judging by his look. I've always wanted to apologise, but I have to say that the response of the police was so savage that I really didn't think it wise to own up.

About six months later, I recounted the story to a mate of mine's Dad who was a senior officer, changing one detail. I said it was a mate of mine. I expected him to be disgusted at the behaviour of the police. His reaction was the opposite of what I expected. He demanded that I name the culprit, as the incident was an assault on a police officer. He wasn't in the least bit interested in the overraction of the police. He stated that if the officer thought it was a brick and though he saw the culprot, the police did the correct thing. He also stated that the best way to 'control a rowdy crowd was to go in hard'. To me, it completely undermined my faith in the Police. 

To this day, I've been conflicted as to what happened. I had no intention of harming anyone. I naively thought the police would find it funny. It certainly didn't occur to me that it was an assault. I am still horrified that my actions caused someone to get beaten up and possibly get a criminal record. I'd love to get the chance to apologise. I often wonder about the policeman. Did he really believe it was a brick. The whole crowd pointed to the tennis ball. The chap had friends, who were incandescent with anger, but were cowed into submission by the police reaction. If it went to court, I am sure they would have told the truth. I wonder if the policeman lied. 

As I've got older, there are a few things that I feel I should atone for, in some way. With this incident, I'd love to but I don't really know where to start. Maybe the poor chap or one of his friends may read this. As for the policeman. I hope that he also feels a bit of shame. I've wondered if he ever gave it a second thought. He clearly didn't like anti racists.

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My band, The False Dots have always been proud to support Rock Against Racism. We are hoping to play a gig for them at The Dublin Castle in the near future. Here is a little taster of what we sound like.

The Saturday List #452 - The seven strangest reasons for breaking up!

I was chatting to a customer in the shop earlier in the week. He seemed a bit down, I asked him how things were going. He told me that they were going badly. He explained that his wife had left him. I offered my commiserations. They had been together for decades. When he told me why, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Apparently she'd cooked him Shepherds pie as a treat. He'd put salt and ketchup on it. She had been so affronted that he'd defiled the dish that she proceeded to list all of his failings over 30 years. Not wishing to be outdone, he'd retaliated in kind. She was so upset that she threw him out of the house, got the locks changed and started divorce proceedings.  Apparently this was the first proper row they'd had in their marriage and there was a huge well of resentment on both sides, that a few grains of salt had tipped over the edge. I thought "a bit of salt on a Shepherds pie, strangest reason for splitting up I've ever heard". Then I thought about it. Actually it wasn't. Here are a few of the other reasons I've heard over the years. 

1. The fish slice. I used to work with an Evangelical chap. He was nice enough but a tad strange. To my enormous surprise, he started dating an absolutely beautiful woman. She was funny, bubbly and good fun. The opposite of him. He was smitten. They got engaged and were planning marriage. Then they split up. When he told me the reason, I was gobsmacked. Apparently his mother had come to dinner. His Fiance had made the fatal mistake of serving her a slice of cheese cake with a fish slice. He had realised that she was 'the wrong sort of person for him'.

2. The Buffer of one. I worked with a guy in IT, who was, shall we say, slightly obsessive. He told me that he'd just split up with his partner because she couldn't conform to his system for keeping a spare loo roll in the toilet. He said "if you keep a buffer of one loo rolls, then you will never be caught out". Apparently his girlfriend didn't bring up a new loo roll when the last one was exhasausted and so there wasn't a spare on top of the medicine cabinet. It was too much and she was duly booted out.

3. Furniture polish. An ex boss of mine, who was a wonderful chap, split up with his wife after many years of marriage. He told me that the last straw was that she knew he was allergic to furniture polish. They were having a row and she sprayed him with it, causing him to be covered in the most terrible rashes. 

4. "She was too clean". An ex guitarist in my band was a tad unhygenic. To my surprise, he started going out with  a lovely girl, who may well have been the most fragrant woman I've ever met. For a while, he stopped smelling, had a nice haircut and his teeth became a lighter shade of yellow. Then they split up. The reason? He said she was too clean. He said that not only did she always shower before they made love, she'd have one after as well. This was simply too much for him. Within a week, his normal pong had returned. For me, it was proof that opposites don't always attract.

5. "More than I bargained for". A good mate of mine, sadly long deceased, had a whole string of wives, fiances and girlfriends before setting down. They were invariably real characters. One was a dominatrix. She was a good laugh and very smutty. They seemed really happy. One day, she wasn't around any more. It was clear that he didn't want to discuss it. About six months later, when he'd had a few, the truth came out. For his birthday, she told him that she'd got a special surprise. She trussed him up like an Xmas turkey and blindfolded him, telling him he was in for a big surprise. He wouldn't say what it was, but it was "more than I bargained for" and he said he was "scarred for life". I wasn't sure whether this was mentally or physically. The odd thing was about eighteen months later, they started going out again for a short while. Maybe he enjoyed whatever it was more than he let on! 

6. The murderer. Many years ago, I went out with a lovely girl who lived in Hendon. Her flat mate was a rather large lady, who was going out with acheeky chappie from the East End, who was half her size. This lady was, shall we say, someone who couldn't be satisfied by a single chap. She was rather predatory. As I knew hew boyfriend and he seemed like a nice chap, I was a bit surprised when one morning she brought me a cup of tea after my girlfriend had gone to work, and started trying to seduce me. I said "knock it off, what about your boyfriend?". She said "Oh don't worry about him, we split up". I asked why. She said "He's been arrested for murder!". I made my excuses and left. 

7. "The beast". One of the most hilarious (to me) break ups happened when I was still at school. A girl who I was really good mates with, confided in me that she'd split up with her boyfriend and was very upset. As I always tried to be a good mate, I asked what had happened as they seemed quite happy. She responded "I can't possibly go out with him, he's a beast!". At this I bristled. I have to be honest, I didn't like him at all and I rather liked her. I thought this was a great opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, I could sort this terrible beast out and win her heart! I asked what terrible thing he'd done. Imagine my surprise when she said "He took me to Arsenal. I've never been to a football match before and all he did was shout and swear, I saw a whole new side of him and I simply can't go out with such a beast". I made a mental note never to take a girl on a date to football, especially if she'd never been before.

There are a few other tales, but I can't possibly tell them as the people are still friends and would kill me! Sadly most of my break ups have been stunningly mundane!

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I love reminiscence and old stories. I use a lot of these in my music. If you've not heard the band, we are a bit of a mash up of Madness and Iand Dury. We are releasing an album in November, here is a sneal preview. This song is Sunday in the 70's and features footage of me as a six year old in a Heinz Baked Beans commercial!

How did Fridays become so boring?

It's Friday. There was a time when Friday was my favourite day of the week, I'm not so sure now.  Maybe I'm just sulking as I have to work today, I normally get Fridays off. I was thinking about when I was a  teenager. Unless there was a mega gig on, we'd only ever plan for Fridays. We'd meet up with a group of friends, and then let the wind take us where it wanted. Often, I'd leave work on a Friday and not get home until midnight on Sunday. Often, we'd start the weekend at the Moonlight Club in West Hampstead with a gig. We'd then go back to someone's house for a bit of a party. Saturdays would sometimes be interrupted by football, but generally in August, we'd end up somewhere, grab a few hours sleep in the late hours of the morning, hit the cafe, maybe go to a pub, club or another party and then catch a beer in the pub, before it shut at 2pm. Sometimes I'd head home then, sometimes, we'd go round to a friends, listen to some music and then head back to the pub. It wasn't a particularly healthy lifestyle, but it was fun. Often, the biggest challenge was getting up on Monday for work. 

I recall, at one point, going out, for a short period, with a lovely hippy girl. She didn't approve of boozing, so we did other things that were slightly healthier. I can recall the novel feeling of going to work on a Monday and feeling wonderful. It felt totally alien. Sadly the relationship didn't last. After a couple of weeks, I was enticed into the pub after work for one on a Friday. The inevitable happened.

 When I didn't show up, she assumed I was with someone else and didn't speak to me again. In truth, I wasn't ready for such sensible shenanigans, with such a lovely girl. You may wonder why I'm writing about this? Well this week, in the studio, we had a band called Creation Rebel. They are a heavy dub Reggae band, one that I listened to a lot in the gaps between pubs and clubs, at peoples flats in this period. It is probably forty years since I last listened to them, but I've had them on non stop since they turned up and their music sounds great. They will have a date announced shortly at The Jazz Cafe in Camden and I will be the first in line to see them. 

 

 Therir music took me back to smokey squats in Maida Vale, to our band of friends playing football at 2am under the motorway lights in Mill Hill, to waking up on trains in sidings in Bedford, to persuading a lovely girl at The Bull and Bush to invite us back to her family's mansion, as they were on holiday and drinking half of her Dad's vintage wine collection. Apparently he wasn't amused when he returned, but we had a great time. Often The False Dots had gigs on a Friday night (we weren't quite good enough for the plum Saturday slots). We'd get shuttled around by our mate Dermot, in another mate Emil's camper van. The gig would just be the start of the party. Dermo once told me the partys and shenanigans after the gigs was far more fun than the performance, and that was why he stuck with us. I was annoyed at the time, but I now get what he meant. I can recall the last time I went out on a Friday night and came home on Sunday morning. It was in July 1984, when I was 22.  I met a random mate on the way home from work, went for a quick beer and things quickly escalated. My then girlfriend, who I was living with,  was not impressed, launched an alarm clock at me, requiring 17 stitches. We split up shortly afterwards. I didn't blame her. We didn't have a phone and there were no mobiles, so I had no means to tell her and after the eigth pint non longer was too bothered (shame on me). As I rather liked her, it made me realise that when you are in a relationship, going walkabout is not condusive to a stress free life. 

Forty years on, it is hard to believe that we had such stamina. If I have a wild Friday night (ie four or five pints and a curry) I am too knackered to do very much at all on Saturday. If we are up past midnight, it is a rare night. The band no longer have parties after gigs. We have a couple of beers and go home. How did it all become so boring? Sadly, the truth is we all got a bit old. Perhaps the song that best sums up how I recall it was Friday night and Saturday Morningby The Specials.

As you get older, you start to find things that used to be easy, a bit harder, playing football, running, remembering to put the milk in the fridge. For me, the first of my superpowers to go was the ability to stay up for 48 hours with no sleep. I am still catching it up!

The ten fatal mistakes that have doomed Manchester United

I wrote the following blog ten years ago exactly - barneteye.blogspot.com/2014/08/the-saturday-list-67-ten-fatal-mistakes.html - Change a few names and is all current (any new text is in bold). 

The crisis has been building up for several years. Here are the fatal mistakes that United have made.

1. Underinvestment in the squad under Sir Alex Ferguson. Fergie worked a miracle winning the league two years ago, but he did it with a threadbare squad. Bringing in Van Persie was the catalyst that allowed the feat to be pulled off, but it was clear to everyone that United had an ageing defence and midfield. With Scholes, Giggs, Evra, Ferdinand and Vidic getting long in the tooth, all should have been replaced by then, or at least have credible replacements lined up. Take that out of the League winning team and you don't have a team.

2. Bad succession planning in the business. It was clear that Fergie would go at some point. To lose the Chief Exec at the same time was catastrophic. All businesses need  a degree of continuity in their team. United lost the plot, by allowing themselves to get into this situation.

3. Flawed process for appointing a new manager. United are one of the worlds top brands. They could have their pick of managers. It seems the process was that they simply let Fergie pick a name out of the hat. Worse than that, they picked a manager with no trophies and no Champoins league experience.

4. Bad signings. We listed the five key players who were past their sell by date. They replaced none of them, instead indulging Moyes by signing Fellani, a player they didn't need and who doesn't fit in. It was clear what United needed, they left it too late and picked the wrong players.

5. Inept clearout of backroom staff. The first act of Moyes was a clearout of backroom staff such as Mike Phelan. As such he had no one around who could offer any insight into how to get the best out of the players, why things may not be working.

6. Ineptitude in conducting transfer business. The debacle of the attempt to sign Leighton Baines and Fellani showed the world that United were there for the taking. This has resulted in them paying top dollar for all subsequent signings such as Di Maria and Mata signings.

7. Panic buys in the transfer window. When it was clear that it was going wrong under Moyes, United made the classic mistake of a big name panic buy, bring Juan Mata to the club. Whilst it is true that you can't have enough great players, Mata addressed none of Uniteds problems and unsettled the existing attackers.

8. Showing a lack of class in sacking Moyes. United sacked Moyes the day after they technically couldn't qualify for the Champions League. This was done to save the compensation bill. This type of behaviour saves money in the short term, but in the long term sets down a marker which shows the club are more interested in bean counting than running a football club. Ryan Giggs was brought in as a temporary manager to get the club through to the end of the season. Whilst this may have given him a bit of experience and may assist him in his ongoing role at the club, the whole sorry episode tarnished United.

9. Lack of planning for managerial appointment. Whilst Louis Van Gaal is an excellent manager, with a great track record, given the mess United are in, I believe he was the wrong appointment. The reason is simple. United needed a root and branch rebuilding. the timing of the sacking of Moyes showed that they had clearly been planning the change. They chose someone who couldn't come in until almost the end of the Pre Season. With Van Gaal being totally wrapped up in the World Cup, the pre season was wasted. Had they brough a new manager in when Moyes was sacked, they could have gone into the pre season with somone who'd actually seen the players in action. Transfer targets would be identified and the players could be prepared. As it is, Van Gaal turned up and half the squad were missing. I believe his current predicament is caused by the fact that when the real business started, he hadn't got a clue what his squad could actually do. As such, by the time the transfer window reopens and he actually knows what he needs, United may again be out of the chase for a Champions league place.

10. Chosen the wrong man again? It is too early to say, but for me the signs are not good. In the first point, I listed the players United need to replace. You could argue that Di Maria may be a suitable replacement for Ryan Giggs. That still leaves the other four to replace. Not only that, but Van Gaal has tried to implement a 3-4-3 system with players who clearly are not up to it. Watching the first three games, it was clear to me that the players look terrified. Johnny Evans looked particularly uncomfortable against the mighty MK Dons. Van Gaal has a rep as a stern disciplinarian, to me it looked as if the United defence were scared stiff of making mistakes, so were nervous and jumpy. In the opening PL games, on numerous occasions defenders would receive the ball in space and simply look for a quick sideways pass. Under Fergie in their pomp, they would drive forward and create space elsewhere. Another disturbing feature of Van Gaal is the way he publicly attacked Luke Shaw. Shaw is a young player with a lot of expectation. His manager has put the boot in. How will this help build him up. I cannot imagine Ferguson making such a statement ever. I also think that Van Gaals statements about United not being fit for purpose don't help his cause. Other teams are losing their fear of facing United and these sort of statements don't help. It also undermines his existing players. How must they feel?

Of course, I'm a City fan so I find it hilarious, but that is really by the by. I don't think a single thing I've said hasn't been mentioned by friends who are on the dark side of the football divide.

As I watch the Champions Leage draw, I can't help but feel maybe a few Utd Board members should read The Barnet Eye occasionally. If I'd written a blog in 2009 about mismanagement of a football club, it would have been City. Funny how things change