Author: oyster28catcher (JRA)

The Great Pyramid of Nepal?

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你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste,

It could be argued that too much looking back is bad for the soul. Well my mind is also investigating a possible wander to Détiān pùbù, Bǎnyuē pùbù [板約瀑布, 德天瀑布]. This is located the Daxin County, Guangxi and Vietnam. The Lanning Nandong station may be a useful starting point. The Green City awaits. Then there is Zhēnzhū Tān Pùb [珍珠滩瀑布] too. Oh and Huáng Guǒshù Pùbù [黄果树瀑布]. Anyway they all need further research, and now I can carry on telling the tale of this year’s trek in Nepal.

4th February 2019

The early morning pathway from Namche Bazaar is wonderful. However, we set off at 1130am, touching the afternoon. Having sat in Namche Bakery eating apple strudel and celebrating Ishwor’s Not-Birthday. Srirang and Livia had checked Facebook and assumed the date of birth he had published was his birthday. Turned out it wasn’t. Not that a candle in some chocolate cake wasn’t fun. We sweet off late having shared a fun morning with a birthday party that wasn’t quite right. We walked for a short time and enjoyed lunch at Kyangjuma in a lodge’s garden that I’d previously ate at two years ago. Thamserku was in clear sight and Ama Dablam lay dead ahead on the trail just beyond the Tyangbuche (3860m) brow and the huge monastery.

The owner of the lodge talked with me about how his dog, that I met two years ago, had been eaten by a snow leopard – and the two similar dogs were that dog’s offspring. We talked about the New Year celebrations in Sherpa culture, his hair being died and general local information. Stupas were soon, once again being passed on the left, as we bid our farewells and descended downwards to a river crossing.

We passed Thunki Tanga, which like everywhere seemed to have many variants of spelling. Funky Thanga seemed the best name. Completing the checkpoint registration, we began the slog of a climb up to Tyangbuche. Here we met Albert from Spain, who had walked from Thame. We also met a Sherpa man who had climbed Everest on several occasions when he was a few years younger. He’d walked from Lukla that day and would head as far as Pangboche. One hell of a jaunt! Our destination would be Deboche – and ideally at the Everest Lodge.

May people refer to this part of the trail as ‘Nepal Flat’. You really speaking only gain about 330 metres of altitude. There are woods galore, steep valleys and on this day the bright sunshine gave lovely sweeping clear views. Everest and Lhotse had been dead ahead for some time, until we sank down to Phunkitenga (see, another spelling!) – and here it was all up for a few hours.

On arriving in a darkened Deboche we checked into Paradise Lodge. I have a few tiny criticisms of the name. It was too cold to consider as a place of nirvana, but the warm log fireplace gave glory, I guess. The twelfth Dal Bhat was adequate for filling the belly.

5th February 2019

Today’s walk bid farewell to trees somewhere just beyond Pangboche and touching Otso village. The trail is the first day of true discomfort. You adjust and pace yourself with much more care now. The air is getting noticeably thinner. You concentrate on slowing your pulse and breathing with more effectiveness. There is touch of anxiety about me. This is where in 2017, I reached. And not much higher.

Deboche to Pangboche and finally Dingboche (4410m) is a photographer’s dream. There are gompas, vast valleys, huge rockfalls, streams and views of Ama Dablam up close. Then, as you climb into the valley that holds Dingboche, you see the mountainous borders of China with Island Peak, and Nangkartshang looming overhead.

My sleep that night wasn’t bad. No headaches and a confidence that this would be the year. Maria wanted to go on today. I insisted that we acclimatise. Over-confidence can be your downfall. Breathing normally is on the cards for tomorrow. Dal Bhat the 13th, was certainly no nightmare. It would assist on the battle against altitude-related doom.

6th February 2019

Coaxing the morning breaths into a steady rhythm, I tucked away breakfast. Last night we met Rhys and Al, who had travelled from Wales to climb to Everest Base Camp for charity. This morning we set off together to go up the neighbouring mountain. Nangkartshang is an unwelcoming rocky mountain lined with grass at first sight. The walk started vigorously. Our bodies would need the climb up, feel the strain and then sleep low. Every step would soon be an exertion and the higher we went, the harder it felt. On reaching the summit and ledges, the views are out-of-this-world yet remind us that we are on this world and we’re quite small. The cold air and clash of bright warm light make for an up and down body temperature. I regret wearing the down jacket – yet later, I was thankful for this piece of clothing.

As we descend the valleys beneath us fill with cloud. It filters from many directions and eventually covers the sky blotting out the fading evening sun. Winter is coming, so they say and the next day we will wake to fine flakes of snow. Everyone at the lodge talks in whispers of a big snow storm in the region over the next three days. A couple, from China, who are descending talk about a Pyramid lodge to stay at. We take the details and set that as tomorrow’s aim. But will the snow be too much? At least the fourteenth helping of Dal Bhat would surely help get me there.

7th February 2019

Dingboche to Thukla started in light snow. The snow eventually faded yet the sky remained jaded. My cynical mind remained open to further snowfall. The great sweeping plains above Dingboche, lay beneath mountains to the right shoulder, and beneath my left shoulder, a drop down to the river valley below. The left side view of Taboche (6495m) and Cholatse (6440m) gave a dramatic slant to the world. Cho (lake), la (pass), tse (peak) are Tibetan words. They’re impressive peaks and highly photogenic. The ravine of the Khumbu glacier folds away as we ascend to Thukla (spelt in numerous ways, as always) and onwards to Lobuche. The climb is gradual and striking. There are remarkable pathways cutting through the snow. But, before the bigger climbs, we stop for lunch at Thukla.

Upwardly walking in clouds and snow is unearthly. It heightens your senses and brings the imagination out. Beyond the cloud could be a sunny day, Godzilla or the Manchester City reserve team. You have very little way of knowing. To quote Meat Loaf, ‘what you see, is what you get’.

The cloud lifted and a strange black square shape could be seen. From this parapet a stream of colourful flags fluttered down. They formed a line stretching to a shrouded stockade to my upper right side. These ramparts appeared to be stones stocked one upon another and squared off with rough edges. The first two stupas formed a gateway from the pathway leading up from Dughla.

To my left, the flag of New Zealand fluttered. Rob Hall, of the famous Adventure Colsuntants was marked here. From the 1996 climbing disaster on Everest was the Mountain Madness Everest Expedition leader Scott Fischer. Both bodies of these remain on the South Summit of Mount Everest. There are others from this and groups of other deadly climb attempts. There are touching tributes, grand notes and plaques. I tried to read as many as I could. I was spellbound. It was sad but also life-affirming. It made me ask questions and think things that I seldom think or have never thought. The cloud drifted out to reveal lines of cairns and stupas. Suddenly, I was in a living graveyard. I felt that I was in a dizzying field of tombs, like the iconic Sad Hill Mexican standoff (which was filmed in Spain) in the the movie The Good, The Bay & The Ugly. Dizzying is a word that I have used lightly before. On this occasion, it felt apt for my vertiginous and flighty state of mind. I thanked the Gods (all of them, that others respect and worship) for people remembering the fallen, doing the thing that loved the most. But, does anyone really want to die doing the things that they love?

More than 290 people have died attempting the Everest peak – or assisting those who climb it. Official statistics of deaths amongst the trekking population, that go to see Everest, are unknown. It is expected to be around 4-5 people a year, from altitude sickness. Crevasses, mountain sickness, being struck my your own icepick as you fall, avalanches, exhaustion, death by Serac, disappearance, falls, drowning, heart attacks, blood clotting, exposure to the elements, rope accidents, and others reasons for not wanting to climb Everest may have deterred me. For climbers, they must climb. Those lucky enough get to trek and explore wonderful places with blotched histories and wonderful moments. This is the spirit of nature. It takes and it gives.

On reaching Lobuche we step into the Oxigen Lodge and have a brew. We decide the snow is lighter and crack on for Pyramid. It should be around an hour away. Lobuche is a near barren wasteland. It is unwelcoming and borderline unfunctional. This town is notorious with early trekkers and climbers as being the place where everyone inhaled yak shit dust from early fireplaces. It has improved dramatically in recent years but still has a feel of drabness. The frozen toilets, a stream full of ice and a pocket in the snow with a dozen stray puppies gave an air of menace. Here you are expected to tolerate the simplest of simple accommodation – complete with ice. The trite options surrounded by inclines mark the start of the really, really dangerous glaciers – so we didn’t hang around too long.

After about 30 minutes we reached a ginnel, a short passageway to our left. Two clear signs pointed towards EvK2CNR and SHARE. It is possibly mothballed by the Italians, but it seems active. We walk the pathway for about 10 minutes. We had to cut through the reasonably deep snow. On arriving the squat brick building with a glass pyramid looked lifeless. On opening the door, it was far from lifeless. A dozen or so noisy Chinese voices mixed with a few western accents. We met Spanish Albert, Al and Rhys once again. Amongst the crowd were many friendly porters and guides. The lodge manager pointed us to the warmest room on the entire trail and apologised that the solar panels were too deep under snow, so the internal heaters were not working. It was more than comfortable. A bucket shower and all meals were inclusive – for 4000 NPRs per person, per night. That’s £26GBP or there abouts. Luxury in an amazing setting.

The Pyramid International Laboratory/Observatory is a high-altitude research centre. It has the aims of promoting sustainable development within mountainous areas. It is there to safeguard high altitude ecosystems. These areas for some of the most fragile in the changing world. There are works on the wall. I sit reading through them on eating Dal Bhat 15 and trying to find City’s score versus Everton away. The score flashes up. City’s title battle continues. Spanish Albert is also happy. His Barca team avoided defeat against Real Madrid.

#12 DEBOCHE 0830 – DINGBOCHE 1530 ~ 10km
#11 NAMCHE BAZAAR 1130 – DEBOCHE 1800 ~ 12km
#13 DINGBOCHE: Nangkartshang & back ~ 5km
#14 DINGBOCHE 0800 – PYRAMID ~ 11km

To be continued…

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr / Dhanyabaad / Alavidā

Breathe with me.

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment
You’re no good for me. I don’t need nobody. Don’t need no one that’s no good for me.
No Good (Start the Dance) – The Prodigy

Thanks to my school classmate James Cliff, in 1994, I was introduced to No Good (Start the Dance) by The Prodigy. In the following years Firestarter, Voodoo Power, Breath, Diesel Power and a host of othe tracks would be played on cassette, CD and nowadays on digital formats. Bass was essential. The Prodigy were far from being a Manchester band, but they filled the G-Mex (once again named Manchester Central) with ease. The thing with Manchester is that we know a good band – electronic, acoustic or so on. Music is in our soul. James Cliff copied me a tape of Music for the Jilted Generation. The next album, The Fat of the Land, was copied a few years after. This was an essential piece of the 1990s in music form. Big beat had arrived in style.

Exhale, exhale, exhale.

The Prodigy could be considered heavy by many, and by some, tribal. The early stuff was everything you believed and more. It added a punk dimension to the growing dance scene. Alternative, yet mainstream, in equal measures. You either loved it or hated it. I knew it was good music because my Mum appreciated it.

Yesterday Keith Flint was found dead. I’m sure the former Team Traction Control motorcycle race team owner, dancer and musician from London touched many lives through his output. It saddens me to see that The Prodigy’s website amongst other sources have stated that Keith Flint took his own life.

Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death globally. I can’t decide if it is brave, lonely, peaceful or a point of absolute detachment that feelings are so strong or weak, nothing matters. It must be the toughest decision in your life. The last act. All I know is that, the result, the ripples on the water, that runs far and wide. The sadness is very upsetting for all. Life is precious and beautiful. To lose someone is bad enough, but to lose someone who felt that was the only way is the worst feeling of all. We are not alone. You are not alone. I’d rather talk with a stranger and help them than hear about another suicide. That’s my selfish way. We need to talk more openly about the causes of suicide.

Desperation, mental health problems, and the will to die by your own hand need to be understood. Substance abuse, alcoholism, personality disorders and depression – and the ineffectivity of crisis lines are all open debate on how to solve suicides. The problem is that each case is so different, so individual and possibly simply complicated. Is assisted suicide humane? Is prevention of suicide inhumane? Completing suicide crosses moral, legal and religious boundaries – but ultimately it leaves absence. The ripples of the pool cast sadness.

Come play my game…

 

Keith Charles Flint (17 September 1969 – 4 March 2019)

Namche Bazaar (is the place to find me)

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste,

Yesterday I played 7-a-side football with my new team Dongguan Raiders F.C. Sporting our bright pink kits we had another victory. Our team has played three games this last week with two wins and one midweek friendly training game against Murray’s F.C. Our team has Chinese, Italian, Serbian, German and Ukrainian players – alongside the token Mancunian. On Saturday, I also joined Murray’s F.C. in our game at Zhuhai against the Guangzhou Phoenix team. We won 8-2. It now means a draw or win against Zhuhai, in Dongguan at the month shall be enough to claim the inaugural Guangdong Super League. Football shall move into the sidelines for me now. I have 88 days to train for my debut Spartan Race. I opted for the killer 13km Super option. That involves 25 obstacles too. It is a challenge. Am I ready? No. Will I be ready? I’ll do my best to be. The trekking in the Himalayas tested me mentally and I feel that anything is possible. The arrival of the next challenge is always welcoming. After that, I’ll need a new challenge. Suggestions please. Of course, I’m still looking back on the time spent in Nepal…

31st January 2019

One week of trekking was to completed today. The walk from Kharikhola, via the Karila Pass (2730m) to Paiya (2730m) started with a reasonably steep climb up towards Bupsa Danda. Here made for a good brew stop and somewhere to enjoy the view. From Kharikhola’s Magar people to panaromic views of valleys and looming landslides, to Sherpa settlements and the Bupsa Danda village itself, heaven could easily have been placed on this spot of Earth. The hilltop is delightful.

From there the trail is up and down, but really gently. In fact it is the closet to a day’s walk being flat on the entire wander so far, and later to come. It feels like deception. At the end of the walk, we settled down a for a night’s sleep in a lodge. Here we met a trekking nurse who volunteers in Nepal, having retired from work in Germany. Her partner and guide, from Nepal spoke German and they were accompanied by several porters. We spoke at great length about porters and guides leaving Nepal for better opportunities. He seemed quite aware that many Nepali people are trapped in Qatar. Political and visa issues have been a problem. He mentioned the reduction in porters has resulted in an explosion in the mule population. The destruction to the pathways in two years was clear to me. A country ravaged by natural disasters, civil war and political turmoil now had to contend with horse-donkey hybrids smashing up a great Himalayan trail.

1st February 2019

Leaving Paiya that morning we headed towards Surke. At Surke, Livia, Srirang and Ishwor went up to Lukla for supplies. We carried on up the pathway to Phakding (2610m) passing waterfalls, frozen streams and increasing numbers of lodges and houses. Around the sacred villages of Ghat, large boulders cast shadows over the pathways beneath. Some sported sproutings of trees and the odd leafless giant. Almost every rock had faces of lichens and bedcovers of moss. Beyond every short mountain towered ridges of snow-capped peaks. Eventually the trail met the main pathway from Lukla towards Everest Base Camp. Here we noted a huge difference in footfall. More people, more often. Now we were in the home straight. The business end of the greatest most popular and well known Himalyan trail. Also, those we passed by on their way up had some similarities. Most looked fresh and clean. Some had minor altitude exhaustion, having arrived a few thousand metres up at the modern and recently legendary Lukla airfield.

Under grey skies we plodded onwards. The pathways seemed to level on this day, and we stopped for lunch at a Sherpa family’s lodge. Reading the family’s walls of certificates and talking to the owners was quite interesting. The owners’ son is a pilot based at Kathmandu – on rescue helicopters. They regularly see him flying overhead. Their daughter is also overseas in Switzerland in the hospitality sector. Mountain people seldom leave the mountains, it seems.

From the moment we passed Surke to the upper levels of Phakding, the numbers of stupas, gompas, murals and mani stones seemed to explode. This region is known as extremely sacred. The Nepal version of the Etihad Stadium in Manchester. Many prayer wheels had been turned, so much so that my fingers became dirty from the dust. The clear signs of mules everywhere to be seen. The most obvious being the pathways under repair.

The modern looking Sherpa Guide Lodge was our stay that night in Phakding. We paid 3000NPRs for a shower each, twin room and food wasn’t much more on top. I’d seen this pine-looking wood and clean-cut brick building under construction two years ago. We were the only guests this time. The daughter of the owner was in charge. The next day she was due to head to Kathmandu to see her parents. The walls featured awards and commendations of her father’s achievements, photos of their family lifestyle and traditional prayers from Buddhism. It was a pleasant place to eat Dal Bhat number nine. The views of the near-Alpine looking region sat outside in total darkness. The roar of the river drifted away as I slipped into a deep untroubled sleep.

2nd February 2019

Phakding to Monjo (2835m) wasn’t too far. A few hours to the gateway to the UNESCO World Heritage Site that is Sagarmartha National Park. Having a gander at the monthly tourist record really shows how few people explore outside of the peak seasons (March-April & October-November). It also makes me feel like peak season may be a tad too busy to enjoy the freedom of the great trail.

As you enter the Khumbu subregion it isn’t hard to see why the Lonely Planet guide ranks it as the sixth best region to visit globally. This patch of northeastern Nepal has mountain scenery at every turn. Colourful Danfe birds resemble pheasants. The national bird can be seen amongst a whole host of colourful birds, mountain goats, musk deers, and other wildlife. The colourful guesthouses fell away as we entered the park, having paid our 3000 NPRs and a deposit of 1000 NPRs for a new tracking GPS card. Good idea. Less lost people in the Himalayas. Over one of the Dudi Kosi river’s many footbridges and we pass through Jorsalle (2740m), stopping at the last hut overlooking a river below. Here some yummy foods were required. The final hike upwards after luch would be near brutal. Over another bridge, we crossed down onto the river-accompanying pathway, up to some steep scary steps, and then to the final bridges looking up at the Namche pathway. Up the valley, Everest, Lhotse and a face of mountains hid away in clouds. We wouldn’t be seeing their beauty on this day, but Oasis sang, someday we’ll find a brighter day.

The Dudi Kosi river flows from the Mount Everest massif, just east of Gokyo Lakes and flows south, beneath Namche Bazar before heading west of Lukla. It was the same river heard during a night’s sleep at Phakding. Each bridge over the river seemed to always be occupied by flowing mule caravans. They were a bit pongy.

One last push, up the brow and around into the horsehoe-valley of Namche Bazaar (3441m), some energy was needed. Posters for the last edition of the Tenzing Hilary Everest Marathon and stickers offering all manner of expedition group, from nations so numerous the writing and logos blurred into a mesh of hieroglyphics. The downhill marathon is held every May 29th. Count me out. The maximum entry is 250. I’ll let those who want it, have a crack.

Over the last few hundred metres of walk, we met Nawang Chhiring Sherpa. He said that his lodge, Mt. Kailash Lodge, was free to stay at as long as we ate our meals there. He wasn’t pushy and seemed quite welcoming. As he guided a Taiwanese couple up the hill, we talked a little with them. Maria now had Mandarin-speaking company. An easy decision, and in hindsight one with zero regret. We would spend a total of two nights there on the way up and one on the way down. We’d recommend it to everyone too. Srirang, Ishwor and Livia joined us for the second night. The room wasn’t too cold too. Dal Bhat TEN was yummy with a crunchy prawn cracker on the side.

3rd February 2019

If ever I run away to get away from it all and not tell anyone where I am heading, then Namche Bazaar is the place to find me. I’d consider it the picture-perfect position to retire too. This morning, after a full belly, we had coffee and hired some thick down jackets. Following that we enjoyed a leisurely stroll up to the Everest View Hotel. The first of our altitude acclimatisation days was neither taxing nor boring. With lunch at the Everest View Hotel we peered through limited gaps in the clouds at Everest itself, Lhotse and Ama Dablam. To the east the tips of Thamserku (6623m) permeated from the drifting clouds. We’d walked by the sprawling grass runway of a near-silent Syangboche Airport and by yaks patrolling the high pathways. Through snow-lined fields and up a ridge to the mansion-like stairway of the grand hotel.

Thamserku is one of my favourite mountains to observe. Thronged by trees until around the 4000m mark, it was littered with snow and rocks thereafter. It has two almost identical peaks that resemble little horns. It is bulky and broad. With throngs of cloud circling high up, it is very atmospheric.

Excitement seemed to erupt from nowhere. Here I was looking up at vultures! Actual vultures gliding over away from dark cloud, towards gaps in the lighter cloud. Very much like Pterodactyls flying in a Jurassic Park movie, their broad wingspan effortlessly glided into the thickening clouds. Almost as soon as the elation began, it was over. The descent to the Sherpa Life Museum was swift and easy. The museum itself was interesting and full of photos. The colourful way of the Sherpa people is finely illustrated – and it also includes a mountaineering room with photos of those who have scaled summits throughout the region.

The charm of Namche Bazaar is multi-layered. West of the village is Kongde Ri (6187m) and other rolling hills around the basin of the village. Thamserku (6623m) looms to the east. The horseshoe-shaped village sits across many layers. It is almost as if someone carved the land to face the sun at sunset. Through the village centre sits recently renovated water features and statues. The eyes of the stupa face in four directions with helicopter pads in almost every direction. There are buildings of old rock, and timber structures amongst inconspicuous and understated concrete builds. The unobtrusive nature of man in the elements of nature and the rhythm of life is throughout the grounds. Cows and stray dogs walk the narrow passages. The silk road feels more short-gauntlet and less mammoth-journey here. Around 2000 people live here at the busiest point of year, yet during deep to late winter it feels sleepy and at rest. Save for helicopters and freight cargo flights, little sound of machines can be heard. Dal Bhat XI sat in my sleeping belly, ready to power the next new day.

#7 KHARIKHOLA 0900 – PAIYA 1730: ~ 7km.
#8 PAIYA 0900 – PHAKDING 1730: ~ 10km.
#9 PHAKDING 0800 – NAMCHE BAZAAR 1630: ~ 7km.
#10 NAMCHE BAZAAR – EVEREST VIEW HOTEL & GENERAL WANDER: ~ 10km

 

To be continued…

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr / Dhanyabaad / Alavidā

 

 

Lamjura La II: The Return

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste,

 

 

27th January 2019

In some ways the challenge of Lamjura La made me feel nervous. Last time round, it was not easy (see 2017’s post entitled Toils and rewards). Departing Sete (2900m) with a belly full of breakfast we started the walk at 0640hrs. The murky morning unveiled valleys below us and a clear pathway upwards. Rays of sunshine shit out from dark clouds covering Pikey Peak mountain and snow lay on the higher grounds that we approached. The cardamom plantation and streams by Kinja were long behind us. Chimbu village’s primary school squatted in a small area above the pathway but squeezed so tightly to the mountainside that a playground seemed barely possible.

A steady rhythm of one foot after the other didn’t matter. The most appropriate adjective is relentless. It is a tough, tough day. Moss-lined forests broke away and eventually a small hamlet appeared. By 0840 we arrived in Dakchu and spent half an hour so eating omelette and enjoying the view. After leaving the Sonam Guest House’s quick servce and reasonable prices, we headed off. The steam on the roof of the guesthouse, made way for a few rooftops of snow, and many places coated in the cold white stuff. Here the road reappeared and swept over the pathway time and time again. The snow went from light, to knee-deep quickly. A sudden drop down for twenty or so metres revealed an icy lake. Soon, we were heading uphill again. The mani stones became caked in snow. With the brighter sunshine, it wasn’t too cold. We stopped for another brew and snuggled two cute puppies. Beyond that we had yet another rise to clamber up. The trees became taller, wider and sparse of green leaves. The ancient landscape could have filled a Tolkein-fantasy novel.

Passing a stack of flat-packed wood, it seemed the same browny-grey cat was there exactly two years ago. The dramatic landscape smoothed off and we were at the start of the pass. The first few huts and buildings were crumbling. Spirit levels not included. The new road swallowed the original pass. This was for once, a good thing. The old pathway was narrow. The new pathway didn’t feel like the earth would fall away, despite the near waist-deep snow. Here, I had to add my thick snow gloves. The shadow of the mountain added extra chill to the occasion.

It was 1600hrs and we were in deep snow – and hungry. One single lodge, on Lamjura La, was open, high up at 3530m. We ate fried macaroni with rice and drank piping hot black tea. It was needed. The giddy puppy darting back and forth made it more of a game than a meal. The dog’s owners, a young family with a very young baby in a box, affixed to the head by a rope headband. Soon after we started eating Ishwor, Srirang and Livia arrived. After they drank and we had finished our reunion, we set out into the deep snow. Alongside us was an 80-year old Sherpa woman and her granddaughter.

We trudged slowly through our newly cut snow pathways for an hour or so to the final edge of the pass (3530m). Here a closed house, that I had black tea and a chocolate bar last time round, stood closed. The drift of snow covered one side. We took the odd photo here and eventually began our descent. The warm fire of the last lodge was now a distant memory. Light ws fading fast. Snow and hail began to shower down on us. The moss-covered trees on a rapidly steep descent hid the pathways below. The furrows and tracks resembled that of a toboggan run. Forest firs and rhododendrons cast out little sound and the air felt still despite a roaring blizzard rolling over the treetops. After a lifetime of torch-waving and some twists and turns below forest canopy, the pathway emerged by a few small houses. Many more steps were needed before the glow of the village of Junbesi could be seen in the valley below. I was at the point of utter exhaustion. Thirsty and without a single drop of water from the two litres available.

After some painful final few kilometres in a timeframe that seemed not to end, we arrived at Junbesi (2700m). The Apple Lodge made us dal bhat (#5) immediately after we arrived close to 2100hrs. Food was in the belly and an aborted attempt at a hot shower was had. The water was 60°C or 0°C – and could not be set between. In bed we all went, shattered.

28th January 2019

The following morning, Linda reported her blisters and some minor foot injuries. Livia and Srirang were knackered. Ishwor joined them for a rest day and another British couple, who had attempted Pikey Peak strolled by and said hello. A light lunch and by 1400hrs, Maria and I carried on, but not too far. At the Everest View Hotel, there was a view of clouds and a warm ginger tea to be had. Still we gently walked on, until reaching the Sherpa village of Solung at 1730hrs. Here was stopped for a brew, to be told that the pathway ahead was firmly frozen and a nightmare to pass. We accepted an invitation to stay at a Sherpa family’s home. Nawang and his wife Pupa lived with one of their three daughters. The 31 years old daughter cooked for us. They had attended a Sherpa wedding with Pupa’s older sister. The wedding procession was going on as far as Kharikhola village. Nawang was a former guide and porter. He claimed to be 80 years old but seemed much younger. From their farm came fresh milk, great vegetables and yummy eggs. Dal bhat number 6 was delicious. The best, so far, and in hindsight, the best overall.

Stories of Nawang’s hiking days, Sherpa lifestyle and the village’s culture stretched to quite late. With a frehs glass of hot milk in our bellies, we retired to the bedroom. The house, from the outside looked like a British detached two-up, two down. Downstairs half of the building served as an agricultural place and the other hald as a washroom/tool shed. Upstars the kitchen area had beds for four and the main social area. A second room, without curtains over the window (there is no invasive streetlighting), and a huge poster to the Tibetan flag and Dalai Lama stood. Maria, from China slept under that. I had the cool air drifting on over me from the window frame. Still it was a pleasant enough place to sleep. Very homely.

29th January 2019

The morning light crept through the windows. A cracking chapati with egg breakfast and wonderful milk tea set the day up well. We bid our farewell to the lovely Sherpa family and began the trek down to the villages of Ringmu. The ankle high bench of the previous lodge’s stay was a pleasant memory by now, as aches returned to pleasantly conditioning legs. I didn’t miss the playful grey cat that scratched my left hand as I slid into my sleeping bag though.

On this day the snowy peaks started to appear far closer. Ice lined waterfalls and melted under glorious beams of brightness. Numerous abandoned building ruins stood side by side their replacement housing. The scars of the 2015 earthquakes visible all over. Into a valley we walked, with huge prayer paintings that Google probably took inspiration from for its logo choice. Over a bridge meant one clear thing. The downward trend of the morning’s walk was now going to be an uphill strain. No pain, no gain – as they say. Passing orange-bellied rustic bird foraging in the damp dry ground a plateau revealed a dramatic landscape with fields towered over by nearby Himalyan peaks.

On finishing a brew in Ringmu, we passed by a ruined ghompa and mani stones. It looked dramatic on my last visit – but this visit it was surrounded by patches of scattered snow. Here we began the ascent to Taksindu (3000m) and walked through a monastery gate atop the peak, before a reasonable incline towards Taksindu monastery. The monastery looks shiny, bright and new. It was mostly a building site two years ago. On passing here, after a Mountain Man nutrition bar, the snow set in. Fearing a blizzard we moved down the mountain side at a steady pace, struggling over icy lips and frozen mud. Flocks of birds swept close to the ground, foraging whilst they could. At 1500hrs we arrived in Nunthala (2330m). A lodge was selected, one of two open in the sleepy village. Almost as soon as we dropped our things in the third-floor room, the snow stopped. Soon after a snow-swept Linda joined us with a French guy resembling Floki from the TV series Vikings. Dal bhat number 7 was greatly appreciated. Here we met a Bulgarian man, heading back from Everest Base Camp, who warned of serious levels of snow and struggles ahead. Nothing a warm brew couldn’t fix.

30th January 2019

The day had been intended to be a long one, ending in Bupsa Danda, but why rush things? From Nunthala we left at 0900hrs. A late lunch around 2pm was had in Kharikhola (2040m). Scarcely an hour later and we set down for the night at the Tashi Delek lodge (meaning hello in the Sherpa language), in the same village. We’d spent just under an hour dropping books with the Classrooms in The Clouds-supported Kharikhola Secondary School (with an attached tiny primary school). We’d even ate lunch at the Headmaster’s family home and met his son, and engineer of the mechanical kind. His friend was also an engineer, set to travel to U.S.A. to further his studies. After being shown their school grounds, a library and their new primary school buildings, we took some photos together and bid farewell. We walked a whole 250 metres in the village before meeting Srirang and Livia with Ishwor. We bunkered down for the night.

Classrooms in The Clouds have a short but rich history in Nepal. They prove that donations can make a real difference. £8.00 makes a day’s salary for a teacher. £10.00 will find three Nepali books. £15 will find three reusable menstrual kits for young women in school. Aside from sounding like just a charity appeal, they deliver. Their mouths put money and resource into action. Their expertise works with Nepali parteners, on the ground, focusing on education support, great quality new classrooms, teacher sponsorship and community work. They support their partners and their teachers. They have linked to the Cheshire Fire and Rescue Service. If students can study and leave school with the School Leaving Certificate needed, then Nepal will reinforce from within. At places such as Lukla, Bakhapalam, Majhgaun and Kharikhola. My feeling is that, every kid needs to experience school. How can we inspire without a pathway? The early Everest expeditions gave us the gift of some of the finest Himalayan trail to tread upon. This gift needs repaying. Think global, act local? Ecotourism is more than not bringing food from home. Bring something rewarding and leave a place better. Just like picking litter up at the beach. There’s a classroom in the clouds just waiting to be imagined.

That day had been interspersed by numerous mule trains and lots of inhaled dust. The trail has been battered in the last two years. A quaint lodge at the foot of a hill from Nunthala had made way for a mud-spattered filthy mule resting point. Many plants including various fruits and vegetables could be seen today. The contrast between temperate, arid and mountaineous climates was very clear. The splashings of colour, the blue skies and the icy mountain peaks give a sensual overload to the eyes. Dreams could be seen here and there.

In the evening, we met Srirang, Ishwor and Livia. We ate Dal bhat number 8 and talked the evening away, occasionally pinching a look at the clear sky full if stars outside – and the Milky Way lines. Not a bad way to hit the icy cold pillow, as the walk up Bupsa Danda loomed overhead.

#3 SETE 0640 – JUNBESI 2100: ~ 15km.
#4 JUNBESI 1400 – SOLUNG 1740 / #5 SOLUNG 0830 – NUNTHALA 1500: ~ 17km.
#6 NUNTHALA 0900 – KHARIKHOLA 1500: ~8km 

 

To be continued…

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr / Dhanyabaad / Alavidā

Johnny Marr is in Sete.

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste,

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16th February 2019

Boarding the Yeti Airlines flight, under the colours of Tara Airlines, I lifted my feet onto the steps. The DHC-6 Twin Otter at Tenzing–Hillary Airport stared vacantly and without emotion at the asphalt. The 11.7% gradient didn’t faze the lifeless tincan with wings. Nor did the altitude of 2,845m (9,334ft). Many surprised and excited voices could be heard. Some had landed here on the journey. None of my accompanying 11 passengers had made this take-off. The pilots, with their minimum of 100 short-takeoff-and-landing (STOL) had. Thankfully. The excitement of my first flight from here came back. I sat back, looked out the window and enjoyed the moment. In less than the full length of the 527m (1729ft) of runway, it was over too soon. It had begun what seemed like only yesterday.

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22nd January 2019

Returning to Kathmandu gave me an oddly warm feel. It was familiar territory and a place that has acted as a gate for many journeys. Early expeditions to map the region started in the 1850s and continued as such until 1953, when a beekeeper called Edmund Hilary arrived with Tenzing Norgay, and around 400 men – including porters, guides and mountaineers. Anyway, here I was, once again, at the brickwork of Tribhuvan International Airport (1,388m/4,390ft) and passing the cremation grounds of the Pashupatinath Temple. The holy (to Buddhists and Hindus) Bagmati river flowed under a severe-angled concrete bridge as the hotel pick-up car drifted over it. Many bodies have had a triple-dip into that river prior to cremation. The chief mourner also takes a quick dip before setting his or her lost relative on fire. Relatives also bathe. If the Bagmati river purifies them the source in the Letter Himalayas must be the reasoning. Somewhere downstream of the source, inside Kathmandu itself is the Tukucha Khola tributary. The sewage levels are unbelievable. The city’s eight rivers are sad sights in many places.

As the Hotel Horizon car rumbled into Thamel, over less-than-smooth tarmac, I noted that the central entertainment and shopping area was now closed to cars other than taxis or those with right of way. A wise move. The streetworks that had been taking place when I left in January 2017 had been completed and smoother tarmac took hold on two or three streets. The rest was a tad muddy. New Road (another shopping district) and a road approaching Thamel looked almost new or refurbished since my last visit. My initial thoughts were surprise and pleasure in seeing Kathmandu’s partial regeneration.

At Hotel Horizon, Deveraj, the manager, that I had met on my last trip and since kept in touch informed me of a possible jeep to Shivalaya village or even as far up the trek as Phaplu. I didn’t fancy going so far up the route. Villages such as Sete and Kinja, not to mention the challenge of Lamjura La (a pass at over 3500m high) were great memories. So, I agreed to a jeep to Shivalaya, missing Jiri out completely. The bus journey last time was uncomfortable and numerous accounts show that some dangerous rides have been had. Part of me didn’t want that. How bad could a jeep journey be?

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24th January 2019

Departing at 7am, following a day of last-minute provision buying, our car departed. The backseats of the jeep, covered in a carpet, had no seatbelts. The driver was jolly but not a huge conversationalist, however, the journey was pleasant enough. By pleasant, I mean, he steered away from sheer drops and perpendicular plunges. He gave us a break here and there, about 30 minutes in total throughout nine hours of driving. The intense and terrifying journey comes with 100-metre or so vertical gravity-testing points here and declines that I for one decline to experience. Burned out wreckages of buses, cars and flat-packed former vans can be seen like rare leaf-litter. Not rare enough to ignore. Frequent enough to add as landmarks. Without a crowd of people, animals and baggage, the jeep was mildly more comofortable than the bus journey.

At least we weren’t taking our morning exercise running along the dusty Kathmandu smog-filled roads, like many groups of school students and the ever-numerous morning traffic. Over time the Kathmandu valley fell-away and we went up and down the Lower Himalayas on the Tibet-bound highway. The double-laned road occasionally filtered into a narrow single-laned road. Often our pathways went above cloud levels and passed signs of roadway expansions with Nepal advancing new bridges between communities previously cut off. Wide gorges, huge valleys, glacial stonebeds, and tree-lined foothills baked in sunshine could be seenm throughout. Clouds broke away to reveal sunshine and the traffic lessened with every kilometre covered. Soon, the odd bike and very odd car was noticed. In the final few hours as we neared Jiri, new concreted roads, patched in places broke away into muddy tracks and back to smooth concrete lanes. At Jiri we stopped, to check the road to Shivalaya was open. It was – despite very heavy rain the day before.

On arriving at Shivalaya (1770m), sunset was fast approaching. Knuckling down at the Kala Patthar lodge, enjoying the second dal bhat of the journey, the excitement set in. I stood outside for a moment by that first blue bridge of my previous Nepal trek. It felt good to be back. Eating in the lounge, with doors wide open, and cool fresh air drifting in, Maria and I met Srirang and his porter-guide-friend Ishwor. At that time, we didn’t know that we’d share parts of the journey, but here we were, an Indian, a Nepali Sherpa, a Chinese and a Mancunian. Talking with the lodge proprietor Padam Jirel, we were introduced to his son and daughter, their local schoollife and the family home. A warm night’s sleep followed a few chapters of Jonny Marr’s Set the Boy Free.

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25th January 2019

In the morning breakfast consisted of chapati, eggs and porridge. Waking up to a misty valley around the quaint village of Shivalaya (27°36’25.7″N 86°17’53.4″E) added extra emotion to the air. The feelings in my mind weren’t far off those that swpt over me in January 2017. Registering for the Gaurishankar Conservation Area & National Park and handing over NPRs, the trek began in Dolakha District, Province Number 3. Longleaf Indian pine trees, rhododendrons, alien-looking Woolly-leaved oak trees and other temperate forest species lined the mountain climbs. Within only a few hundred metres of walking and an elevation gain of not much, a few breathers were needed. The respites were quite often. My knees ached. My feet strained. The pauses and rests weighed on my mind. Had two years aged me so much that I could no loger climb or walk in the Himalayas? I tried to focus on seeing Himalayan Thars, red pandas and part of me would have welcomed a Himalayn black bear. It could have made a comfortable seat with a cuddle.

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After a wee while, a brew was needed. At this point, we’d hooked up with Srirang and Ishwor, and as we went to stop, a striding brunette with large eyes strode up, sporting two natural trekking poles of bamboo. Introductions were had, and now Linda (U.S.A.) joined us for a brief while. Soon after meeting Linda, just before Deurali Bazar (2800m), we met Livia (carrying a house or two worth of weight on her back) and at this snow-threatened top we ate lunch. The snow-dusted rooftops of a dozen closed buildings faced a lovely modern and bright façade on the chosen lodge for lunch. The cat and dog in a state of stalemate over territory and positioning were both equally cute. Srirang gave both some noodles. The lunch hour was a more than welcome hiatus. That reduced the amount of meowing and sniffing for food greatly. On full bellies, we headed downwards towards the village of Bhandar (2100m) under the cover of thick heavy grey clouds.

#1: SHIVALAYA 0830 – BHANDAR 1730: ~12km.

In the evening, at my second stay in Shobha Lodge, the great owner and her family cooked us a delicious dal bhat (#3 of the journey) and Maria roasted some small potatoes on a fire outside. A jolly evening was had and lots of conversation with Linda, Livia and Srirang revealed their reasons for hiking this trail. I stood looking at the buildings around this lodge. Two years ago, most were serious ruins. Now many appeared rejuvenated. Against one such building a red rose stood in shadows against a dark wintry sky.

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26th January 2019

The next morning gave bright light and some showered upon footing, but the weather wasn’t bad all day. We set out as a band of six, downwards with the destination aim being Sete. After crossing a delightful vale with a wooden bridge, here the old pathway faded and became swept over or completely consumed by a new carved out road, unpaved and muddy as hell. Every now and then you’d resume the old pathways, but quite often the new road zigzagged the old meandering ways. Soon after passing a small waterfall, I slipped on loose earth where the old met the new path. The devris flung over rocks and coating the unclar pathway made me twist my left knee, striking it on a rock and bending my leg in a way that my right hamstring brought my other leg under my back and bag. I tentatively stood up. I suspected in that moment that the rambling was over. After the shock, I carried on, carefully and slowly. Warning taken. As the path neared Kinja, it broke into a fork. The right fork headed to the muddy and dusty new road. The left fork appeared a tad overgrown. Linda, Maria and I carried on left. After 400 metres, the path disappeared. A chasm with the new road was presented before us. In the end we doubled back and scrambled down the right fork onto the road but the latter section was pretty messy and difficult to get over.

 

The walk into Kinja, was terrible compared with the route two years ago. The road has dismembered too many houses, farms and forested areas. A new hydro-electric plant in a mine has added to the dichotomised region. Many of the crumbling earthquake buildings have vanished. The two new bridges are seldom used. The old wooden bridge is sealed off. The new road dam-cum-bridge allows easy footing into Kinja but feels like a building site. Work in progress may mean new logistical advantages and easier access but it will probably deter hikers. It was now 1300hrs, so at Kinja we stopped for lunch over an hour’s break. The Riverside guest house and restaurant had a sky blue and white sign. What’s not to like about Manchester City colours? Oh, and it had a western toilet, of sorts. It was a ceramic squat hole.

With lunch in our bellies, the climb up from Kinja (1630m) was long and hard but easier than the previous day. The aches of yesterday faded and early conditioning of muscles was felt. Rays of sunshine, refurbished ruins and new settlements lined the upward pathway. The rise steadied and fields of green, shaped like steps leapt out from the hillsides. If enough coins could be found, it’d resemble a penny-arcade machine of the greatest scale. As light faded, we arrived in Sete. Dal Bhat (#4) was served. The Sunrise Lodge was once again my place to stay, in the Sete (2900m).

BHANDAR 0930 – SETE 1800: ~15km.

In the village of Sete, I left my Johnny Marr autobiography copy. I Set the Boy Free. So, if you haead to the Sunrise lodge, expect to find the illuminous green cover. And like me, you’ll find it hard to put it down. The former Talking Heads, Black Grape, Kirsty MacColl, Brian Ferry and Billy Bragg collaborator worked with Pet Shop Boys, Beck, Modest Mouse, andmovir composer Hans Zimmer. Not bad for a Mancunian born and raised in the supposed rougher parts of our fair city. Actually, the boy did good, working with Hulme-born Billy Duffy, having a great connection to Portland throughout his expansive and colourful music life – and being not far from where we both witnessed City’s 3-2 win over QPR on that day. Playland is one of my favourite albums ever. The marathon man was also in a lesser-known band called The Smiths. Anyway, just beyond the multi-layered poster on the wall, featuring Barmouth Bridge, that’s where Johnny’s book is.

 

To be continued…

 

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr / Dhanyabaad / Alavidā

My first A to Z of Nepal Trekking

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

Before I write something about the adventure, here’s a useless guide of sorts.

 

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A is for adventure. The Himalayas has long been the stalking-ground of explorers, wildlife and nature enthusiasts. There is something there for everyone, be they seeking ecstasies, peace or tranquillity. Beware of altitude sickness and similar things. See B for be careful.

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B for be careful. Altitude kills. Many people are born in low climes. Their bodies, our bodies and even some people born higher up need to be careful. Don’t assume that the oxygen levels of onme highland or mountainous region are the same as another. Trek high, sleep low. Drink loads of water. Descend for any health changes. You can always ascend later. AMS (acute mountain sickness) is your body’s way of saying, “hey you, I need oxygen.” Headaches, vomiting, tiredness, sleeping problsm and dizziness are the initial alarmbells. BEWARE of high altitude cerebral edema (HACE) and high altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE). These will end your holiday trek – and maybe your life. Gradual descent and added fluids really help. It affects around 40% of people that hit 3000 metres of altitude. Just go slower. Signs can also include swollen faces, hands, pins and needles, a rapid pulse, a dry cough, and fevers. Your brain needs oxygen – and your muscles use much oxygen. Between 3500m and 5500m it is classes as very high altitude. Oxygen drops below 90% saturation in air. After this altitude, you’re in the extreme altitude zone – and guess what, there are minor fluctuations, atmospheric pressures, jetstreams, etc that can affect your pre-acclimatization and actual altitude acclimatization. Acending 300m a day is a good rule, and slepping lower than you walk, a golden rule. Acetazolamide (AKA Diamox) are available but be careful with this too.

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C is for climbing. Trekking from Jiri to Everest Base Camp and Kalapathar involves, “little bit up, little bit down. Nepal flat” as one local guy said on his t-shirt slogan. It doesn’t mention rock scrambling, craghopping or climbing. Be prepared for the odd hazardous leap up or down the surface of a landslide affected pathway or embankment.

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D is for danger. It is everywhere but easily avoided by not being a fool. Also, delightful is a word to describe every day.

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E is for Everest. Many are fixated on it. The size is spectacular but Lhotse, Kala Patthar, Changtse, Nuptse, Cho La, Gokyo Ri, Pumori, Imjha Lake, Pheriche, and the 5083m viewing point of Nangkartshang (27.90400°N / 86.83370°E) are well worthy of views. Makalu, Taboche (6495m) and Cholase (6501m), Cho Oyu (8188m) and Ama Dablam (6812m) are visible from the latter. The glacial lake at Dughla (4620m) is spectacular. The village of the same name sits a little higher up the valley.

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F is for flying. Many people fly to Lukla Airport via a domestic airline. Yeti, Sita, and Tara airline. Look out flying vultures and various other birds. You’ll feel like you are flying when you walk above the clouds.

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G is for go. Go around October and November or March and April for the best likely weather. It is the busiest time too. December to February are classed as extreme winter. June to September sees monsoons. I’ve only ever been in January 2017/2019 and February 2019. Whilst cold, I have enjoyed great times.

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H is for happy. You will be.

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I is for ice. See S for Shit/ice/mud/dust.

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J is for juice. Try as mauch fruit and juice in the lower valleys. You’ll love it.

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K, you know. Know as much as you can before, and learn as much as you can whilst there.

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L Litter is a problem. Take it with you. Leave only footprints. Tell anyone you see dropping white rabbit sweet wrappers, or cigarette boxes etc to do so too.

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M Mule trains/caravans: Wait at bridges. Wait on steep bends. Wait often between Nunthala and Namche Bazaar. Cover your mouth. Stand on higher ground, where possible. Stay safe. Take photos. Respect these beasts that are over-worked, under-rested and live a shorter-than-expected lifespand. They work damned hard and have fast taken the vacancies from emigrating porters throughout the region.

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N Namaste: The friendly greeting should be spoken to everyone and anyone encountered. It is friendly and polite, a well-wishing of kind and also a brilliant ice-breaker for opening unexpected conversations. You can walk the walk, and I guarantee after using this simple word, you’ll be talking the talk with many interesting locals. Try also, Tashi Delik to Sherpa people.

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O is for “Oh my…” – used in phrases like, “Oh my gosh!” and so on. The Himalayas provide awesomeness that is too big for wording, yet we do our best to under-exaggerate the true overwhelmingly breath-taking tremendousness of the vastly remarkable and astounding landscape.

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P People: The mountains are home to various ethnic groups. Across Nepal there are around 125 different ethnicities. Don’t assume that everyone is Sherpa. There are increasingly numbers of people crossing former racial boundaries. Be polite, inquisitive and learn as you go about the different groups of people.

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Q is for quarry. You may be prey for a tiger or leopard but their frequency is low so don’t worry. You’re more likely to fall into a quarry (pit) created by the new road network from Jiri to just past Nunthala (at the time of writing).

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R is for rucksack. Some people say backpack, but they probably also call a pavement sidewalk. Rucksacks are essentially a daily nuisance and a massive help. The bother of carrying things that you probably don’t need does not outweigh the joy of finding something useful for just one essential moment. You can never have enough gloves. Red tape can be found in buying a Sagarmatha National Park permit is required – 1000RS (about $11.50, US dollars). A local permit for Lukla upwards. Dingboche even has a local set price of 500NPRS per day if you stay there.

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S Shit/ice/mud/dust: the surfaces that you walk on are rocky and hazardous at best. To make matters more fun in winter, ice and snow are added. The constant flow of mule and yak-hybrid trains (or caravans, as they are more commonly known) gives extra traction-resistance to your shoes. Your boots or footwear will be tested in ways that gravity wants to work on you. Big falls, patches of black ice and jolly stinking puddles of mule piss await. A dustmask for the drier trails is advised, otherwise your nostrils will have black sticky dry mucus galore.

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T is for trekking poles: Be careful. They damage pathways – but they also steady footing. The new Nordic pole fashion of walking works extra muscles, bums and tums, etc. Third pole refers to the glacial arrangement and icy landscape of the Himalayas. Some predict an expiration date by the year 2100 (C.E.). Enjoy it whilst you can!

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U is for “unfortunately”. “Unfortunately, the weather is no longer clear. You can’t see Everest.” Expect clouds in the mountains during summer and winter. I met Rhys from Wales who planned to make a panoramic photo of Kalapathar with just clouds around the 360-degree view. This would be a stark contrast of the usual clear 360-degree pan of peaks and gorges beneath.

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V is for voles. There are plenty on the trail and some pop their heads out just long enough to be seen by trekkers.

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W is weather. Respect it. Each mountain can create its own microclimate and the whole region can change from sunny and clear in one minute to blizzards and monsoons in the next.

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X is for xylophone: I didn’t see one. There are many interesting musical instruments in Nepal. Try to hear a few in action and the local songs too. Folk music in the heart of the Himalayas adds extra feeling to the beautiful tones of music. X-rays are avoidable – but falls do happen so take great care not to visit a hospital, or health post on the walk.

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Y Yaks: Yak trains/caravans are plentiful between Namche Bazaar and up to Dingboche. They struggle below 3000metres of altitude. The very odd one can be found lower down the valleys but they’re rare. Y is also for yeti. I didn’t see a single yeti but Pangboche Monastery has a skull, hand and a multitude of stories about said mythical creature. In my opinion, an unvalued one at best, it makes sense that an ape-like animal of Orangutan, gorilla or chimpanzee origin or likeness once filled the higher terrain of the Himalayas. Either way, it is a mystery yet to be disproven.

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Z is for ZZZZzzzzzz: It always is. In winter, sleeping early is great and waking up may well be cold, but it is most rewarding. A good rest is advisable especially when your muscles feel fatigued. Remember, that your muscles need oygen and carbohydrates. Don’t skimp on providing them either. As you get higher in altitude, manage your muscles and sleep well.

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再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

Favourite Flicks

oyster28catcher (JRA)2 Comments

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

In 2019, Velvet Buzzsaw, starring Jake Gyllenhaal arrives on general release in February. The arty feel of the trailer made me think of some of my favourite movies. I also gandered a dozen other trailers, include Men In Black International, which in its first edition was refreshing and great fun. Pet Sematary as a remake excites me too. Hellboy as yet another remodelling seems okay too. It does make me think that new ideas for Hollywood are limited but you’ll still see me watching Godzilla: King Of The Monsters in May. Triple Frontier, The Mustang and Bird Box follow tested formulas and throw in solid casts, but they carry much anticipation. I do like a good movie though. In 2020, maybe Ghostbusters 3 will be marvelous – with the teaser adding familiar noises and music. Who knows?

In 1993, Jurassic Park was my first truly antipcated movie. I’d been glued to the novel years before and now I wanted to see the words on the big screen. Mum and I went to the Davenport Cinema near Stockport. The cinema has since been demolished. I remember that the screen was massive, and the old theatre style was beautiful. It had become too expensive to maintain. I grew up having watched few movies, unless you count Dot and The Kangaroo. Movies rarely interested me. Watership Down had probably freaked me out too much – and then The Plague Dogs – too much you know, erm, grimness. At least the former had a great song!

Movies that I like that are probably on almost everyone’s list include: Braveheart, Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, The Silence of the Lambs, Titanic, Toy Story, Schindler’s List, The Lion King, The Shawshank Redemption, Fight Club, Groundhog Day, Heat, Fargo, 10 Things I Hate About You, Trainspotting, Brassed Off, The Fugitive, Goldeneye, Mrs Doubtfire, Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window, Goodfellas, Forrest Gump, The Green Mile, Bad Boys, The Iron Giant, and Con Air. I’m sure you can pick this entire collection up on DVD for less than £10 now. I watched Saving Private Ryan with my Granddad. It was the only time I seen him cry. The realism was all too much for someone who had seen it up close and personal.

Do you believe in UFOs, astral projections, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, telekinetic movement, full-trance mediums, the Loch Ness Monster and the theory of Atlantis?

In 1984, the world had new heroes. The Ghostbusters. Just like 1984’s Gremlins, 1990‘s Gremlins 2: The New Batch, 1985‘s Goonies and 1989‘s Ghostbusters 2, I had a winter’s day movie. Great entertainment and fun, that you can watch time and time again, are hard to come by in a movie. Flash Gordon sits in there too, alongside the Back to The Future trilogy. From my year of birth, 1982‘s E.T. – the Extra Terrestrial is on that list but give me a tissue. A tissue to watch 1942‘s Bambi too. From 1988 onwards, The Naked Gun triology just requires a light-hearted laugh. 1980‘s Blues Brothers wins on that count too.

‘Little Sir Echo, how yo you do?’ – Bing Crosby, 1939

Night Train to Murder starred Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise and came out in 1985. It was written by the comedy duo too, alongside the original James Bond Casino Royale director Joseph McGrath. Well one of them. There were about six! His credits included the Beatles’ music videos, The Goon Show and Rising Damp. Night Train to Murder would be his final movie. 16 TV appearances would follow and two writing jobs. The Glaswegian went near silent. Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise’s TV movie. One half of the duo was ill during filming of this movie and soon after in May of 1984. Roger Brierley, Richard Vernon and Pamela Salem co-star. The film would be the fourth and final expected big screen outing for Morecambe and Wise. Due to Eric’s death, it became a TV release in 1985. The closing moment of the TV movie sees Morecambe and Wise walking away together. There never was another televised gig.

 

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon [卧虎藏龙] gave international audiences something unseen before. Hovering, fluttering and graciousness seemed to be hand in hand with violence, menace and misery. Warriors, destiny and mythology gave Michelle Yeoh [杨紫琼] good reason to shake off the Bond Girl moniker. That same year, of 2000, saw Snatch hit the screens. As me and my best mate Dan watched, the movie entertained us. Momento came out too. Gladiator may have ruled the screens but Requiem For A Dream would carry as great a memory in time. Cast Away was epic.

Y Tu Mamá También, came out in 2001. This Mexican road movie is essential viewing. Donnie Darko was a very indie film with a great indie score. A beautifully dark movie. Black Hawk Down was a fine example of a bleak war movie. A Beautiful Mind, was as the title said.

City of God (Cicade de Deus), has great street chases, raw energy, a lack of Hollywood gloss and shows realism that modern gangland movies can only dream of. This 2002 movie is a snapshot of a Latin America that the tourism boards will hate. Another movie that I can’t reverse watching was Irréversible. It made me feel physically sick. Powerfully forlorn cinema. The camera shots and soundtrack are dizzying. Perhaps look up Daft Punks’ Thomas Bangalter and his solo work. Many a film critic said it was, “a movie so violent and cruel that most people will find it unwatchable” – and some labelled in homophobic. I just found it dizzying and extreme. The Bourne Identity was simple to follow, with a great sequence of pursuits throughout. In some ways it was James Bond without the boobs. 28 Days Later and Signs added to the cinematic splendour.

In 2003, Oldboy leapt off screens from Korea. It was remade many years later. Avoid that. The best in this case is the original. Prepare to be shocked. Kill Bill: Volume 1 was released too, with one of the best soundtracks for some time. Bad Boys 2 probably marked my last VHS owned.

In 2004, Downfall, was made and suddenly Hitler’s angry map scene would occupy an endless flow of memes. Kill Bill: Volume 1 wasn’t just released – it was practically flung at you like a dagger. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou and The Terminal completed a good year. Ttosi landed in 2005. It is hugely emotive, dynamic and lives up to its meaning of thug. Redemption may or may not be earned. Lord Of War added wit and seriousness to the world of arms dealing.

The Lives of Others released in 2006 is worth a look. Of course, you are being watched – just like the antagonists on screen. That same year Pan’s Labyrinth became quite mainstream for a foreign movie. The movie is up there on the good ground with David Bowie in Jim Henson’s Labyrinth. Batman Begins kept my love of mainstream movies that year. It also gave us Little Miss Sunshine, and Letters from Iwo Jima.

In 2007, The Bourne Ultimatum made great contrast to the movie adaptation of Into The Wild, perhaps my favourite tragic book of all time. Sunshine was great viewing too. The Western movie 3:10 to Yuma ranked highly on my watchlist. 2008’s guilty pleasure for me was Iron Man. If only we knew what was to come!? Slumdog Millionnaire was an instant hit and the soundtrack made my MP3 player soonafter. Lion’s Den was the most gripping movie of the year. Like Stars on Earth is the sweetest teacher-themed movie of all time. The Baader Meinhof Complex is brutal and wonderful in equal proportions. If you needed a taste of mental health awareness – though extreme, Belgain film Ben X had it.

Three Idiots was a surprise. It was neither Bollywood, nor Hollywood. I’ve tried watching many Indian and Pakistani movies. None have succeeded in keeping my attention, until Three Idiots arrived in 2009. There is a buddy movie feel that Trains, Planes & Automobiles successfully caught – as did the Canadian production Due South. Tragedy and warmth drips from the screen. District 9 added a valid and tangible story to the usual CGI-gone-mad state of movies of this period. The Secret in Their Eyes was a particularly good thriller. The White Ribbon, set before World War One is a mystery that both grips whilst it presents oddity and intrigue.

127 Hours was not as long as the title suggested and with a soundtrack to suit the true story, the movie whistled by in no time at all. In 2010, the book was promptly picked up afterwards. Incendies followed twins returning to their former middle-eastern homes. Biutiful was a great and disturbing movie that awoke the imagination. Can you imagine knowing how you will die? Javier Bardem was hypnotically mesmerising.

The following year of 2011 gave many awards to Drive, and rightfully so. Moneyball added some baseball to my viewing but the story was wonderful, so I let the U.S. version of rounders slip without a worry. Super 8 surprised me with how good a feel it could generate. The Intouchables was heart-warming and witty – and in 2017 the formula of a caregiver with an aristocratic quadriplegic was remade with Breaking Bad’s Bryan Cranston.

In 2012, The Dark Knight Rises, wasn’t quite as the previous two Christopher Nolan incarnations of Batman. Still it is a favourite. Skyfall made up for that. At last a Bond movie with a real bite to it. The Hunt gave us a look at how creepy Mads Mikkelsen can appear.

Captain Phillips told audiences, in 2013, a story of Somalian pirates. Tom Hanks stars. When he performs well, the audience always feels it. Accolades and awards followed. The Man of Steel reinvented Superman before DC Comiscs trashed that in almosy every instalment since. All Is Lost, scored by Alex Ebert, lasted 105 minutes – and starred just Robert Redford. It was not last time watching that masterpiece. Pacific Rim followed a Transformer, Power Rangers, Godzilla feel but kept me inside a Colchester cinema out of a heatwave. I enjoyed the movie greatly. It was one of my guilty pleasures that year.

In 2014, Boyhood gave probably the most original piece of cinema for a long, long time. The coming-of-age drama had been shot over an epic period spanning more than a decade. Nightcrawler added thrills and gave the pulse a work-out. Gone Girl was another great thriller. Godzilla was okay, just okay. Birdman was a wonderful comedy and The Theory of Everything was positively riveting. American Sniper told a sorry story well.

The Revenant in 2015 was powerful and moody. The Martian was atmospheric and moving. Spectre started great but fizzeld out. Idris Elba’s Beasts Of No Nations, opened discussions and eyes to an otherwise ignored world within the 21st century. Everest, tried to bundle together many accounts of a disaster offering a respectful disaster and made a wonderful IMAX feature. 2016 reinvigorated the Jurassic Park machine by bringing is Jurassic World, a rollercoaster of a movie. In 2016, Deadpool refreshed the graphic novel/superhero genre with a splash of bad taste and violence. The Jungle Book, in live-action was almost a frame by frame copy of the cartoon by Disney but it added sweetness to the silver screen. Suicide Squad added wit to the overly-full genre of superhero outings. Star Wars: Rogue One was a good war movie, albeit with a scifi backdrop. Tom Hanks once again wowed audiences with his performance in Sully.

Dunkirk was visually stunning and well shot in 2017. Wonder Woman challenged gender roles for superhero main stars and also added some good drama between the CGI sheets. Logan added a geriatric take the hero genre. Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing Missouri swept away many awards and rightly so. War for the Planet of the Apes concluded a great trilogy remaking. The Darkest Hour gave the excellent Gary Oldman a vehicle to display his varied talents. Disney added a live action beauty in Beauty & The Beast.

In 2018, Bohemian Rhapsody added a loveable rock star to our screens. Freddie Mercury was extragavant, complex, talented and had a voice like so few. This movie captured the magic and gave voice to a story that many didn’t know. I didn’t know that Farrokh Bulsara was born in Zanzibar and went on to become the lead singer of Queen.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

Upwards in 2019.

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

Welcome to 2019.

Einstein’s theories are bobbins. Kent is a car park. Queen are number one, again. Hair is allowed to be grown by choice and we’re being made to watch it. Earth is scarred by more than Brexit. Welcome to the year 2019. I’ve just clicked off from The Funny Thing About… Bigorexia. Russell Kane presented it. He hit the nail on the head and the hammer-in-particular he was chatting about is body dysmorphia in males. We’re all expected to look like the cast of The Only Way Is This Is Essex In Chelsea. So, after that little show I gave Jayde Adams on grief, smart little series with tough, tough topics. Privilege, being little, being offensive and online trolling are also covered. Well worth a look and listen. Made by ITN productions, it is available on BBC’s website. This is what happens when all I can find in the sports news is a story about an assumed 90 year old cycling cheat.

One word that is scary fear. And not, the James Bond meets Jurassic Park kind of petrifying. The year ahead could be a scary one if we all get too weighed down by politics, news, the environmental disasters and the problems of plastic. So, what is there to look forwards to in 2019? Game of Thrones ends too. Must look up Killing Eve and the next instalment of True Detective. I didn’t see The Bodyguard, made by BBC. Peaky Blinders should be back soon too. The War of The Worlds is also being made as British TV series – finally!

I had started writing this yesterday, ahead of hearing of a new series of Luther. BBC released a few teasers. I’d downloaded it and watched it in a state of man-flu. The Heavy’s ‘The Big Bad Wolf’ is one song that I’ve really enjoyed from this series – and its wonderful closing credit choice of songs. Paul Englishby’s input on the scoring also adds a very emotive soundtrack. Red Titanic and their song ‘White Rabbit’ (dubstep version) is deeply emotive. Grinderman’s Palaces of Montezum is ace too.

Back to Nepal.

TV and news aside. In this month on the 22nd, the planes wheels will be touching down on Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan International Airport. Having already seen Swayambhunath on the large stupa, the Kathmandu Durbar Square, and Pashupatinath Temple, I need to look at things to do in the city. The Birenda Museum was quite small, but closed, on my last visit. The Aircraft Museum doesn’t appeal – set inside one old former Turkish Airlines aircraft. Information on the Mahendra Museum is limited. The Narayanhiti Palace could be interesting but I’m hoping the Colt M16A2, Glock 19 9mm pistol, and other guns of June 2001 by the the penultimate King of Nepal (King Dipendra). He was Eton educated. Say no more. Should have attended North Trafford College or Reddish Vale School – he might have learnt some respect. At least his successor had the decency to be abolished. The Narayanhiti Palace could be a weirdly interesting spot. I wonder if Japan’s Knight Grand Cordon of the Order of the Chrysanthemum awarded to King Dipendra will be on display. Maybe the National Museum of Nepal will be more fruitful. Maybe my footsteps will find the Natural History Museum this time round. I’m growing quite excited by a return to Kathmandu.

The rambling plan – section 1

Despite my residual man flu symptoms (sneezing, aching muscles, headache, testicular pain and so on), I am in full planning mode for Nepal. The plan will loosely resemble the below. Give or take a few parametres. The first part is get the trekking permit, bus ticket and start the small matter of 200kms of walking… only then will it be clear as to the what is possible. Last time I started from the village of Jiri, but this time I hope the trek can start a little further up, but it must involve Kinja and the Lamjura Pass as they were stunning. A further starting point may allow a day to be sat in hand, in case it is needed later.

KTM: COLLECT TIMS http://www.timsnepal.com/
Kathmandu to Jiri (6 to 8h by road) Bus #5064? 0530am?
[DAY 1] Jiri 1951m – Ratmate – Chitre – Mali – Shivalaya (New Sherpa Guide) 14km [5.5H] Gaurishankar Permit 2000NPR
[DAY 2] Shivalaya  – Deorali 2705m – Bhandar 12km [5H]
[DAY 3] Bhandar- Kinja 1630m – Sete 2575m 15km [6.5H]
[DAY 4] Sete – Dagcha 3220m – Goyam 3000m – Lamjura Pass – (3530m) – Junbesi 2675m 15km [11H]
[DAY 5] Junbesi – Phurteng – Ringmu 2730m – Numtala 2360m 17km [9.5H]
[DAY 6] Numtala – Khari Khola 2100m – Bupsa Danda 2340m 10km [7H]

The rambling plan – section 2

The difficult part starts about here. The former section will have geared the muscles and mind. Here the key will be acclimatisation – and adjustment to an increasing altitude. Garlic soup will be on the menu.

[DAY 7] Bupsa Danda – Kari La – Paiya 2730m – Surkhe 2293m 14km [7H]
[DAY 8] Surkhe – Muse – Nurning –  Phakding – Benkar – Manjo (Monju 2835m): 1000rs entry fee at Sagarmatha National Park – Jorsalle 15km [7.5H]
[DAY 9] Jorsalle – Larja bridge 2830m – Namche Bazaar 3440m 5km [4H]
[DAY 10] Namche Bazaar
[DAY 11] Namche Bazaar  – Phunke Tenga – 3250m – Tengboche 3860m 12km [6.5H]
[DAY 12] Tengboche –  Deboche – Pangboche – Dingboche 4360m 10km [6.5H] 5am ceremony
[DAY 13] Dingboche: Nangkartshang Gompa
[DAY 14] Dingboche – Duglha – Lobuche 5020m [ 1 day]

The rambling plan – section 3

This will be the toughest planned route. There is no margin of error in time. If a day can be gained before here, it will be an unexpected miracle.

[DAY 15] Lobuche: Gorak Shep 5357m/5140m – Kalapathar – EBC 5357m
[DAY 16] Lobuche – Dzongla 4840m/5545m [4H]
[DAY 17] Dzongla – Cho La 5420m – Thangnak  (4765m) [7-8H]

Crampons-5am start.
[DAY 18] Thangna  – Gokyo 4750m [4.5H]
[DAY 19] Gokyo – Gokyo Ri (5360m) – Pangka (4455m) or Machhermo (4410m)  [5-7.5H]
[DAY 20] Machhermo – Himalayan Rescue Association – Dole (4200m) – Phortse Tanga (3600m) [6H]
[DAY 21] Phortse Tanga  – Mong – Namche Bazaar [6H]
[DAY 22] Namche Bazaar-Phakding- Chauriharka – Lukla [6H]
[DAY 23] Lukla Airport-KTM

Then a day’s rest, some food, maybe a wander and a flight back the next day…

The rambling plan – let’s get ready to ramble

Between now and then there is much to do. Recovery, training and to double check my insurance cover is adequate. It isn’t mega-hard to prepare for, but it isn’t a walk in the park. Well not Scotland Hall Road Park [Newton Heath, Manchester], anyway. Less danger but more yaks, though. It isn’t a marathon but it does share some similarities. The biggest one is the need for stamina – both mental and physical. You are able to do this – but can you do it? That’s upto your mind. Attitude and altitude are similar words and probably make a good marketing slogan.

The thing about the Everest Base Camp trek is that every year young and old people walk it. The thing to remember is that it comes with easier distances, longer wanders and optional extras. Slow and steady wins the day. There is no race. Only your time constraints bind you. Many complete the up in around 8 days with just 3 days down. That’s allowing minimal acclimisation and elevation adjustment. The golden rule of not staying 300m more each day can be achieved. The problem with just 11 days on foot, is that the views and the feel for the place can’t fully be savoured – and the local life can’t be fully appreciated. I’d hate to waste a view.

This next week I must wear in my walking boots (two pairs) to work out which ones are best suited. Then, I need to buy some duck tape for emergency repairs to said boots. My rucksack I already know to be comfortable and bigger than the Vango Sherpa 65L bag I had last time. This Vango 90L bag may be a bit excessive but I don’t plan to take the 25Kg I carried at the last walk. They’ll be a few practice treks and even one with Here! Dongguan magazine at the Dongguan Botanical Gardens this weekend. I won’t be overwhelmed by training like last time, and it will be a fun process getting myself readily mobile again. I won’t be Usian Bolt. Proper practice and prepartion prevents piss-poor performance. After all, fun is supposed to be enjoyable, right?

High altitude sickness, lower jetstreams, increased bad weather… these are things you must have in your mind, be prepared to accept and meet with bodily adaptations or call it quits. A response will be needed and if you’re fit enough, you’ll rise or fall – or best just turn yourself around. The first discomfort will need pushing through. The second too. There may be more. After that, it is amazing how far you can go. Endurance grows rapidly. Difficulty and challenges may increase but you become stronger and most ready to it.

My recovery will need some aerobic exercise. I have football, cyckling and some jogging on the next 12 days of things to do. I must be able to breath and focus. The recent man-flu hasn’t been ideal. Difficulty and duration will be built up again – and hopefully I’ll feel more viking than mouse. There will be steps and one park already have my name on it. The park with my name on it and I will be good friends soon.

The strength of mind to enjoy a view, rather than bend down and try to catch breath, will be a motivation. Our bodies are designed to walk. They’re dedicated vessels for this kind of activity. This is why the park with my name on it, will see some running, some rest walks, some lighter jogs and some step sprints. I will run my balls off. Fatigue will know my name. I may do a few lunges and squats to get the lactic acid boiling. Stretches before and after will be normal.

Things to be mindful of include: time to prepare; time to adjust; increased nutrition (calories and protein); dynamic stretches in the morning; static stretches at night; and

The Himalayas await…

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

2019 – 1 day

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

28th December:

Firstly, there are too many distractions. I know this is true because I started writing the first sentence about a week ago. The second sentence followed a few days later. This sentence was written today. Yesterday, I met with Gerry, Cian, Lee, Mrs Lee, Toby (good luck in Thailand), Percy, and Maria. Some Premier League football was watched involving City’s deserved defeat at Leicester City. This is football. Far from ‘Typical City’ and much closer to ‘it’s a game of two teams’. Liverpool were on in the background and Man Utd. The less said the better. Turkey thigh and vegetables followed steak and the trimmings. It wasn’t bad. I felt very much fed up yesterday. The time difference plus a faulty VPN has made dialling the U.K. and family a tad difficult. Maybe, I’ll finally add a VPN to my phone now. Lesson learnt.

 

This weekend we worked on Saturday due to the nationally recognised New Year holidays of Sunday to Tuesday. I doubt that I’ll go anywhere. Probably take it very easy. Save all the travelling for Nepal beginning in late January.

31st December:

Yep, I was distracted.

Had a lazy day yesterday, and today… probably tomorrow too. So, here it goes… simply:

恭贺新禧 (gōng hè xīn xǐ)

Respectful congratulations on the New Year.

 

新年快乐 Xīnnián kuàilè

HAPPY NEW YEAR

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

Máo Zedong

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你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

 

Do I want to know the future? No. It may ruin the present. The past always calls for us. History repeats itself. The trick is to forget time and not follow clock, schedules and guidelines like the rigid forms that are presented to us. For that very same reason, I ate a bowl of Rice Krispies at lunchtime. They snapped, they crackled and then they popped. I’ve always loved cereal. It is my kind of drug.

Today marks the birth of Máo Zedong [毛泽东]. He ruled China for a long time. As the People’s Republic of China came about in 1949, his position as Chairman of the Communist Party of China carred great strength. Maoism, that is, his theories on military strategies, politics and thinking are still strong today. Devoutly nationalist and strongly anti-imperialist in his views, the boy from Sháoshān [韶山] led an interesting upbringing. His birth at a wealthy farm to a stern disciplinarian father he would encounter the odd punishment. He had siblings, two brothers (Máo Zélín毛泽淋 and Máo Zemin毛泽民;) and an adopted sister (Máo Zétán毛泽覃). Máo Zedong [毛泽东] was influenced by the the Xinhai Revolution (1911), the May Fourth Movement (1919) and later at Peking University in his exposure to Marxism–Leninism.

Máo Zedong led the 1927 Autumn Harvest Uprising [秋收起义; Qīushōu Qǐyì] – something which would gather influence to found the Chinese Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army [中国工农红军Zhōngguó Gōngnóng Hóngjūn]. The Jiangxi–Fujian Soviet [中央革命根據地] state was formed in 1931 until 1934. The Long March followed this period of time. A military retreat would change the fortunes of a fledgling Chinese leader. The raging Chinese Civil War held a hiatus as both the Guómíndǎng [中国国民党] and the Communist Party of China (中国共产党Zhōngguó Gòngchǎndǎng) battled Japanese Forces during World War II. For four more years following the war’s end, the civil war resumed. Máo Zedong eventually forced a retreat of the opposition to what is known by many as Taiwan.

The Great Leap Forward [Dà Yuèjìn大跃进] followed in 1957 giving industry to the people of a mainly agicultural land. As England’s football team lifted the World Cup in national football, China began the Cultural Revolution. Only in 1972, did China open a largely-closed doors to the western world. Máo Zedong met with American President Richard Nixon. In 1976, Chairman Máo died of a heart attack. He had led a life rich in poetry, intellectual debate, military strategies, and as a visionary. He drove imperialism from the lands of China. He started a modernisation of lands. He changed a fractured nation into a world power. He promoted the status of women, improved education and health care. The population of China erupted from 550 million or so to a whopping 900 million people. Life expectancy in China soared considerably. His influence and footnote in history is far-reaching.

Chairman Máo remains one of the most important and influential individuals in contemporary world history. Not bad for someone who once had an ambition to be a school teacher. He changed jobs and ambitions in his early years. The ‘end justifies the means’ yet his brain sought better and more knowledge. His interest in war procedures gave him a view of the Great War ravaging Europe. He developed a sense of solidarity with workers. His world opened-up when he moved to Beijing and became exposed to the bigger picture. Over the early years he travelled, witnessed deaths of close friends and family. Lambasting the governments of Japan, UK and US became normal practice. In the 1920’s he sought to work with the Guómíndǎng [中国国民党] and supported the then National Revolutionary Army in their campaigns to rid the land of warlords.

‘Revolution is not a dinner party, nor an essay, nor a painting, nor a piece of embroidery; it cannot be so refined, so leisurely and gentle, so temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous. A revolution is an insurrection, an act of violence by which one class overthrows another.’ – Mao, February 1927

Politically very confusing times arose following Sun Yat-sen’s [Yìxiān孫中山] death in May 1925. I’ve tried to understand Máo Zedong [毛泽东], his history and the formation of People’s Republic of China. It isn’t easy. I think i need to read more… and there is plenty to be read. This is what I decided to read when I couldn’t watch Morecambe and Wise today.

Enjoy the ramining five days of 2018. Happy Boxing Day, St Stephen’s Day, Wren Day, and Mummer’s Day.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

A Tougher Christmas Away From Home

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你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

MERRY CHRISTMAS

圣诞节快乐 (shèng dàn kuài lè)

Here we go, here we go, here we go… Christmas is coming. The turkeys and other winged edibles are getting fat. Not that I can judge, as I’m a tad chubbier than chubby. The festive season isn’t my favourite. Too many selfish and greedy Christmas dreams of the latest Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles figures or Lego made it so. Actually, I’ve been very lucky at Christmas and maybe when I was young, I never quite appreciated it the same. When you’re a child stuck between divorced parents in a place called limbo, not knowing quite who or where you’d be, it isn’t easy. Some years I didn’t write Christmas cards to family because they’d be wasted. The year after I’d do it again, and they’d be unneeded. I think this shaped my adultlife more than I care to mention. Today, I am toying with electronic messages for all. There are rainforests afterall. Or there were, at the time of writing. Less so, by the end of each sentence. Trees have sentences too. Usually a stark chopping sound. Or do they use chainsaws?

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How, I wonder what you’re at! Up above the world you fly, like a tea tray in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How, I wonder what you’re at!

You’re homeless bat. The chainsaws just ripped through the stumps of the tree housing your crevice home. Goodbye bat. Oh, I think I have gone off topic. Back to the tinsel and baubles. I guess living in China and witnessing a very commercial society buy and sell everything Christmas for the sake of it, plus seeing life back home. The haves. The have-nots. The stripping of traditional values and beliefs make me long for family. Just family. Good times and days out. It is far better to enjoy time with those you love – and love you, than to say, buy them an iPhone What-The-Feck™ or the latest Ex-Box™ (check your recycling bin). Is our quality of life becoming so material that we will develop crab claws like some sort of mutant Lego man?

 Happy Holidays!

佳节快乐 (jiā jié kuài lè)

The humble pillow case at Christmas would often double-up as a Christmas tardis of joy. For Astrid, Paul and I, there’d be treats, mayba a selection box, some fresh fruit and gifts inside. In hindsight I feel sorry for Mum, over the years, probably spending her hard-earned efforts and time on things to make us happy for a moment. The lucky thing is that the memories are there. The fondest moments are of seeing my brother Paul open is latest Dr Who or Harry Potter something-or-other. Christmas away from home is mentally exhausting. To keep busy and free of Christmas regret is the key. In that sense, I want this Christmas to bring my brother Paul closer.

I’m almost certain my brother Paul detests me. I’m tired of chasing a brother that needs to mature, take responsibility for himself and his place of living. I wish him all the luck in the world and offer him love. I hope he realises how lucky he is to have home there by him, at home. I hope he cuddles my sister Astrid and wishes Mum and Mum’s boyfriend Paul a joyous and wonderful Christmastime. Perhaps, he’ll go carol singing or wash the Christmas dishes having spent the morning helping to prepare the main meal. He’ll probably suggest they all watch Morecambe & Wise on television and peruse old family photos. Some reminiscing and pondering are permitted before a game of Scrabble or Monopoly. Paul is just a victim of my frantic typing today. Every Christmas I think about those that I should be closer to, and those I want to do well in life. There are many. I hope Paul and I are at peace. I invite him to China – and try a portion of life free of Almost Everyday Shit™. It’d be nice to get a bit more than a short arse reply. It’d be nice to be there for each other. It is probably my fault, for not being there when he needed me. Brothers and sisters are just like friends following university – we drift apart. The difference being that some brothers never actually got close enough to be good friends. I’ve always admired how Paul and Astrid have been closer than me and them. Shaun and Christina on my Dad’s side of the family are the same.

Believe it or not, I miss my brother – and we haven’t been close. I miss all my siblings, Asa (with Steph) down in cider territory, big little sister Astrid, Christina (the brainbox of the siblings) and Shaun (named after Shaun Goater). Being from a family that has a splatmark rather than a family tree, it has never been easy but now I am finally mature enough to understand. We each lead our own life and walk a different path. It is great to know that brothers or sisters are there for each other in some shape or form. I can’t wait to see them all again. I dream of taking a photo of us all together, and dining well. Maybe I am naïve but at least I am a dreamer – and I know I’m not the only one. Cheers J.L.

So, for Christmas events so far, I’ve managed to dress as Santa Claus at the Shenzhen Blues. That day was long, with a few hours of costume chaos, orchestrated by Kat and Stephen as they paraded us like lambs to the slaughter. Fed on a light turkey lunch, Rebecca (my adoped Christmas wife) and I gave out gift baubles, certificates and smiled for countless photos. Following a swift coffee and natter with a legal friend, we cracked on for the second act. The meal, quiz and raffle seemed to whiz by, then City played at 01:30am local time and coffee would have been more use then. Bed at 4am, with City’s first defeat fresh in mind. Shenzhen Blues raised about 1300rmb for A Heart for China charity. Not bad for 10RMB tickets. Oh, and I met a professional Santa Claus, who was enjoying a drink after a hard day’s work in the hotel industry. He works all year, on photoshoots, promotions, as Santa – and even has a wedding ring with a snowflake on it.

In March 2014, I heard my first Christmas songs in China on loop at a fast food chain. Fast forward to November 2014 and I was told I could have Christmas Day off work with my colleagues.  Soon after I put up my Christmas tree and the happy season followed. I missed family and friends of course. Still, it wasn’t a bad Christmas in 2014. In 2015, I joined Hong Kong Blues for the Santa Stroll, had dinner with Hubhao, had a meal with colleagues on Christmas Eve before watching the musician Mr Walrus on Christmas Day itself. I still need to get round to completing that Chinese Proficiency Test, I set in 2015. In 2016 and 2017, I’d been Father Christmas at the Shenzhen Blues events. The former year involved a strange Christmas meal and the latter none, but Maria did go with me to a Christmas Eve concert. As for 2018, tell you later.

The week before last week saw a day of exams at school. I planned and organised my double science class for the JS2/Grade 8 students. It tanked. The behaviour of students on days with exams, plus their collective lack of interest in science doesn’t help. I should blame myself. I try, but once you get past showing toilet plant clips, the Titan arum plant, and trying to feed their imagination, then the technical terms are of little interest to them. If one boy, named Tony Stark, gets his way, then there will be no class. As friendly as he is, he blocks the rest of the class from concentrating. Sadly, taking out the leader is not possible. Engaging him as the central point of some activites has worked though. Further reading is required.

This week has been filled with pre-Christmas activities, similar to recent dance activities and a seemingly constant-flow of extracurricular… and I’m working Christmas Day, through choice. Wish me luck.

Nadolig Llawen i chi. Feliz Navidad. 愉快な. Lystig jul. Рождеством Христовым. Vrolijke Kerstmis. Natal feliz! Joyeux noël! Fröhliches Weihnachten!

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

没有付出，就没有回报！No pain, no gain!

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

 

Cycling, and particularly track cycling, is a sport that I really enjoy. To have attended world class events at Manchester Velodrome during my younger years was such a privilege. I am sadly going to miss the UCI Track Cycling World Cup at Hong Kong Velodrome in January. The finale of the six-race series will be spectacular. Many entrants will come from China, Macau and Hong Kong – and not least Team G.B.

Velodrome: The arena for cycling is far from just a wooden track. It is an amphitheatre of dramatic action – a vestibule for emotions and a passageway to transcend international boundaries. Nations battleand compete here, individuals duel, teams sweat and grind gears together. The oval track is as a ring is in marriage, binding and steeply banked with fears and passion. Two straight lines transition through mathematically-beautiful easement curves.

The track itself is 250 metres of well-laid slick wood. The cant, or superelevation on the bends can hit 45° in angle. Centrifugal forces come into play. There are a variety of track disciplines to compete and each type of race uses some of or all of the track, including the red, black and blue sprint lines. Few favour the sky-blue Azure, inside the track. It essentially is dangerous and a way to be disqualified. Every cyclist fears the firing of the starter gun midrace for a reason. Fouls and excessive use of the Azure will trigger the gun.

Hong Kong Velodrome as host to premier world track cycling tournaments, will not fault itself. A huge 344 cyclists from 41 nations of the globe contended for 60 medals (gold through tosilver, means 20 events) back in 2017. 2019 will be no exception. As the wheels will be disassembled from frames and flat-packed like Ikea furniture for homeward travels, many nations will hold medals – with several of those as world title holders. Previously Hong Kong had held the final round of 2015-2016 UCI Track Cycling World Cup and the UCI Track Cycling World Championship soon after. This time around more than medals are on the line. The Tokyo Olympics in 2020 mean qualification places are up for grabs.

Sprint – Individual sprint. Often dubbed as “Cat and Mouse” cyclists start side by side. They don’t have to go hell-for-leather and an all-out attack. They can use their tactical experience and sometimes a dash of luck. It is not confined to the sprint lanes. Aerodynamics and jockeying for a good launch position for the finish line come into play very early on. Best watched with the theme music from the Pink Panther in the background. Kristina Vogel (Germany) and Jason Kenny (Team GB) will get your pulse pounding! This is a hell for leather intense-adrenaline race.

Sprint – Keirin.This is a pure adrenaline sport. It can take your breath away. It is huge in Japan, with races subject to gambling, that funds the national health services there! It is beefy and bold. Greats of the sport include Sir Chris Hoy (Team GB), Koichi Nakano (Japan), Elis Ligtlee (Team Neatherlands), Jason Kenny (Team GB), and my personal cycling hero/greatest entertainer of the ring Robert Forstemann (Germany). After a paced start, track cyclists must sprint for victory following behind a motorised pacer. The speed of the pacer (derny) builds up to 50 km/h (31 mph). It leaves the track around 600–700 m (660–770yd) before the end. Then the speeds can exceed 70 km/h (43 mph)! Peter Deary was a long-time favourite of this sport. Google him, with the word derny.

Sprint- Time trial. (1000m for men and 500m for women; or 250m flying lap) The flying lap world record of 9.347seconds, (as set by French rider Francois Pervis, Mexico, 6 December 2013) shaved little off Sir Chris Hoy’s then-Olympic Record (9.815 seconds, 2008 Beijing Olympics) yet results in almost every international competition seem to get close to the record books). It can leave you gripping your cycling programme willing on every single nation, for in cycling, a spectator will support everyone with passion!

Sprint – Team sprint. Guo Shuang (郭爽) and Gong Jinjie (宫金杰) set a women’s record at Rio’s 2012 Olympics for Team China (32.447 seconds). Zhōng Tiānshí (钟天石) and Guo Shuang won China’s first ever Olympics Cycling gold medals beating the previous world record time with a 31.928 second finish.

Endurance – Omnium. The word itself is Latin for “belonging to all”. Think decathlon or heptathlon but it is actually just six events. A scratch race, an individual pursuit, an elimination race, a time trial, a flying lap and a points race. All winners must have more collective overall points than the runners-up. Laura Rebecca Kenny CBE (née Trott; Team GB), aged only 24, has a huge collection of medals from this event.

Endurance – Individual pursuit. The last Olympic men’s winner was Sir Bradley Wiggins (Team GB). It didn’t feature in Rio 2016. Rebecca Romero (now retired, Team GB) and Rebecca Wiasak (Australia) have had good results in recent years. BerylBurton is a legend of this sport with a museum display at Manchester’s National Cycling Centre. American Sarah Hammer has always been in contention for the medals in this event. Distances covered are not so short or so long: 4 kilometres (2.5miles) for men and 3 kilometres (1.9 miles) for women.

Endurance – Scratch race. Held over 15 km for Elite Men and 10 km for Elite Women. All riders start together and the aim is clear: finish first. This is a great race format for a nip to the toilet. With track cycling, it is very easy to miss the action – and similarly very easy not to wish to miss a moment!

Endurance – Points race. I have been following track cycling since 1994, when the Manchester Velodrome opened ahead of the 2002 Manchester Commonwealth Games. I have watched many points races, and been asked many times by friends and family to explain it. Usually, a sprint is held every ten laps, with 5, 3, 2, and 1 point(s) being awarded to the top four finishers in each sprint. Expect to see 120-160 laps. There are ways to lap the field (gain a lap, gain 20 points).  You can lose points for falling a lap behind. To follow many cyclists on a crowded field is difficult. It lasts for around 45 minutes too. Hugh Porter, the voice of TV cycling commentary in the U.K., usually makes the whole affair more comforting.

Endurance – Team pursuit (two teams per race). The easiest way to explain this race. It is pretty much similar to the individual pursuit. The difference being that two teams (each of up to four riders) compete. They start on opposite sides of the velodrome. If you see it on TV, it is always in split screen. In the arena itself, it is very dizzying to follow two teams. Thankfully there are judges to determine leaders – and computer technology.

Endurance – The Madison. Two teams per race. Named after Madison Square Gardens, New York City. Hong Kong once held an event that was the first time this featured for the women’s teams. Teams to watch across the genders include: Team GB, Russia, France, Italy and New Zealand… amongst others!

Other race formats: These include the popular elimination race, Australian Pursuit, in essence 8 cyclists start at equal distances. They must catch the cyclist in front to eliminate them until two cyclists remain. The two then scrap out a finale race. Then, there is the Devil Takes the Hindmost elimination race. Last over the line, you’re out. Distances vary for elimination races.

There are even tandem, folding bike, three-wheeled and unicycle races in amongst some major track cycling events – all very entertaining for the crowds. And now, the UCI Hour Record seems to be endlessly up for challenge. Perhaps, you can beat Sir Bradley Wiggins by completing more than 54.526 km (33.881 mi) in an hour on the track?

In the women’s events, Team GB’s Elinor Barker, who I watched as a junior competitor in Manchester, many years ago had a trio of medals to her name. A Points Race gold, a Scratch Race silverand a Madison silver adding to a pleasing tournament for her. Fellow Team GBstar Katie Archibald claimed a gold in the Omnium, an event won by Brit LauraKenny (nee Kenny) twice between a brace of wins by USA’s Sarah Hammer and asingle victory by Australia’s Annette Edmondson. Veteran Sarah Hammer for USAwas in attendance claiming a silver in the Points Race.

Home advantage may bring a large backing. Stars such as Lee Wai Sze and Sarah Lee produced the biggest cheers of recent events held at HK Velodrome, with day three crowds roaring the local superstars on. They allowed mammoth queues to form for interviews and autographs. With stars like this on yourdoorstep, it will do more than inspire.

I have left the recent tournaments, wishing for more track cycling action. The journey back to Dongguan was full of dreams. I dreamt that Guangzhou’s beautiful seashell-shaped Velodrome, built for the 16th Asian Games in 2010, would be whipped into action by the Chinese Olympic Committee. Track cycling is only getting bigger and it seems a shame that Guangdong is missing out on such events. Beijing hosted the Olympics in 2008 adding tracks to Laoshan, Tianjin, Liaoning, Shanxi and Shandong.

To hire a bicycle at Guangzhou Velodrome, you must contact the venue manager. It isn’t easy. At Hong Kong Velodrome, like Manchester’s National Cycling Centre, there are lengthy waits – and simple online booking methods. With WeChat’s success at hiring out MoBikes, Opo bicycles, and other such services, I wonder why Didi or WeChat aren’t plying their trade in venues such as velodromes.

There is a hunger for cycling globally and Guangdong needs to attract an event as big as the UCI Track Cycling World Championships or UCI Track Cycling World Cup. The cyclists could even train in the day riding the mountainous routes of Dalingshan or a few laps of a course circling Songshan Lake.

A school programme by an international school, perhaps, even one of Dongguan’s giant institutes could pave the way forgreater regional and national cycling stars. Velodrome cycling experiences can lead to great things. The stimulus and vision of track cycling may not be here now, but one insight, one flash of brilliance and suddenly all will take shape. Until then track cycling, like road cycling, is not in the view of the people of Dongguan.

There is much potential to fill a velodrome. It can be a clubs and sports management centre, an extreme sport complex, host basketball and roller-skating rinks, house a BMX track, even form a training base for mountain biking. There can be additional space for rock climbing and places to act as a volunteers centre. I’d love to see the monopoly of European and down under nations rocked by an influx of ambitious Asian nations. Perhaps, once the wave of footballing investment gets boring, and rugby is completed, then cycling will be allowed chance to blossom here in China?

Address: Guangzhou Velodrome, GZUniversity City, East 4th Road, Panyu.

Address: Hong Kong Velodrome, TseungKwan O,

Website: http://www.uci.ch/track/

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

Word Up: The Bland Mid December Update

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

Moving on from a splattering of Almost Everyday Shit™, this piece of writing is more serious. I find the lack of progress in my spoken Chinese not only unsurprising but also annoying. I need to dedicate time to progression. I need to speak more. I don’t. I lack focus. I am distracted by the slightest change of the winds or a cloud shaped like a crocodile. Don’t misinterpret my lack of learning as a lack of passion. The culture is much more interesting to me. The problem is that Chinese can often be cryptic. Having simple words translated is good enough for now. My listening is improving and more often than before, I can understand the conversations around me. Food is a common topic. Really common. Stupidly common.

妈妈骑马马慢妈妈骂马; māma qí mǎ, mǎ màn, māma mà mǎ;

“Mother is riding a horse, the horse is slow, mother scolds the horse”

In recent weeks, I have attended Clockenflap music festival, with Eddy one night – and Martin the next. The latter, all by myself. Alone. That being said, it was a wonderful weekend, if not a tad expensive. Drinks were 75HKD each, so around £8. Water was free. Pizza was 35HKD per slice. Two expensive coffees a day helped. The big acts delivered in Jarvis Cocker’s Jarv.is and Erykah Badu. I enjoyed The Vaccines, with frontman Juston Young seemingly under the weather, put on an energetic set. Friday’s big set from Interpol was quite flat – as was Cigarettes After Sex. Neither act could offer the energy that festivals require. Khalid wasn’t to my taste, too popular but I was pleasantly surprised by Japanese band Cornelius. Wolf Alice, from That London, were on spot and deserve their lengthy list of plaudits. They’ll go on to big things. Canadian band Alvvays are worth a gander and I’m currently listening to their album Antisocialites. The golden performances of the weekend however belong to husband and wife, Amadou Bagayoko and Mariam Doumbia. The couple come from Mali and have over four decades of performances to their name. I couldn’t get enough of those funky Afro-Blues if I tried! Sensi Lion were good, but by far the best reggae and Jamaican sound came from the fusion of I Kong with Jahwahzoo. Chinese-Jamaican Leslie Kong (who launched a certain Bob Marley – also the likes of Jimmy Cliff and Desmond Dekker) had a son. His son followed the reggae producer into the music world. His son, I KONG, is 71 years old. He may have worn the body of an older man, but he had the grace and voice of one in his earl years. My ears feel graced by a reggae god. To cap it off, he fused his music with Chengdu’s Jahwahzoo. The city famous for pandas – has talent! By far the best act of the whole weekend’s art and music festival was that of David Byrne. The former punk-indie-rock-multi-genre spinning member of Talking Heads performed an unusual set, barefoot and with a fully integrated backing troupe. The traditional stage set-up was pushed aside for part opera-part ballet-part whatever it was. It was brilliant. Starting with an almost Hamlet-esque feeling and ending with the audience roaring for more. The disparate festival of Clockenflap had here and artist to fit all the billing. Exuberant and charistmatic, the Scottish born American singer with his support made quite an impression. To be active across five decades and evolve without feeling forced takes talent. To cap it all he is an active cycling advocate.

 

Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana. It seems like only yesterday that I went to Nepal. Yet here I am, planning a return trip for Spring Festival in 2019. The adventure continues. Now I need to start thinking about what music I will take with me. Johnny Marr and The Smiths will be there. A touch of Happy Mondays and Oasis too. Home always sounds in my ears. I think I’ll need some Meat Loaf. I first listened to Meat Loaf on car journeys from Cleethorpes, back to Manchester and later Morecambe to Manchester. Dad got me into Meat Loaf via The Razor’s Edge and Midnight at The Lost and Found. Some of his songs don’t age or get tiring. Some don’t register – as they’re somewhere below average and some just tide you over to the next number.

On the 30th November 2003, at the Manchester Evening News Arena I watched Meat Loaf’s Last World Tour. I’d last seen him on the 6th May 1999 in The Very Best of World Tour. I’d always wanted to see Meat Loaf and missed the G-Mex gig in 1994 and the two Nynex Arena [now Manchester Arena] gigs in 1996. Fast forward to the 16th of October 2006, I watched Meat Loaf at the Royal Albert Hall. The Three Bats tour gig was awesome. My university friend Lisa Bates accompanied me. I’d enjoyed the Sieze the Night tour in May 2007 at the Manchester Evening News Arena. In 2008, I watched Meat Loaf both at Home Park [27th June 2008] and Hamburg’s Stadtpark [23rd July 2008] as part of his Case de Carne tour. On the 9th of December 2010, at the Manchester MEN Arena, Hang Cool Tour was expected to be Meat Loaf’s final farewell tour. On the 19th of April 2013, I watched Meat Loaf at Sheffield’s Motorpoint Arena. Last at Bat Farewell Tour, featuring the entire Bat Out Of Hell album in the second act. On August the 16th that year, I visited Newmarket Racecourse to watch Meat Loaf on the same tour. I’m now waiting for Meat Loaf’s final, last ever, absolute ultimate closing decisive tour… 2003, 2006, 2007, 2007, 2010, 2013, 2013… we must be due one from the man who has toured almost continuously since 1977 soon?

Music is important to me. Just as great music like Ryuichi Sakamoto’s Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence, travelled via the medium of movies from the silver screen to our ears, sounds from John Barry, John Williams and a plethora of conductors have become synonymous with movies. Their emotive nature has strangled and captured my attention time and time again. Whilst John Barry and David Arnold have given the distinct sound of James Bond, it is Thomas Newman’s scoring for Skyfall that is foremost in my mind. Soundtracks offer the perfect opportunity to combine multiple genres and contrasting blends of music. They are the cocktail to the traditional beer of the album. Fine examples include Chameleon; Weddings; No Smiling Darkness/Snake Charmers Association; Ambulance for the Ambience; Major Label Debut (Fast) – all by Broken Social Scene. Ghostbusters, as a sountrack is multi-layered funky and dynamic. The Blues Brothers cannot be topped for tempo and feel good. Kill Bill’s soundtracks offer an incite into the director’s love of music. Due South, a TV series from the 90’s offers the buddy TV show in sound. Slumdog Millionaire, alongside Sons of Anarchy travel great grounds and make good companions. If that’s how you discover Black47, so be it. Like Lost In Translation, music is everywhere to be discovered, repleated and replayed. There’s nothing better than rediscovering a long-unplayed music track like Diesel Power by Prodigy or first hearing Arcade Fire. For new music I recommend BBC Radio 6 Music or just attending any music festival. To quote Limp Bizket, take a look around!

 

47442171_10156809556650699_5899347948554158080_nRecently, I joined Here! Dongguan magazine hiking. Following that I had dinner with several people including questionable-coke supplier Charli In China. Jokes aside, she doesn’t do drugs, or sell them on but her blog is located on WordPress alongside many, including this pile of crap that I keep typing on. I can’t recommend Charlie’s Blog, as I am only now reading it, but travel and culture enthusiasts can take my view and have a gander blindly. What is there to lose?

 

Last week on one lunch time I had beef and broccoli with rice. I felt hungry still, only an hour later. Increasingly, I feel more and more hungry, sooner and sooner after eating rice. Is this a sign of ill-health or have I become immune to the hunger-busting ability of rice? Answers on a postcard (edible, preferably) please. Last night, I ate hotpot with Obama, Stone, Maria and her mother. The kind of place where they make you cook. I asked for extra onion, expecting a portion but had a full (yet chopped) onion dashed at me. Can’t complain. It fried up well eventually amongst the pig’s stomach and various bits of vegetables. Winter has arrived and with it, the necessity to eat hotpot and devour soup more frequently. I don’t see it, personally, but then I’m not the one wearing five layers or thermals when it is 12°C. Don’t get me started in last week’s sudden ten degree drop in temperature! Dongguan went from summerwear to Baltic state overnight.

In recent weeks, school life has seen the obligatory Sports Days, talent competitions (I Dance Like This, being sang by 6-7 year olds was great fun) and the joys of midterm exams. We’re cracking on for the end of semester and Spring. The relentless pace now includes tonight’s Dance Extragavanza and Christmas activities soon after. Aside from helping to decorate Winners Pub and dress of Father Christmas at last weekend’s Shenzhen Blues’ event for Crimbo, I haven’t thought about the festive season. That way homesickness waits…

 

Words are great things – and a great song title too. So glad to hear that Doves are regrouping even if I can’t make any of the three announced gigs.

 

Words, they mean nothing 换句话说，他们的意思是什么
So, you can’t hurt me 所以，你不能伤害我
I said words, they mean nothing 我说的话，他们的意思是什么
So, you can’t stop me 所以，你不能阻止我
Words – Doves

I like wordplay and authors like Roald Dahl or Eric Carle have mastered repartee perfectly. Even influencing society and movies with their jousting words. I also like crazy sentences and riddles. Anything that somehow frazzles the mind and warps perception of simple English. When the meaning clicks, it clicks and if you can get a seven-year old kid to master just one little bit, then the feeling that wit and banter will forever enter their life is quite pleasing.

“Wouldn’t the sentence ‘I want to put a hyphen between the words Fish and And and And and Chips in my Fish-And-Chips sign’ have been clearer if quotation marks had been placed before Fish, and between Fish and and, and and and And, and And and and, and and and And, and And and and, and and and Chips, as well as after Chips?”

Words can be powerful emotive tools to convey actions. They can be linguitic symbols that appear in memes, poems and other semantic forms. They are historical, computational, anthropological and applied in structure and field. Some words reveal lots about our heritage – and many have morphed or transisted cultural boundaries. They can be generative or specific. Our languages globally depend upon them. Each word and its origin can be found. At the very least a theory given to the origin story in ways that Marvel will probably film at some stage. They do everything else. Our words are elements – that give meaning, whether objective or practical.

Now words, as stones make buildings, form phrases, languages, clauses and sentences. I threw this sentence together so that you can put up with reading it and generally feeling that I am terrible at writing. You’re welcome. Below words are the protons and neutrons in morphemes. Oh – and some make words, like erm… oh! Many words have roots, affixes and some are made of compounds. I wonder how many words feature in in affixes or compounds. It must be wonderful to know. That or you’ll be wordless.

Words make good games, not that using pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis as a subject is wise, because it is no laughing matter. The definition being ‘a lung disease caused by inhaling very fine ash and sand dust’. At least the Disney movie Mary Poppins went light-hearted with supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. The word, according to Dictionary.com, which can be found at www.dictionary.com, is ‘used as a nonsense word by children to express approval or to represent the longest word in English’. Most people with a sense of humour note it as something ‘extraordinarily good’ or ‘wonderful’ – with the movie intending it to mean, ‘something to say when you have nothing to say’.

In my opinion it is worth reading some of Richard Lederman’s books and checking out his webpage, Verbivore. English lexicographer and etymologist, Susie Dent, has some eye-opening mind-bending joyous books, and the popular title, Susie Dent’s Weird Words by Susie Dent is worth a perusal. That or you could read about uttering. They make lighter reading than the plethora of dictionaries available in the wide world. On top of that, I’d be up for a game of the best anagram game ever, Scrabble. Idioms, nautical term dictionaries, word play websites, prompts, blogs, rhymes, rimes – yùnshū (韵书), spelling bees and many more sources act as great ways to develop our language skills. Debate and discussion is one such powerful method. Choose a subject, such as antidisestablishmentarianism, then crack on. Or discuss your plans to visit Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch – home of the Women’s Institute and Llanfair PG FC.

Swords are powerful, so are words.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

Unified separatism A.K.A. Almost Everyday Shit™

oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

The U.K. or to give it its full title, the U****d Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland has batted above its level for many a moon. If the U.K. was a boxer, it would be Mohammed Ali in spirit but physically as tall as a five-year old Sherpa boy. Powerful nations in Russia, U.S. of A., the People’s Republic of China and India may boast population and resource, but the U.K. has one special weapon: Coronation Street.

The U.K.’s empire fell to pieces and global domination by corporations arose around the time Coronation Street actor Bill Roach was born. Something like that, I imagine. Then the U.K. let a few places go, under the old name of Great Britain, or the British Empire. Some places went from strength to strength, some struggled but overall most places opted to drive on the right side of the road, with that being the left side of course. The difference for former Empire countries and released dominions is that their exposure to the pacifying nature of Coronation Street has been undermined by something I like to call, Almost Everyday Shit.™

Almost Everyday Shit™ is something most British people have no exposure to. This is when some radical twonk, or some outlier within the genetic ensemble and base ofd Earth goes against the norm. They may stage a political upheaval, a coup, or an act of knobheadism.

Ever since 1578, the powerful ginger and then Queen Elizabeth I granted a patent to Humphrey Gilbert for discovery and overseas exploration. Britain started to steal lands. By 1913, the British Empire held power over 23% of the Earth’s population. The periods of time involved abandoned expansion plans to North America, Irish Plantations, slavery and numerous shipping companies. Britain invested heavily in sapping the East Indies, which ended up in bitter barneys with the Netherlands. Britain soon sought peace with William of Orange and the Netherlands fell into partnership. By 1720, Britain was doing quite well commercially. France and Spain were pests for many years. The battles with France at the Seven Years’ War and 1763 Treaty of Paris put shackles on the French as a rival. At the 1713-1715 Treaty of Utrecht, Spain took about two years to sign a deal to stop getting in the way. Something like that. Almost Everyday Shit™ swept across the Spanish colonies and French colonies.

By 1783, the Pacific was seen as fair game. So, Britain, having recently backed away from U.S.A. Jr. did just that and slipped a few boats eastwards. Almost Everyday Shit™ got in the way.

Just like those early British conquerers and forcers of learning English, I’m in China now and completely friendly like my forefathers. I bring with me cultural teaching and an attempt at wit, that probably falls closer to the term, Almost Everyday Shit™ – I can’t help it. I look through my goggles (beer not applied) at websites such as The Guardian [born as the Manchester Guardian in 1821], the Independent [founded in 1986 and for 8 years now Russian owned] and the BBC (a VPN is required now for the latter). Mostly all I see is Trump news, but moving away from farts, there is much more gassy news in this thing called Brexit. Firstly, I hate the term Brexit – British Exit from the E.U. because it sounds so childish. And it is. In an international market and a world experiencing division, we need more togetherness. Yet, here we have a divide and conquer move by the near right and central right of left wing. It depends who you believe. Conserve the status quo? Or, pretend it will save the N.H.S. money? Maybe even lie about it reducing immigration and asylum seekers. The whole debate was a farce of misinformation and deception. It was a bitter narrative countered by soft arguments and the British people voted to exit with a huge majority of 52% deciding the fate of all. Article 50 of the E.U. Treaty was invoked and as it stands Britain will go it alone from midnight (Central European Time) on 29 March 2019.

Frexit (where 45% voted to remain and a new vote in France is likely), a Dutch exit (51% votes to remain last time and another vote may follow) and Greenland’s loss in 1982 (where only 53% voted to leave) are all signs that globalisation is not a favoured subject, yet international relations are needed to avoid another Yugoslavia conflict or perhaps the Ukraine misplacing more territory. Almost Everyday Shit™ has been around for a while.

There can be arguments and conversations until the cows come home regarding the age of voters, a love for sovereignty, immigration concerns, those who feel left behind, a lack of integration or order, or perhaps an order that disregards traditional values and crushes innovation. General identity problems seem commonplace. I don’t see myself as English, British or European – I’m a Mancunian. An Academic, Eric Kaufman, observed there to be a strong correlation between a voter’s support for the death penalty and their selection to exit the E.U. Sorry to those who voted leave, but this parallel zealotry doesn’t speak for me. Moderation and debate have ended now, sadly. The ball is set rolling and the path of the ball could be bouncy, like a pinball, or perhaps it’ll take a strike at the end of a skittles alley. More likely it’ll leave the footballer with broken metatarsals and a desire to join a fanatical branch of the Women’s Institute. Almost Everyday Shit™ reigns supreme.

Older generations hark back to, “in my day” and “it was much better back then” – I’m sure it was much more romanticised when Spitfires and Vulcan Bombers were pouring off the production lines. Jobs, optimism and buoyancy had their arses slapped in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. As Great Britain downgraded to Moderate Britain, and manufacturing made way for servitude we all swapped Are You Being Served? for Downton Abbey, and in doing so, we all became servants to Mega Conglomerate – and their primary customer. Almost Everyday Shit™ became Almost Everyday Shit™. Did you question why? No, because you had an Apple iPad 9X-SUV edition with all the trimmings of a fucking all you can eat buffet. Well you made your bed and you can live in it, piss in it and crack on. Our grandparents survived the Blitz and probably spent most of it cursing bad weather. This is Britain and Britain will remain British in the sense, we all need to come together, have a jolly good knees-up and declare March the 29th our Independence Day. Like it or lump it, we are going alone, so why not have a new public holiday? An excuse to have an ale with a dollop of mushy peas on some fish and chips. Besides we can always be friendly to Europe. Spain needs our winter tourism. Germany needs our car demands. Italy needs our love for pizza and Greece isn’t a bad place to enjoy a mezze. Almost Everyday Shit™ had wars to fight.

All throughout the E.U.’s history, Albania has remained pretty much the same. Not unlike many other bitpart European nations, Albania has been largely overlooked. It is a twice rejected full member and labelled as a candidate member only. It doesn’t enjoy all the benefits. Why not? They rank higher than the U.K. and U.S.A. (by more than 60 places) in the Global Peace Index. What more does it need to do? The big club don’t want small members joining with ease. Fair enough but isn’t the union about unity? I’ve always been sceptical of the word united. Is being part of a bigger picture good or bad? Could local resourcing, local jobs and less environmental damage be a good thing for the U.K. going it alone? Will we turn to the great vast nations of India and China for a helping hand? Almost Everyday Shit™ can be strangely normal if we allow it.

I don’t care if the Union of Great Britain lives or dies. Nor do I care if the European Union collapses or strengthens. What I do care for, is togetherness and giving the people of the world a fair shot at life. To do that, to give a chance to all, requires a spot of social care and conscience. Do we have that now? Almost Everyday Shit™ is here and always has been.

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

“Welsh Wales”, as Mum says

oyster28catcher (JRA)1 Comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae,

Mention Wales [威尔士] to anyone from the U.K. and they’ll instantly have an image in their mind. That image may vary from a mythical place they’ve never been, shitty holidays in Colwyn Bay or the exotic-sounding-yet-ultimately-disappointing Barry Island, or Tom Jones. Stereophonics, Ryan Giggs and leeks may even come to mind.

To me, Wales was home for several years and forms part of my ancestry. I have a deep respect for Welsh pride and the diverse heritage. I also like castles, which is one huge reason to love Hen Wlad fy Nhadau [Land of my Fathers – the Welsh national anthem [国歌]. Wales’s land surface area [国土面积] covers 3,074,067m2. If the tide is out, then you may see a little more – whether sunken (think Borth forest) or lost lands (causeways). Wales has the highest concentration of castles per land and considering many are beyond ruins or have drifted away in time, this quaint principality of the U.K. has views like no other, often with a castle standing mighty. If there isn’t a castle nearby, then I guarantee a church, chapel or parish won’t be far away. Even the stones have stories!

民俗文化 [scenery]世界上每平方英里城堡数量最多的地方 The largest number of castles per square mile in the world.

The official languages [官方语言] of choice are Welsh [威尔士语] and English [英语]. During my time in the shadow of The National Library of Wales, I was encouraged to learn Welsh (Cymraeg). The library, surely one of the greatest, sheltered artworks, books and manuscripts during World War II. Located in Aberystwyth underneath the Penglais campus of Aberystwyth University, the views from the front door are dramatically panoramic. Here you can sit on a wall, over sweeping views, and read Aberystwyth Mon Amour by Malcolm Pryce. An ice cream, made of whelks, on a sunny December day completes the perfect picture.

March the 1st is a colourful day with leeks, flags and daffodils. As spring tip-toes in, the Welsh hold St David’s Day. A kind of St Patrick’s Day without Guinness. Their patron saint probably won’t understand novelty inflatable dandelions quite the same way. Like many great nations, food is important. Welsh Food [威尔士美食] is no exception. Ask for a Welsh rarebit and you’ll get cheese on toast. The historic pieces are laverbread (made from seaweed), cawl (a kind of lamb stew), cawl cennin (leek soup, they love the leeks!), (obviously from Wales) and cockles. Finish a meal with Welsh cakes, bara brith (a fruit bread). With most of the population near the sea, Welsh meals are often influenced by sea food. The Glamorgan sausage and Llymru (flummery, in England) are two treats to try. Like most of neighbouring England tatws (potatoes) make an appearance often. Tatws Popty and Tatws Pum Munud are the best examples. Maybe, ask Beca [贝卡] at the local café to cook some for you.

One fact that always seems to crop up is that Wales has more sheep than people. Its capital, Caerdydd [Cardiff 卡迪夫] has a population [人口] of just 350,000. Other major towns and cities aren’t anywhere near as big. Swansea [斯旺西], Newport [纽波特], and Wrexham [雷瑟汉姆] usually get a nod. Some villages like Hay-on-Wye host important folk culture [威尔士风景] festivals such as literature and music events. Even Chris Gunter is popular.

Wales is quite some place with lung-busting names like Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch and places simply called Pant or Mwnt. Chinese Tourists have created new names for difficult sounding Welsh places. Wales and China can have a bit of fun language exchange it seems. Angharad [安哈蕾德], Rhiannon [莱安诺] and Dafydd [达非德] have made it from the valleys of Glamorgan into the cities of Beijing and Shanghai. Welsh names are travelling. Also travelling from Wales are such great things as Doctor Who and Welsh-production movies. Following years of E.U. Objective One funding and near-independence of the principality’s government, Wales is flourishing. Between free prescriptions, university grants and Welsh whisky exports, there is opportunity galore.  Not bad for a country that lost its primary mining industries in a heartbeat.

 “来自中国的学生，亚伯大学欢迎你们！Welcome to students from China!”

Rhys [莱斯], Gethin [盖亭] and Lowri [萝莉] went into a bar. Don’t worry, there was no trouble! Ieuan [爱恩] was serving that night, because Nia [妮娅] had called in sick. She may have been off drinking with her mate Ffion [菲昂]. We’ll probably never know unless we watch Pobol-y-Cwm (a BBC and S4C TV production since 1974). My friend Tomos [托莫斯] told me that the show is all the rage in Wales. It has been showing as a drama on S4C since 3 days after I was born (so, it started on the first day of November 1982). The channel mostly has success showing rugby, international football and the Eisteddfod. SuperTed, Fireman Sam, and more recently FanBoy & Chum Chum found their creations in Wales via this channel. During my years in Aberystwyth I seldom watched S4C but I did meet numerous local TV stars such as Glan Davies. I can still recall writing his Welsh Male Choir schedule for their U.S. tour. Whilst doing that I was watching Hinterland, a very Scandinavian style detective piece set around Aberystwyth. Bethan [贝覃] was possibly the victim’s name, but I can’t remember…

The 28 letters [28个字母] of the Welsh alphabet [威尔士字母表] have always fascinated me. The lack of J, K, Q, X, V and Z can’t be any good in scrabble.

A, B ,C ,Ch, D, Dd, E, F, Ff, G, Ng, H, I, L, Ll, M, N, O, P, Ph, R, Rh, S, T, Th, U, W, Y

Wales is great for shopping [购物], outdoor activities [居住 户外活动], entertainment [娱乐], education [教育] and general tourism. There are Chinese language websites such as Wales.cn [威尔士]. To be a well-rounded tourist of student in Wales, is to open one’s eyes to endless possibilities and countless dreams. Wales is wonderful. You can find someone called Elenor [艾莲诺] and ask them.

选择亚伯的理由Why Aberystwyth University

My Grandfather came from Welsh lineage and sadly I know so little about the John Roberts side of the family. Stories of lobsters boiling in high-pitched hell gives me the need to learn more about my Welsh forefathers. If one thing that I learnt during my time in Aberystwyth University, it was the need to question and research. So, at least I can dig up the past.

“亚伯被投票选举成为英国最佳大学城，斯旺西大学赢得英国最佳学生体验奖。Aberystwyth has been voted best university town in Britain, Bangor consistently places high for Tutor quality and Swansea University has won an award for being the best student experience in the UK”

Sports [体育] in Wales include the usual array of popular sports. The World Bog Snorkelling Championships [沼泽地徒手潜水锦标赛] are eye-catching if not a little muddy. World class sports feature throughout the calendar: Wales Rally GB [英国威尔士汽车拉力赛], one day cricket internationals [国际板球比赛], mountain biking [威尔士山地自行车], and general cycling [威尔士自行车运动]. Walking [威尔士竞走], rambling and hiking are common too. The Millennium Stadium [卡迪夫千年体育场] is the premier sporting shrine housing music, football and the national sport of rugby. In south Wales you’re more likely to see Cerys [塞瑞斯] playing rugby than football. Her friend Sioned [秀内] in north Wales will equally likely be kicking a football and not the egg-shaped ball. In mid Wales, Catrin [凯特琳] is confused and can opt for all variety of sports. Equally her friend Elin [艾琳] could be uninterested in sport and find plenty to keep her busy. Just ask Alys [艾莉丝] at the local fish and chip shop. Wales has much to offer, just don’t expect a train direct from north to south on the west coast…

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye / Hwyl Fawr

Hwyl fawr ffrindiau,
Hwyl fawr ffrindiau,
Hwyl fawr ffrindiau,
Mae’n amser dweud hwyl fawr.
Twdlw a bant â ni,
bant â ni, bant â ni,
Twdlw a bant â ni,
mae’n amser dweud hwyl fawr.
Goodbye friends,
Goodbye friends,
Goodbye friends,
It’s time to say goodbye.
Toodle-oo and away with us,
away with us, away with us,
Toodle-oo and away with us,
it’s time to say goodbye.

Dongguan Vs. Manchester

oyster28catcher (JRA)1 Comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

 

I undertstand this is hardly a Batman Vs. Superman piece nor a Superman Vs. Batman script. Either way, to me, John, from that there city of Manchester, it is something that always makes me think. Manchester is home. It is my spiritual calling. Yet like places I have resided for a year or more, Dongguan now calls me and draws me back. Like that ex-girlfriend we all try to forget but can’t put of our mind eternally. You know the one. The one that got away. Not that I have that. I just hear others have that. I don’t. Honest. So, after Manchester, I lived in Aberystwyth (Ceredigion, Wales, U.K.), Plymouth (Devonshire, England, U.K.), headed back to Manchester before scattering briefly to Norwich (Norfolk, England, U.K.) before ending up here in Dongguan.

My time in Dongguan started in February 2014 at a township called Houjie. I moved to Changping in August 2017. Geographically, that seemed like quite a big move, which is odd as I left the U.K. for China, and that is a massive distance away. Stats can tell you anything and sometimes they reinforce the obvious. Looking around me, in Dongguan, I’d say this city is wider than any U.K. city; and bigger in many, many ways.

GEOGRAPHY

Manchester covers 243.4 sq mi (630.3 km2) whilst Dongguan covers 952 sq mi (2,465 km2). London sits at 671 sq mi (1,737.9 km2). Manchester has 2,553,379 people. Dongguan has a population of over 8,220,207 (just a few hundred thousand short of London). Manchester is the U.K.’s 2nd city. Dongguan is ranked as the number 8 city. London is the capital of the U.K. London has many underground rivers and surrounds the River Thames. There are ports, although many of historic or simple and small. By comparison, Dongguan has numerous ports as part of the Pearl River Delta megacity. Manchester has three rivers, the Irk, Irwell and Medlock – and a 36 mile (58 km) ship canal from Liverpool’s River Mersey’s estuary (this river starts in the town of Stockport, just south of Manchester).

TRANSPORT & ECONOMY

London has 270 subway stations and 366 railway stations. Manchester has 93 light rail tram stations and 16 railway stations. Manchester is the city that housed the first railway station and the world’s longest railway station platform (Exchange, Manchester/Salford boundary) at 2,238 feet (682 m) long. You could walk along the platform into the next station, Manchester Victoria. London claimed the first underground railway system way back in 1863. Dongguan has Dongguan station, Zhangmutou, Humen station, Changping has several stations but overall from Daojiao to the edges of Dongguan’s eastern outreaches there are collectively fewer than 30 stations.

London’s two airports (Heathrow and City) with four in close proximity (Stansted, Gatwick, Southend and Luton) open the city to the world. Manchester International Airport serves my home city. Barton’s City Airport gives Manchester two airports. Dongguan’s nearest airports are Shenzhen, Macau, Hong Kong, and Guangzhou.

HISTORY

Manchester’s history is deep. From Celtic tribes (the Brigantes), to Romans, the industrial revolution, German bombings in World War Two to present day terrorism, the city has evolved and throbbed with life and love. The Roman fort of Mamucium or Mancunium was created around 79AD (CE). The atom was split in this city. The first stored-program computer was built here. Attitudes have been born in Manchester, such as the formation of the Labour Party and the Suffragette Movement.

Whether it is sports, social impacts, scientific advancements, music, media, engineering, culture or architecture, Manchester has echoed around the world. Pop down to the oldest free library for such a feeling. Chetham’s Library is also where Friedrich Engels met Karl Marx. Marxism and industry have been felt in China for sure, so by default Dongguan was influenced by Manchester.

Dongguan is a baby yet has a history of human life tracing back about 5 thousand years, much like China! The city itself is but a few years shy of passing thirty [city status came in 1985], although Humen’s international impact stretches before 1839 and the First Opium War. Many local people understand this with respects to Anglo-Chinese relations. The city also proudly boasts guerrilla resistance against Second World War invaders. The move from agricultural to manufacturing arrived in the mid-1980s and has ploughed on relentlessly. The city has become globally important in a short space of time. I hear even NASA make some equipment here.

TWIN CITIES, DEMOGRAPHICS & ECONOMY

Manchester’s lack of coastline did nothing to prevent it being ranked the UK’s third largest port by 1963. However, nowadays the port has long been closed. That being said, shipping is opening on a smaller scale to specialist quays. Dongguan houses many overseas Chinese, coming from places such as Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macau and Singapore. Manchester and London are ethnically diverse cities, each with more than 58% Caucasian people. Manchester has a noteworthy Chinese population. Dongguan has a few thousand foreign residents linked to shoes, leather, electronics, furniture and education. London has been a twin city of Beijing since 2006. Manchester has held strong twin city ties with Wuhan since 1986. I’m not aware if Dongguan has a twin city or town but I assume it’d be Wolverhampton or somewhere obscure like Greenock.

LANDMARKS, ENTERTAINMENT & CULTURE

Manchester has many concert halls. These include the classical Bridgewater Concert Hall, the modern Manchester Arena, and nearby the Lowry Centre in Salford Quays. There are gritty and old buildings such as the O2 Apollo Manchester, Dancehouse, Roadhouse, and numerous theatres (e.g Palace Theatre, Opera House, and Library Theatre). Modern buildings sit side by side with old and creates a unique setting. Sports stadiums often host summer concerts. Outdoor concerts can also be found in large parks such as Heaton Park. London houses venues of great magnitude also, from the rotund Royal Albert Hall, to the Hammersmith Apollo to the huge O2 Arena, set in a dome. Parks always have summer concerts. Here Dongguan magazine is a good place to find events, as are websites such as Damai and Dongguan Today. Venues such as the Dongguan Nissan Basketball Centre and the Yulan Theatre provide a backdrop for major events. Square dancing appears to be the local thing, that and KTV at all hours….

EDUCATION

The University of Manchester, Manchester Metropolitan University and Royal Northern College of Music make up three universities in Manchester. By comparison Dongguan is swelling with hundreds of kindergartens, and schools. Numerous colleges and the Dongguan University of Technology [东莞理工学院] create a fantastic pathway for learning opportunity. Manchester is growing and seen as a competitor to the capital city. London’s education base is globally mammoth. It is a truly international centre of education with more overseas students than anywhere else on Earth. Educational institutions and professional faculties cover every subject and basis of life. Like Manchester and Dongguan, London has a huge number of schools, colleges and further education centres in every district.

SPORT

Mention Manchester around the world and few people don’t recognise the name for football. Manchester City play at the Etihad Stadium, a short walk from the city centre. Manchester’s second team, Manchester Utd. are located outside the Manchester-boundary in the Greater Manchester borough of Trafford. Manchester Storm and Manchester Phoenix are the two ice hockey clubs. Manchester Giants, the British Basketball Association contender. There are lower league Gaelic football, rugby league and rugby league clubs. The city has hosted the Commonwealth Games in 2002; The FA Cup finals (1893, 1911, 1915, 1970), the Football League Cup finals, the 2008 UEFA Cup Final, and games from the 1996 UEFA European Football Championship, 2012 Olympics football group stages, and 1966 World Cup. The National Cycling Centre (a velodrome, BMX arena, and mountainbike trail), National Squash Centre and the Manchester Aquatics Centre. Lancashire County Cricket Club adds to a huge history of sport around the city. World class events are commonplace in Manchester.

Dongguan is the national basketball city with many basketball arenas and the Guangdong Southern Tigers. The 2019 FIBA Basketball World Cup will follow in the footsteps of the 2015 Sudirman Cup badminton tournament and 2018 Asian Marathon Championships.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

Adventures at the Astralship?

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你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

Initially we were excited about our stay at the Astralship. It isn’t every day you stay in someone’s dream. That dream being one in transformation made it all the more special. On arrival we parked in one of the many spaces across the quiet country lane. The views southwards and towards the shadows of Glyder Fawr, Elidir Fawr (924m/3,031 ft) and Snowdonia’s wider ranges are dramatic. The weather can certainly enhance or remove the views.

The former Welsh chapel stands like a solid old block of Welsh rock. To the rear is a slightly newer extension, several neighbouring houses and a t-junction that is extremely lacking in traffic. Across the road, by the car park, are acres upon acres of rough farmland, abandoned farm outbuildings and pleasant noises such as birds of prey, sheep and the odd neigh from a horse here and there. Inside the chapel all amenities are provided. A toilet is located at the rear of the building’s extension. By the stilted-bedrooms (two-double and one single) is a spacious shower-room with laundry facilities. You can hang all your damp things outside or equally inside, if the mighty winds are blowing too strongly.

The village of Deiniolen is downhill, and to the right. A pub, The Wellington, and Costcutter flank a charity based E.B.’s café and coffee shop. There are bus services from Caernarfon through the village to Dinorwig (#83). The number 85 goes from Bangor to Llanberis. Capel Maes-y-dref and Pentre Helen are key stops. There are plenty of options to bring food or drink back to the airy kitchen. The table and worktops are perfect for salads and more complex dishes.

The location was ideal for scaling Snowdon via the Miners’ Pass, exploring the plethora of slate mines, museums and castles that litter the lands of North Wales. Further afield, and not by much, Cemaes Bay (I recommend The Harbour for food), ice creams at the Red Boat (Beaumaris), and wanders around Harlech Castle are all easy to access.

Eglwys Grist Llandinorwig stands just slightly lower down and the impressive spire gives a photograph or two. Afon Marchlyn Bach, Afon Goch and a tapestry of streams flow in close proximity. Waking up each day with a warm coffee, and opening the huge front doors to witness a picturesquely charming panorama of Welsh countryside wasn’t bad. The clear views to the Irish Sea on the coast just west of Anglesey are certainly there to be seen. The snug inside the superstructure and the office are armed with windows that carry histrionic views. The vivid interior décor gives a powerful excitement that also brings an element of calmness. Being stirred, yet tranquil is something I did not expect. Move aside budget hotels, hostels and so-called glamourous camping. This was a place that carried magic and it slips inside a shell of heritage, in a way that respects the cultural base it inherits.

The hosts Liam and Aglae went out of there way, were respectful and very friendly. Communication was simple, effective and plenty of advice for local conveniences was given. Their co-host Roger gave us the key and collected it afterwards. He left us a loaf of bread and some milk, alongside fruits and pointed us to the kettle for brews. You can’t beat that. Proper friendly! Thank you kindly for a wonderful place to stay.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

The spirit of football.

oyster28catcher (JRA)3 Comments

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

“We’ll go on getting bad results.” (Jimmy Hill)

13/5/2012

The daylight emerged between the window frame. The curtains had been positioned in a way ill-prepared to create darkness. I had slept surprisingly well despite sticking to the sofa in a slight sweat. I went to the bathroom, had a shower, cleaned my teeth and generally prepared myself for that Sunday’s sunny day. With a spring in my step, I dressed and sat on the sofa. Bhagira the cat and Fuzzy kept me company. The red laser pointer pen activated and entertained my feline friends. Eventually Dan emerged, a little worse for wear. It may have been a cal by our friend Jack Daniels the previous night, or his seemingly strenuous job delivering home deliveries for Asda Walmart, either way his eyes weren’t awake. A coffee fixed that. It was Nescafe but I didn’t care. I enjoyed the warmth and milky taste. With a new sense of alertness, my buddy gave me a lift to Kirkham and Wesham railway station.

Waiting on the platform, pigeons fluttered and the cold polished bricks of over 100 years felt very familiar. I couldn’t recall if I had been there before or if it was just the Lancashire style of old stations. The two-platform station surrounded by sealed off arches and historic sidings had an air of calm, despite the Northern rail service rattling in quite loudly. The train departed, bound for Manchester Airport. I’d exit on platform 13 of Manchester Piccadilly. There, I’d change for Levenshulme, then drop my things at my mum’s house before heading back into Manchester city centre.

That day, May 13th 2012, was a far cry from several 1990’s conclusions to the season. The Castle and Falcon Club, Manchester city centre, was a backstreet dive.  The Dantzic Street location, just off Shudehill hid it from what is now The Printworks and far more modern uprisings. The bar has long closed and the Burtonwood Ales signage has long gone. It was here following a game at Stoke City, I sat with my Dad and his partner Bernadette. Manchester City F.C. had been relegated despite a wonderful 5-2 win at Stoke City. We’d been relegated before in my lifetime, the Premier League in 1995-96

Uwe Rösler as top scorer with just 9 league goals hadn’t helped at all. City were beyond woeful and the moniker as a club that could win cups for cock-ups was born. City had looked happy with a 2-2 draw against Liverpool. They never chased the win. Rösler’s penalty and Kit Symons’s goal that day gave no pleasure later in the evening. But, for me, I did not understand relegation back then. After changing from the very familiar sky blue to Kappa’s laser blue at the beginning of 1997-98, City’s crest also changed and an air of positivity crept in. The results did not have many highs, a 6-0 battering of Swindon and a friendly 2-2 draw in a Manchester Derby as part of Paul Lake’s Testimonial

During 1997-98, Murtaz Shelia, from well-known team Alania Vladkavkaz (sounds like a fashion model?) arrived. Nothing changed. City faced Stockport County and lost 3-1. They hadn’t played their local rivals for 87 years before that day! Another Georgian player entered the fold by January in Kakhaber Tskhadadze. City slipped into the relegation zone. Frank Clark was fired. Joe Royle came in to steady the ship and try to climb up the table. Combative midfield-enforcer Michael Brown won Player of The Year, as City lamented relegation to the third tier with a bizarre friendly game against Jamaica’s national team.

The 1998/99 season was an incongruous one. It had a great climax that remains fresh in club folk-lore but few discuss the oddities of that season. The club had changed from a team of stars and names to a team of relative unknowns. 16 friendlies accommodated a huge squad and before long City’s stuttering season began to build. One player, Ray Kelly, left to play part-time for Bohemians and study in Ireland. Little old City were struggling for off the field stability. As 1999 arrived, City looked far off the promotion race. City stuttered towards the finishing line looking like they’d sneak it before being whipped 2-1 to Wycombe Wanderers at Maine Road. The play-off semi finals arrived and City visited Springfield Park. Paul Dickov’s late crucial equaliser kept City in the tie. The return leg at Maine Road saw a Goater goal, which Wigan fans argued as being hand ball. Graeme Jones had struck the woodwork but City would return to Wembley for the first time in 14 years. The 1999 play-off final is, as they say, history.

Back to June, and Xiamen Gulangyu International Football Tournament 2018 saw Murray’s F.C. finish 7th overall. Not bad from 16 teams. Our first quarter-final game was hellishly muddy and concussion didn’t help my appearances from the bench so well. Every team battled and worked tirelessly in dire muddy conditions and the eventual winners Quanzhou Spartans deservedly took their second title in as many years. It was good to play Chilean Alex, now at Kunming Turtlebar, and also teams we’re familiar with in Hong Kong Krauts and Shenzhen Lions. The organisers of the tournament certainly know the spirit of football.

Returning back to 2012, I’d opted for a hospitality package at City. The QPR game had something about it. The possibility of a title win and being there in style didn’t take much to clutch onto. I’d dreamt of trying the City hospitality for many seasons but never wanted to leave the South Stand. Now, Nat Fatorechi who I shared my seasoncard with, gave a situation where we both wanted a ticket. It wasn’t a tough investment. But now, there is another unfamiliar moment of football, England at the World Cup and in the semi-final since the 1990 edition. I wasn’t in double digits of age then and can safely say I don’t recall any of that tournament.

Fair play to Gareth Southgate. So much more than the butt of a dozen crappy jokes about an under-par golden generation. He has his head firmly screwed on in football. He looked average as a manager at Middlesbrough and dropped into the ranks of England. Unlike many who do that, he didn’t drift off or head to Spain, or punditry too often. His spell as temporary gaffer wasn’t groundbreaking (the games weren’t huge tests, except Spain where a 2-0 lead was chucked away). But, the FA appointed him and for once they gambled on fresh blood with all the qualities of a modest manager and someone who keeps the game simple. He has benefitted from the role of FA’s head of elite development. He seems to know the future youth players well and his squad selection seemed geared to building for Euro 2020 and the 2022 World Cup. Best thing out of Watford since DCI Hunt/Philip Glenister (or Ginger Spice?).

“We’re not creative enough; we’re not positive enough.” (Trevor Brooking)

Remember a game when City faced Boro? We played in our away kit at home. Southgate had his bonce wrapped up and played a blinder. We drew. They went to Europe. That’s the kind of spirit England need, and not that of Rooney or Beckham with their egos and sponsorship deals following them. Look at Messi, he has more minutes advertising per year and it never paid off. Same for tRanaldo. Graft and the kind of grinding football that Leicester City did, with flare, that’s the future in cups. And, City can learn from this England spirit.

“I think it’s bad news for the English game.” (Alan Hansen)

Good to see City links all over the World Cup. Guidetti for Sweden, Boyata with Belgium, Corluka of Croatia, and the list goes on and on. I claim any City link I can. One that stands out is Bury-born Keirin Trippier. During his time at City, Micah Richards was linked with Chelsea and Ar$enil, as Zabaleta was talked about heading to Barca. Coupled with the fact Trippier still was developing physically, he was quite far down. We had a clutch of first teamers that could play RB as an unnatural position. He had little chance. Fair play to him in his evolution at Spurs. His football formation years also featured clubs like Burnley and Barnsley. He knows the game well enough to play for many years. He has appeared for England U18s, England U19s, England U20s, England U21s, and now the senior England squad. He is capable of joining the Masters team one day and could well reach national legendary status with the chance before him now. I wonder what the away friendly game for City, against Barcelona did for his vision. Did it inspire? That came a season after lifting the FA Youth Cup with City. Good luck to him with England and in his future of football.

The Lightning Seeds wrote and released Three Lions in ’96, it had a re-write in 1998 and now 22 years later it is being played in epidemic proportions. David Baddiel and Frank Skinner must be dusting off their karaoke microphones, surely? Will 2020 or 2022 feature new pessimistic quotes to amend Three Lions as a song once again? Tout est Possible. I do get the impression that this song will not go away, regardless of any results! The Lightning Seeds, despite being Scouse are a cracking band, so I won’t complain.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

Grenfell atrocity.

oyster28catcher (JRA)3 Comments

#justice4grenfell

 

Today, I should be focused on the World Cup entering a new audience in Russia. Or, perhaps City’s opening fixture at Arsenal in the 2018/19 season. Then there is the possible peace in our times deal of North Korea and the world. Or the rise of London Breed from San Francisco slums to first black female mayor. She really is phenomenal. Forget the raccoon that scaled a 23-storey building in U.S.A. this week. Instead the media suddenly reminded me of something which faded from coverage and seems almost to be hidden from the public eye. It is a crying shame. Just like ignoring genuine refugees and the Yemen war.

Grenfell.

  • 72 deaths. All could have been prevented.
  • It was not the fault of the emergency services.
  • Head of state, Primer Minister Theresa May couldn’t visit the site. The Queen visited. Prince William visited.
  • Kensington & Chelsea Council failed. They represent one of the wealthiest “Royal” Boroughs. Failed.
  • Gavin Barwell, Housing Minister at that time failed. He ignored an urgent fire safety review. Afterwards he lost his MP seat. He has since been promoted to PM’s Chief of Staff. £120,000 a year isn’t a bad reward for a retard.
  • Has a legacy or justice even got close? Fire prevention, control measures and a realistic reviews has not come (for hundreds of other UK tower blocks).
  • How is the Government taskforce taking over parts of the RBKC council functioning?
  • The independent review of building regulations and fire safety commissioned is deep under way.
  • Public inquiry hearings opened 14 September 2017 and have been adjourned.
  • Suicide has been reported.
  • Stillbirth has been reported.
  • PTSD reported also.
  • Homelessness reported.
  • Fire chief Reinhard Ries in Frankfurt, Germany, spoke expertly about the U.K. poor laws. In Malta, Germany, The Netherlands and Australia, they tore potentially lethal cladding down. Some even evacuated people whilst it was made safe.
  • Neglect, social division, underinvestment, transparency, media elitism…
  • 1973 Summerland disaster; 1991 Knowsley Heights fire; 1999 Garnock Court fire; 2005 Harrow Court fire; 2009 Lakanal House fire; 2016 Shepherd’s Court fire… This has to end – and has to count for something!
  • Lewisham had a fire in a 20-storey block housing 180 people last night at 4.14am. London fire brigade declared the blaze under control at 6.02am.

My condolences after this atrocity.

“I’ve got the Beijing Blues!”

oyster28catcher (JRA)

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

On Saturday morning at 6.20am, I boarded a Didi (think Uber taxi services, but in Chinese) outside my apartment. The muggy morning air added to exhaustion from a game of football the previous night.

On arriving at Shenzhen Airport an hour later, I checked in, with my hand luggage only and swiftly walked to Costa Coffee. Here I had a brew, a sandwich and then met David/John/Beckham (he has three English names!) leader of Huizhou Blues Manchester City Official Supporters Club. Through a combination of pigeon Chinese and WeChat’s in-application translator, we talked and eventually boarded flight ZH9103 bound for the capital city, Beijing. On arrival David/John/Beckham (who stopped following Man Utd following Ferguson’s boot being lashed at his boyhood hero David Beckham) and I grabbed a taxi. I thought we were going to the hotel. Nope, we ended up at St. Joseph’s Church. From there we boarded another taxi. Were we heading to the hotel? No. We stopped at another church. However, after a stroll we ended up in Beihai Park which is quite sweet.

The final taxi took us to Tian’anmen Guangcheng. David/John/Beckham’s first time in the capital was quite different and I was happy to share his first flight and journey around the famous old city. Finally we ended up at the hotel around 8pm. Here we met Martin Ng of Hong Kong Blues and headed for dinner. A grand lamb hotpot was called for. It answered. Off back to the hotel we went, with full bellies.

After an early breakfast I met all of the presidents of each Manchester City Official Supporters Club in China.They hailed from Hong Kong, Shanghai, Qingdao, Dalian, Chengdu, Guangzhou, Huizhou, Chongqing, Nanjing, Xi’an and the host city Beijing.

We each boarded vehicles and headed to Kaiwen Sports Academy in a northern part of the city. The impressive multi-sports education facility features a tranquil running track amongst trees, landscaped sporting arenas suitable for baseball, fencing, football, golf and a whole host of other sports. Around tables we sat in an function room and discussed social media, supporters in China and much more. Our ideas were requested and presentations given. It struck me how proud I have become of Manchester City. Through this partnership, City2City, Cityzens Giving, City in the Community, and coaching schemes you can really feel how big the club’s longterm reach has become. From the dull old days of Platt Lane and a sagging football stadium, City have emerged into a prosperous era, that didn’t just begin in 2008 – and didn’t just take flight due to trophies and player investment. Community has played a vital role. It always will. This is our City. This is our way.

Following the first act of the meeting, we lunched together, had another meeting and then went to play football with City’s China-based coaches. After than win, we changed, had a barbecue and watched the City game (sandwiched around photos and presentations to the new supporters clubs). The trophy was lifted and we drifted back, content with a wonderful and constructive weekend. The only down side to the whole thing was a cancelled flight followed by delay after delay after delay in the flight taking off. Safety first – the storms in south China were pretty ferocious.

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

 

Hello 各位会长：Hello Presidents:

大家好，三天的北京之行匆匆而过，大家也即将或已经踏上了回家的归程，希望大家都能一路平安！Hello everyone, the three-day trip to Beijing passed by in a hurry, we are about to start on the homeward journey, I hope we can all go safely!

三天的时间说长不长，但相信大家都对彼此加深了一些印象，希望我们为力能有更多的互动！Three days is not a long time, but I believe that we have made some impression on each other, I hope we can have more interaction for the strength!

接下来，就麻烦各位会长能将其他会长拉到自己的球迷群，互相学习互相提高！

Next, I would like to ask the Presidents to bring the other Presidents to their own fans, learning from each other and improving each other!

!祝好！Good day

KEVIN, MANCHESTER CITY (CHINA)

多么美妙的一天！What a wonderful day it was！

首先，感谢曼城中国办公室，让我们聚集在一起，认识交流分享经验。
First of all, thank to office of Manchester City for bringing us together and sharing our experience.

从Kevin和Andrew手中接过会旗，从6位老会长手中接过认证礼盒，成都曼城球迷会正式加入曼城官方球迷会.
We have received the flag and certification box from Kevin and Andrew alongside 6 current presidents. Chengdu has officially joined the Manchester City OSC.

感谢所有曼城工作室人员以及所有会长在认证期间给予我们帮助，使我们在一周内完成认证资料的准备
Thanks to all the City official workers and presidents for giving us help during the certification period, so that we could complete the preparation of certification materials within a week.

感谢48仙女们，到机场接机，并全程陪吃陪喝陪睡，爱你们比心
Thanks to the 48 fairies to pick up the plane at the airport and accompany them all the time. Love you super！

最后，非常高兴见到你们！期待下一次的见面
In the end, I’m very glad to see you! Look forward to the next meeting.

GRATINGS,

MANCHESTER CITY OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS CLUB (CHENGDU)

本人有幸作为北京曼城幽月球迷会的负责人参与“冠军之城”北京活动。2012年的曼城中国行早就了我和俊达（北京曼城幽月球迷会负责人），Vicky（上海曼城球迷会负责人），小欣（广州蓝月曼城球迷会负责人）的缘分~而今香港，深圳，青岛，南京，西安，成都，惠州官方球迷会相继得到官方认证！各位负责人在曼城中国办公室的支持下齐聚北京！感谢球队带给我们的一个赛季的美好！感谢曼城俱乐部一直一来对中国球迷的关怀！感谢曼城中国办公室对于协会支持和帮助！感谢北京曼城幽月球迷会全体会员对于各种活动的参与和配合！感谢我的队员璐铮，付强，博轩对于临时指派工作的无偿奉献！感谢各地负责人一直以来的辛勤付出！未来无限精彩，无限可能，愿能与诸位共同见证！We are the champion ！Love u all ！

I was honored to participate in the “Champion City” Beijing event as head of the Man City Moon Fans’ Club in Beijing. The 2012 Manchester City China Tour was early for me and Junda, Vicky, Shanghai Manchester City Fans’ Association Chief. Xiao Xin (Guangzhou Lanyue Man City Fan Club Leader) fate ~ Today, Hong Kong, Shenzhen, Qingdao, Nanjing, Xi’an, Chengdu, Huizhou official fans have been officially certified! With the support of Manchester City’s China Office, all the leaders gathered in Beijing! Thanks to the team to bring us a good season! Thanks to the Manchester City Football Club for always showing concern to the Chinese fans! Thanks to Man City China Office for its support and help to the Association! Thank you to all the members of Beijing Man City Moon Fans Club for their participation and cooperation in various activities! Thanks to my teammate Lu Zheng, Fu Qiang, Bo Xuan for the temporary assignment of free dedication! Thank all the responsible people all over the world for their hard work! Future infinite wonderful, unlimited possibilities, wish to witness together with you! We are the champion! Love you all！

CHRIS,

MANCHESTER CITY OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS CLUB (BEIJING)

今天起
我们就是
西安曼城官方球迷会啦
💫
1个月的认证时间不长不短
有了俱乐部和其他球迷会的帮助
一切都容易起来
🤪
我们成立的9个月里
一起成长
谢谢你们的信任 陪伴 理解

其他城迷会都很优秀
也很感谢昨天各位会长大大的分享
我们西安要学习的还有很多
很高兴认识你们
以后还请多多赐教呀
🏻
俱乐部小哥哥们辛苦啦
活动很棒哦
🏻
希望中国城迷会越办越好
也希望我城战绩越来越棒

C’mon City

We are the Champions

今天起
我们就是
西安曼城官方球迷会啦
💫
1个月的认证时间不长不短
有了俱乐部和其他球迷会的帮助
一切都容易起来
🤪
我们成立的9个月里
一起成长
谢谢你们的信任 陪伴 理解

其他城迷会都很优秀
也很感谢昨天各位会长大大的分享
我们西安要学习的还有很多
很高兴认识你们
以后还请多多赐教呀
🏻
俱乐部小哥哥们辛苦啦
活动很棒哦
🏻
希望中国城迷会越办越好
也希望我城战绩越来越棒

C’mon City

We are the Champions

From today
We just
Official fan club of Xi’an Manchester City

1 month certification period is not long
With the help of clubs and other fan clubs
Everything is easy
🤪
In the nine months since we were founded
Growing up together
Thank you for your trust, your company, your understanding

The other city fans are great
And thanks to all the Presidents who shared so much yesterday
We have a lot to learn in Xi’an
Nice to meet you
Please give me more advice later
🏻
Good job, club buddies
Great event, huh?
🏻
I hope Chinatown fans are getting better
I want my city to be better

C’mon City

We are the Champions

PEIYAO,

MANCHESTER CITY OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS CLUB (XI’AN)

充实的一天
感谢俱乐部让我们相识。
A full day
Thanks to the club, we got to know each other.

MANCHESTER CITY OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS CLUB (QINGDAO)

恭喜曼彻斯特城市球队获得英超冠军。我们也得到曼城官方认证了！大连曼城球迷会！牛逼！！！
Congratulations to the Manchester City team on winning the England Premier League title .We also got official certification from Manchester City! Dalian City fan club! Awesome!!!

MANCHESTER CITY OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS CLUB (DALIAN)

感謝各位兄弟姐妹的熱情招待和俱樂部所有領導和大佬給予的學習机會。

Thank you all for your warm hospitality and the learning opportunities offered by all the leaders and big shots of the club. Thank you, brother and sister.

很感恩在 .. 陌生的城市找到熟悉的角落，飄洋過海看見大家與各位結緣

I am grateful to find a familiar corner in a strange city, and I see that we are related to you

MARTIN NG,

MANCHESTER CITY OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS CLUB (HONG KONG)

下次來惠州吧. Come to Huizhou next time.

DAVID,

MANCHESTER CITY OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS CLUB (HUIZHOU)

Thank you kindly to everyone. 谢谢你们。You have inspired me in more ways than you know possible. I hope to visit every supporters club in China over the next year.  If you are in Dongguan or Shenzhen, drop me a message. Dinner is on me. The bill, that is.

We are all ambassadors to the great football club and Champions, that is Manchester City. I’m a believer in giving without expectation to receive. I’m sure if we all work very hard, together, we can deliver a fan base in China that is rich in diversity, attractive to senior club members and welcoming to all. We can make an impact right here, right now. This is our City, no matter where we are.

Thanks again for the support of Beijing! 再次感谢北京方面的大力支持

City ’til I die. Yours in football and City.

JOHN ACTON,

MANCHESTER CITY OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS CLUB (SHENZHEN)

Music to my ears

oyster28catcher (JRA)

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

The idea of collaboration music and jamming dates back to cavemen funking around their underground caves. I imagine the cavewomen were beating away the Stone Age equivalent of Harvey Weinstein. Instead of clubbing, to the smooth beats of Hacienda nights.

Some of the best writing I have ever read, has been sang. Great examples of these well-written songs have been performed by the likes of Sarah McLachlan, Meat Loaf, Johnny Cash, Oasis, Doves, Arcade Fire, and the list goes on and on. Music for me, is something tight to my own moods. Alex Clare’s Whispering lyrics can be haunting and invoke the notion of falling-down and beig lost.

But I gotta get out; I gotta break it out now; Before the final crack of dawn; So we gotta make the most; Of our one night together; When it’s over you know; We’ll both be so alone
Meat Loaf, Bat Out Of Hell

Insomnia by Faithless can ratchet up the intensity of excitement. Ever since hearing it blast from the Maine Road tannoy systems, it has held me. I plead guilty. The Maine Road and Etihad Stadium (City of Manchester Stadium) PA systems have screeched Right Here, Right Now of Fatboy Slim fame, Brainbug’s Nightmare, Bonobo’s Flutter and Arcade Fire’s Wake Up. Alongside Manchester City’s The Boys In Blue and Funky City, they are essential matchday and life listening.

Meat Loaf has accompanied me on journeys with my Dad up the motorway and back, to Cleveleys, Morecambe and many a day out. Midnight at the lost and found, seems to be my earliest memory of Marvin Aday’s music. Since then epic albums, lesser celebrated work and my devoted following to all things about that great Texan have followed me in life. Some days it don’t come easy, but there is a song for that day.

You turn around and life’s passed you by; You look to those you love; To ask them why?
Doves,  There Goes The Fear

Whilst a piece of music in the TV show Due South by Jay Semko, Jack Lenz and John McCarthy, called Victoria’s Secret always proved quite emotive, the singer Sarah McLachlan featured often. Her hit Possession from the album Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, proved to be rather emotive. The re-runs of Due South on TV coincided with my Nana’s death and my super dog Pup’s passing away too.

memories trapped in time; the night is my companion, and solitude my guide; would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?
Sarah McLachlan, Possession

Manchester has a rich music history, with bands from Herman’s Hermits, to Joy Division, Doves and Take That all amongst the star names. There have been many songs written in this city of mine, that I call home. My first real taste of Mancunian music was the band Sub Sub, who would go on to form a band that I loved and still do, Doves. If there ain’t no love, then what’s the use? Another great lyricist was busker-pop Badly Drawn Boy, who I couldn’t draw even if I tried my best. I grew up on an odd collection of music in Wheatus, Lighning Seeds, Super Furry Animals, Queen, Oasis, Tears for Fears, the Fraggle Rock soundtrack and Thunderbirds. On exiting vinyl, my first CD was Kaleef’s Golden Brown. The five track CD featured 4 reworkings, of effectively a reworking of Golden Brown, originally sang by The Stranglers. I wonder what ever happened to that Rochdale-based hip hop rap crew.

Ipso facto; Using up your oxygen; You know I’m shallow; Calling out for extra help
Badly Drawn Boy, Something to Talk About

Not too long after before first CD, I entered the Now music series with Now That’s What I Call Music! 32. Tina Turner’s Goldeneye, U2’s Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me and Heaven for Everyone by Queen won my ears over. Besides it featured Roll With It by Oasis. It was the law to own it. The second cassette featured Gangsta’s Paradise by Coolio, with L.V. and Renegade Master by Wildchild. 1995’s finest music was all in one place. I wouldn’t lie to you, and that’s the truth!

Going back to caveman Weinstein, it’s a man’s, man’s man’s world, and a Best of James Brown CD was my second purchase. Every lyric he spoke or sang was like poetry and my attraction to blues was swung over following an evening watching cult movie The Blues Brother on TV with my mum.

The Nine Inch Nails and Johnny Cash’s cover of Hurt stings the ears with painful lyrics, wrapped in suffering and seemingly lonely. Void of life, yet full of vim.

And you could have it all; My empire of dirt; I will let you down; I will make you hurt
Johnny Cash – Hurt

That song Hurt reminded me of perhaps one of the saddest songs ever, The Cat’s In The Cradle by Harry Chapin. In some ways it is sadness, in other ways it is pure beauty. Like a good book, it slowly reveals a story and finishes with a clear plot.

And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me; He’d grown up just like me; My boy was just like me.
Harry Chapin – Cat’s In The Cradle

And what is the ultimate song? For me it isn’t what has been written or has remained unwritten. It is the moments and connection from songs to life. Some Cities, an album by Doves reminds me of my university days. We can only listen to music right here, right now until we find a brighter day. The seeds of time won’t last forever – after all there is only one way of life, and that’s your own. You should throw your arms open wide because we’re gonna ride forever, or we’re gonna live forever. If I leave here tomorrow at least I still have my memories.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

Unfinished pieces of writing.

oyster28catcher (JRA)

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

I found four unfinished pieces of writing.

#1 The signals are there. All signs point to misdirection. The bright colours fade to grey. There is no disco ball on this journey. The next few moments may decide if the rainbow reaches a pot of gold or a muddy pond of I’ll repute. What is the destination? A journey into the unknown. Nothing is certain but endless entropy and the final closing of your eyes. But, don’t we all deserve a little more? No. Fate is reaction after reaction with reflected deflections and noodles shaped highways. The soul, that vehicle of being craves a smooth journey, but what will the voyage bring? When is it our time? If not now, when? [March 2018]

#2 Can you do your best, if your fate is in the hand of others? Can you feel love, alone? Can you fly high, when your feet are stuck in concrete? Can the uncertain, make the certain less certain and more foggy? How vague is the fog that shrouds the darkest night? What news can deliver the righteous sight? If you support and ask for no support, will you feel held up as the sea covers up your feet? Where are you? Where are you, really? Are you here? Or, did you leave long ago? What happened to make this so unclear? This night, this eve, this moment of fear. Or, I could… [March 2018]

#3 When all else fails, or you feel low, there are always places to go. Beyond the days that make you feel blue, between the skies ever so grey, there are words looking for you. They’re everywhere, in orders so plentiful, ensuring life isn’t dull. They won’t hold you tight, or try to end a fight, but they are here, here alright. [October 2017]

#4 Things I like: 九层塔 jiǔcéngtǎ (basil); 番茄 fānqié (tomato); 柠檬草 níngméngcǎo (lemongrass); 迷迭香 mídiéxiāng (rosemary); and 熏衣草 xūnyīcǎo (lavender). I like them because they make mosquitoes fuck off. [March 2018]

I could finish them but I don’t feel I want to. They can stand alone, with no completion in mind.

We are the champions! 我们是冠军！

We are the champions of England! 英格兰的冠军！

City made it double! 曼城是双料冠军！

The boys in blue will never give in. 蓝色军团从不妥协！

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

The Trials of Life

oyster28catcher (JRA)

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

Have you ever found your mind to be scattered almost everywhere simultaneously at the same time? Have you ever doubted the ground you stand upon as being this very Earth? Have you ever wondered why some things happen to you and not other people? Did you ever start to believe karma is real because once you threw a crisp packet into a litter bin, but it hit the side and blew away in the wind? Do bad days last forever? Has a music number from the genre of the blues been written just for you? Just exactly, how rainy is the day that never stops raining? If pain is temporary and class is permanent, then why did it hurt for so long? If good luck and bad luck are in a bar, then why does good luck choose to stay there and not visit you? How many instances of terrible fortune does it take to defy a fortune cookie? Did Coldplay write your life story? Anyway, it could be worse. I could support the Red Devils!

 

Today, a Thursday, and the fourth working day of a six-day week. Today and tomorrow are exams across the school. The midterm indicator exams. Nothing too special or worrying but amongst our foreign teacher team we have eradicated the need for oral exams at this time. Continual assessment and encouragement is of much more value. Besides it shows that you have more familiarity to the students and parents. For me, it has much more value. On Monday, Operation Greenblue commenced in class 1F. We have now five small rectangles of mint, lavender, rosemary, thyme, tomatoes and lemongrass in the process of growing. Even after two days, excited students peered upon the first sprouts of life. Marcus, the tallest boy, requested that we grow watermelons soon. We shall do our best. Victorie, the tallest girl, has given us all a huge rosemary plant. I encourage their enthusiasm and in turn their new plants will discourage mosquitoes. Meanwhile. my own small crop in my apartment is emerging well. Bye, bye mosquitoes?

 

In around 3 weeks we must stage a school drama and I am working on a script. I’ll add it after the final signature. I want something original and challenging for my 6-7 year-old tribe of talent. That’s why I am here, right? To be the CHAMPION equivalent of Pep Guardiola in the classroom. Surely, I cannot stop evolving simply because I have taught the words long, short, same, and different, this is not enough. Aim high. Later the job will be more rewarding.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

Act 1: The dawn chorus [Music: Bring Me Sunshine, Ashleigh Wood]

Location: by a tree.

Lewson (narrator): A new day is dawning and all around the tree, sleepy nights are ending with waking yawns.

Sabrina Sunshine: Wow. Today will be a beautiful and bright day. I will make sure of that.

Aaron (bird): Yes, what a delightful day it will be.

CK/Tik (bird): I can’t wait for some yummy worms today.

Hardy (bird): I’m going to sing in my beautiful voice and wake everybody.

Doris (bird): I am a bird – and that means there is no homework!

Angela (Miss Rabbit): I love hopping, shopping and beat box popping.

Kristy Kangaroo: I like hopping too. I hope you get to see me hop all day!

  
Act 2: The Storm steals the sun [Music: Blue Moon]

Location: by another darker tree.

Allen (narrator): A naughty team is being led by Naughty Natalie. She really is very naughty!

Naughty Natalie: I don’t like the sun. It is all shiny and bright, shining in the sky so happily.

Monster Marcus: Yes, I like a dark night with the glow of the moon.

Typhoon Tyler: I like wind. Lots and lots of wind. I don’t mind of it is sunny or dark.

Marline the moon: I shine best at night. I need the sun for my light, but I can reflect with a smaller light if needed.

Tony the Tiger: Naughty Natalie, I have an idea! Let’s steal the sun and give the moon a new home.

Leon the Lion: Oh, you are naughty but I like you!

  
Act 3: The hunt for the sun [Music: Benny Hill theme tune]

Location: a tree by a small bridge.

Alice (narrator): In the U.K. people are always looking for the sun. Today, all around the world, many more animals and people are looking for the sun. Will they find the sun? Will they save the day?

Happy Henry (goat): I’m big Happy Henry, they all know me. I eat grass, whilst you sit on your…

Billy the kid (goat): Stop, I’m Billy the kid, a goat that did, not do homework, for I was chewing some grass, sat upon my…

Jimmy Jams (goat): Stop! I’m Jimmy Jams, a goat who slams, words for fun, out in the sun.

Candy the Caterpillar:  I have too many legs. It takes me an hour to tie my shoe laces. We’ve been walking for hours looking for the sun. It is too dark to find our lovely sun.

Kitty Cat: Don’t worry, I’m a cool cat and we look for food at night. That’s right. We can find anything at night. [Kitty Cat trips over in the dark]

Jumping Jessie Cat: Meeeeeoowwww, sunny, sunny sun, where are you? The sun is far too big to hide!

  
Act 4: Saving the sun [Music: Run Boy Run]

Location: A different tree, that looks like the other trees.

Allen (narrator): Many hours passed. A team of superheroes was called into action. Let’s get ready for action. Action!

Rocket Roselle: We have been flying around schools, parks, hospitals and even Manchester but we cannot find the sun!

Super Soffy: We can look around like the Old McDonald song. We can look here, there, everywhere…

Daring Dongyee: [sings] Old McDonald had a farm… [laughs] We can save the world, one step at a time. Where shall we look now?

Doctor Evan: I have been thinking and the sun is too big to hide. It must be on the other side of the world.

Kind Kelly: Okay, let’s go. Super Soffy and Rocket Roselle, you can fly there. Doctor Evan, Special Sharon and I can take a taxi.

Special Sharon: I might walk there. I don’t like taxis.

Altogether: Off we go, to save the day! We are stronger together!

  
Act 5: Altogether now [Music: Fight for the right to party]

Location: by two trees.

Allen (narrator): Our bold heroes find the other side of the world. After waiting for the taxi to arrive and making a very large payment, our heroes find the sun. The sun is trapped by Naughty Natalie.

Super Soffy: Give us back the sun!

Monster Marcus: You will not stop us. Ha ha ha. You are no Super Baby!

Doctor Evan: A baby can’t be super. I’ve never even seen a baby cook for themselves!

Typhoon Tyler: We will fight to the end!

Sunshine Sabrina: I just want to shine in the day and make everyone happy.

Daring Dongyee: Okay

Naughty Natalie: I will win this fight. Ha ha ha.

Marline the moon: I want to be alone – all by myself. No sun. Just me, the moon!

Tony the Tiger: Grrrrrreat

Leon the Lion: Let’s eat the sun. I bet it tastes lovely and hot.

Kind Kelly: You will do no such thing.

Special Sharon: I don’t want to fight!

 

[breakdancing battle]

 

[rock, paper, scissors fight]

 

[arm-wrestling fight]

 

Justin Time: Wait! Wait! Wait! Stop! Stop! Stop! We all need the sun. We all need the moon. We all need day to play and we all need night to sleep.

Doctor Evan: Yes, Justin Time, you are right. We need to be friends. We must enjoy both the day and the night.

Jumping Jessie Cat: All we need is love.

Altogether: {sings} du du du duhhh

Victoire Violin:

[sings] I love you. You love me. We love each other and we’re family.

Altogether: [sings] I love you. You love me. We love each other and we’re family. [and dancing]

  
Students bow to audience and say, “Thank you kindly for watching our performance. Have a happy day today, tomorrow and keep smiling!”

[Music: Hello Sunshine, Super Furry Animals]
 

 

 

If I could only find the words, then I would write it all down…

oyster28catcher (JRA)

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

‘If I could only find the words, then I would write it all down…’ (Read ’em and Weep lyrics by Jim Steinman/sang by Meat Loaf)

Where are the great writers? They are everywhere. Songwriters, scriptwriters, playwrights, newspaper correspondents, comedians, bloggers, and authors. Great writers are everywhere. I am nowhere near them. I just enjoy writing and have ambitions. The popular writers spill off shelves in major bookstores, on eBook devices, and fill newspaper reviews about their works. The modern classics and classics get published in varied and often colourful editions. Some copies get graphic novel versions or huge distorted modifications to lure in new and old readers alike. Books are wonderful and shouldn’t need a World Reading Day to attract a soul. Impressive braille, audiobooks and many other delightful formats, such as large print, keep penned words open to the widest possible audiences. And, then there are translations! Some of the Harry Potter novel serials have reached 80 or so languages, including Scots, Hindi, and Chinese.

‘muckle, beefy-boukit man wi a stumpie wee craigie’ (Mr Dursley in Scots, from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone)

The novelists aren’t a bad place to start. I find Sir Arthur Conan Doye and H.G. Wells have caught my eye more and most from the considered classical writers. The Valley of Fear and The Sign of the Four are two of the former writer’s most gripping examples.

superfudgeLooking across the metaphysical divide at female writers, there are some wonderful writers in Mary Shelley (Frankenstein: or, The Modern Prometheus; Rambles in Germany and Italy in 1840, 1842 and 1843), Elzabeth Gaskell (Cranford), Val McDermid (Trick of the Dark), the Poet Laureate for Great Britain Dame Carol Ann Duffy, Enid Blyton (The Island of Adventure), Edith Nesbit (Think Five Children and It, and not Stephen King’s It), Agatha Christie (By the Pricking of My Thumbs), Betrix Potter (The Tale of Peter Rabbit and 22 other similar tales), and Judy Blume (Fudge-a-mania and books that hist topics such as masturbation, racism, bullying, menstruation, divorce and other such family topics). But, most importantly, when I pick up a book, it isn’t based on the author’s gender.

now that daysIn my childhood, my varied reading included Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book; Jack London’s White Fang, The Sea Wolf; Colin Dann’s The Animals of Farthing Wood; Felix Salten’s Bambi; Aileen Fisher’s Now That Days Are Colder; Herman Melville’s Moby Dick; and a set of World Encyclopedias given to me by Mr Andrew Jones, in my final days in class 5AJ.

‘Now that days are colder, now that leaves are down, where are all the chipmunks at the edge of town?’ (Aileen Fisher’s Now That Days Are Colder)

roald dahlAs I grew from size 9 shoes to size 12 shoes, I picked up such reads as Eoin Colfer’s Benny and Omar, and soon discovered Michael Crichton. J.R.R. Tolkien was read with vigour. The college years involved Roald Dahl’s complete works getting a read. Douglas Adams and George Orwell added to the vibrant multihued reading material. I even had a crack at the works of Robert Louis Stevenson and Charles Dickins. Amongst the known names, I recall reading two pieces that really caught my attention. The first was about CJD and prionic diseases. The title was rather welcoming, Deadly Feasts: The “Prion” Controversy and the Public’s Health by Richard Rhodes. There is a real detective feel to this book. It zips from cannibals in New Guinea, cattle globally, young people in America, Britain and France – and beyond. It really makes you think and carries a powerful warning about beef, and eating meat. That being said, I carried on eating meat after a year’s experiment as a vegetarian.

‘Don’t gobblefunk around with words.’ (Roald Dahl’s The B.F.G.)

wewishThe second covered a dark period of recent history and journalist Philip Gourevitch’s We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda (the link directs to chapter one). The theme chronicles the 1994 Rwandan Genocide, in which an estimated 1,000,000 Tutsis and Hutus were killed. What shocked me, was how neighbours turned on themselves and the psychological effects followd. It skirts on the political challenges of survival. It is gripping and full of pain. I even had a crack at the complete works of one William Shakespeare. The dramas make for tough reading but nevertheless their importance and influence is beyond comparison.

‘At least fifty mostly decomposed cadavers covered the floor, wadded in clothing, their belongings strewn about and smashed. Macheted skulls had rolled here and there.’ (Philip Gourevitch’s We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda)

aberAt university I switched into daydreaming mode and the movie popularity of The Lord of the Rings led to a re-read of everything J.R.R. Tolkien. Between daydreaming, textbooks and general procrastination of university work, I found little time for reading. There was always something shiny or distracting. However, I did read through the entire available works of Michael Crichton and the brilliant noir writer Malcolm Pryce – his Aberystwyth Mon Amour series being topical to my location.

‘That’s the trouble with people like you, Knight, you only know how to mock. How to break things. You don’t know how to create anything. You never did.’ (Malcolm Pryce, Aberystwyth Mon Amour)

JurassicparkJurassic Park had been on and off my bookshelf since my mother bought me an omnibus edition, with the novel Congo included. The distinctive movie red, yellow and black logo made for great artwork but within the text was something more appealing. Scientific facts mixed with imagination and fiction. Like every book I have read by the late Michael Crichton, there are technical descriptions crossing the genres of action (Prey), science fiction (Micro), thrillers (Disclosure), and medical fiction (Five Patients). One of my favourite pieces has been Eaters of the Dead [a tale of Ahmad ibn Fadlan’s own interpretation of his genuine voyage north and his understandings with and reflections of Vikings], however the posthumous release of the 1974 penned piece Dragon Teeth [fossil hunters in the historical fiction form] comes close. But then, Pirate Latitudes, as action goes is damn exhilarating. Whilst the movies and series versions of some of his works never live up to the style of his writing, I hope that those who watch them gain enough curiosity to pick up the books. 200 million book sales is too few for such a great writer.

‘All major changes are like death. You can’t see to the other side until you are there.’ (Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park)

ducksFollowing university, I dipped in and out of books like rain lashing the rooftops of Manchester. Ian Fleming’s great travel novellas sporting a certain James Bond gripped me for a while. Every shadow writer of that spy-battering ram has been read since. From BBC’s The Fast Show, comedy writer Charlie Higson has delivered great slices of young Bond novels for teenagers and a series called The Enemy. Well worth of a read. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert should be reviewed by the #MeToo movement. Forget 50 Shades of Gray! George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty Four actual reads as a documentary and doesn’t seem like fiction in one way! The entire works of Christoher Brookmyre was far more than an Attack Of The Unsinkable Rubber Ducks – more like All Fun And Games Until Someone Loses An Eye. Every book of his will grip you tight – don’t be fooled by his colourful covers.

“People are islands,’ she said. ‘They don’t really touch. However close they are, they’re really quite separate. Even if they’ve been married for fifty years.” (Ian Fleming, Casino Royale)

psychoIn China, I have been limited to the works of Andy McNab (notably the Nick Stone and Tom Buckingham series) alongside other odds and ends found on bar book exchange shelves or tucked away collecting dust in book shops. I have found time to re-read Peter Pan, by playwright J.M. Barrie. Johnny Marr’s autobiography Set the Boy Free, War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy (which wasn’t to my enjoyment, and the riveting Moby Dick, by Herman Melville. The complete works of Jon Ronson (I thoroughly recommend The Psychopath Test) have been perused. The Welsh neo-journalist loves a good debunk or conspiracy to grip and twist until all the juices ooze out into the pages. Hunter S. Thompson (Hell’s Angels) would be proud of his works! I wonder if Jon Ronson has booked a firework-clad funeral for his future passing.

touchMy obsession with Mount Everest has drawn me to a related selection of books. I read most of these in the shadow of the mountain during January 2017. The following works were all written following the 1996 disaster in which many climbers and sherpas lost their lives.

“Ultimately, the Buddhist teachings say, misfortune happens less often to those whose motives are pure.”  (Jamling Tenzing Norgay, Touching My Father’s Soul: A Sherpa’s Sacred Jouney to the Top of Everest)
  • Into Thin Air: Death on Everest – a well-known climbing disaster book by Jon Krakauer;
  • The Climb by Anatoli Boukreev;
  • Left For Dead: My Journey Home from Everest, penned by Beck Weathers;
  • Touching my father’s soul: a Sherpa’s journey to the top of Everest, by Jamling Tenzing Norgay;
  • Climbing High – a lesser known read by Danish Psychological Counselor and climber Lene Gammelgaard;
  • The Other Side of Everest by Matt Dickinson.

If you piece together the events on the mountain based on the accounts and reports received soon after and long after, you will be no clearer as to what happened – other than it being a monumental mess of tragic proportions. The best of the bunch for me, was Jamling Tenzing Norgay’s account, as it touched on the spirituality and complexity of Sherpa and beliefs within the shadows of the highest mountain peak on our Earth. It also explored his relations and the effects of living in the following of his father Sherpa Tenzing Norgay.

“Colonel Vivian had convinced himself that Ivor Montagu’s enthusiasm for Ping-Pong was a cover for something more sinister.” (Ben Macintyre, Operation Mincemeat: How a Dead Man and a Bizarre Plan Fooled the Nazis and Assured an Allied Victory)

mincemeatSince that rambling holiday to Nepal, I have picked up Ben Macintyre’s Operation Mincemeat at Murray’s Irish Pub in Dongcheng. Since then Double Cross, Agent Zig-Zag and just this week Rogue Heroes: The History of the SAS, Britain’s Secret Special Forces Unit That Sabotaged the Nazis and Changed the Nature of War have followed. For Your Eyes Only: Ian Fleming and James Bond, was a book I read in 2008 and didn’t enjoy quite as much as his other well-researched and fine-tuned storytelling. Facts and simple description, even criticism and questioning of reported myths bore at you like an angry wolf. They are real page turners, not bogged down by over-complicated technical terminology and wordings unnecessary. The Times columinist cuts a good read up and builds a remarkably fascinating picture of moments in history. I guess with an extra day of freedom each year, he has extra time to write. His birthday being on Christmas Day. Some other writers lose their focus and clutter text or fill pages for fun. Every page of Macintyre’s work is blessed by an assiduous and attentive hand. His mind has carved questions in reported stories and embellishments that others may have accepted. When it comes to knowns, he wants the reader not just to read, but use the full force of their frontal lobes.  Next up, I will re-read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. To pick that particulatr gem up will be like revisiting an old friend. Another good friend could even be Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. Not a single movie version has touched on the depth of that epic adventure!

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

Definitely Maybe Almighty

oyster28catcher (JRA)

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

Chinese New Year had reached Manchester and the great city delivered a colourful display of culture. It has done so for many a year and shall forever more do so. This year a giant dragon filled St Ann’s Square and activities spread over the city. The Almighty Sometimes provided an afternoon’s entertainment. The Royal Exchange Theatre have always been a bold and open-minded kind of theatre. They are open to all and test waters that others wouldn’t even think about it.

The Almighty Sometimes, as penned by Kendall Feaver, had been converted from though to words to a stageplay excellently. Katy Rudd, as director, and her team dropped a monster of a show into the arms of the watching. Tackling both language and the use of medication to chemically castrate those who battle their imaginations and thoughts, this production had sharp-edged teeth. Norah Lopez Holden is a beautiful actress, and her character Anna has a mind more wide and dreamy than most. The actress sucks you into her head and the character is someone you attach to, instantly. A Mancunian spin and by local actress Julie Hesmondhalgh (who you soon forget as playing Hayley from Coronation Street) and Mike Noble’s nasal tones as Oliver support a cast with actress Sharon Duncan-Brewster portraying Vivienne – the child psychiatrist.

Lucy Carter’s lighting, the simple set design by Rosanna Vise and striking sounds by Giles Thomas enhance Vicki Manderson’s movement directions. The dialogue, much as the original script, is gripping. It plucks strings on the heart if the banjo and jabs away drumbeats using smashing drumstick movements. Every ounce of sweat was bled dry from the cloth of the ensemble and towards the interval I felt tears run. They ran again, at least twice. The labelled main character Anna draws you in and tortures you in a way as bipolar as beauty and the beast could only be. It hurts. It makes you love. It kicks out. It embraces you. Such torture and cuh pleasure. I f**king hate this show. I love it equally. Ever imagined being someone desperate for independence? And I mean painfully desperate. The spot by wit’s end identified as critical and inconsolable. That bursting recklessly easger point of extreme anxiety? Anna will take you there. Not only that but the complexities of mother, friends and lovers – even the so-called experts of mental health will all be sliced apart and left to questions. There is a spectrum that is so diverse – so broad – it will leave you without words, and just raw emotions. It will not leave you cold. Julie Hesmondhalgh has leapt from Accrington to the electronic screens, but on stage she is hypnotizingly charismatic and soon has you forgetting the New Order t-shirt. Her young daughter on stage, Norah Lopez Holden, is eloquent, powerful and engaging. She radiates passion in every line and action. Her Hispanic looks, with a Mancunian twang fade away as each line jabs out like a boxer’s right hook. She is exactly the reason I never attempted drama at secondary school, because I could never do what she does. Living overseas, in a reasonably western-free area, means I may not see another theatre production, of that calibre, in a while but I am more than inspired to hunt them down on that showing. Thank you for such a distressing yet astonishing experience. It was part-ballet, part walking on broken glass. It was close to home. Very.

The train from Manchester Airport to Barrow-on-Furness was cancelled. Instead it would head off from Manchester Piccadilly. This being an annoyance, an alternative route with delays was found, via Carlisle, instead of via Barrow-on-Furness. After a long while of scenery out of the window, the fourth train of the day rolled into Parton, a village north of Whitehaven. Here I’d catch up with Dan, Vanessa, Alex and Damian.

Catching up Dan, Vanessa, Damian and Alex proved to be a great experience. Between walking the four-year old twins to school, talking, playing and polishing off some rum, exploration of the local area was also called for. The Lake District Coast Aquarium in Maryport offers crazy golf, engaging talks, a variety of British marine tanks, a working conservation lobster hatchery and staff that know their marine biology. The layout is good for a few hours sandwiched around a walk alongside the historic Marport marina, harbour and promenade. This was certainly a place for families to visit! The centre has a café and there are numerous pub grub options in a short walking distance. A walk around Ennerdale Water, far off from Bassenthwaite Lake (the only actual lake in the Lake District) and wanderings around Whitehaven town centre also allowed for relaxation – although climbing mountains in high heels isn’t normally fun.

Abbot’s Hall Hotel is a Christian Guild property. The décor is dated yet classic and relaxing. The furniture and fittings follow a similar mould. The grounds are pleasant and it hosts a wonderful indoor heated pool. The café and restaurant are ample with nearby restaurants in Grange-over-Sands. Kents Bank train station is outside the gate, less than two minutes stride away. Beyond the treelines and up a windy road Kents Tower can be reached, offering wonderful views of Morecambe Bay and the Lake District’s southern mountain range. One night here was not enough. However, it proved a pleasant contrast from a trip to London the next day.

That London was the next stop on the tour of England. A quicker than expected passage across the famous London Underground gave an arrival at Broughton. Crossing just three streets and walking a few hundred yards allowed for safe arrival at Zoly Apartment (23 Tabard Street), as found on Booking.com. London awaited. The simple apartment needed an electronic code for the front door and a different one for the room. The facilities were modern and included an electronic tablet notepad filled with lots of useful bits and bobs. A kitchen and a good bathroom made for probably my favourite place that I have stayed in London, ever, apart from Paul Thomas’ place after an ill-fated journey from Norwich to Manchester, via That London.

Dinner at Nando’s on the banks of the River Thames, gave wonderful archway views from Southwark looking northwards. Underneath Blackfriars Road bridge, tucking into spicy chicken wings, wedges and a host of sides made for a comforting dinner, two nights out of three spent in That London. The Clink Street location is close to the historic Golden Hinde, London Dungeons and many other attractions. The location really is something.

Royal Observatory Greenwich followed by dinner at Nando’s and a speedy passage to Piccadilly Circus to enjoy The Comedy About A Bank Robbery. Firstly, the Criterion Theatre is a gem, sank beneath the streets of the City of Westminster. On entering from Piccadilly Circus, you grab your tickets at a quaint ticket booth before tip-toeing downstairs beyond the top tiers of the theatre seating, and then into the lower circle. Beneath are the stalls and the stage. The horseshoe-shaped theatre seats a little shy of 500 spectators. It opened in March 1874 as a concert hall and soon was converted to a theatre. Long gone are the dangerous gaslights and in their place is a modern interior with occasional hints at the venue’s first usages. Names of composers line the walls on the staircasing. Henry J. Byron, W.S. Gilbert, and other such playwrights who commanded the use of an initial letter have perfomed at this charming venue. In World War II, it was even a BBC safe and recording studio! Secondly, the production of The Comedy About A Bank Robbery is an absolute delight. Packed full of wit, charm, comedy – and a rich dialogue with fine vocals and production of the highest calibre. The Mischief Theatre have won awards – and toured the world for good reason. They are.

The final day or so in Manchester involved shopping, a birthday lunch for Dad and packing a stupendous amount of luggage (mostly gifts).

WRITE HERE, WRITE NOW.

More than 250,000 blogged words later… [208 Wix Posts + 77 WordPress posts = 285 posts]

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

 

Under the fragrant bait you will find a hooked fish. Gǔlái fāng ěr xià, shéi néng bù tūn gōu?

Dance beneath the stars

oyster28catcher (JRA)1 Comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

A month or so ago, it was a case of one more sleep. One last head on the pillow and then it was up, up and away. Not like Superman, sadly. More a case of Turkish Airlines doing their remit. The delightful cultural exchange began in Changping, taking a taxi service to Hong Kong International Airport, then checking in before the mandatory waiting time of too long. At impatience o’clock, my flight began to taxy onto a slab of concrete far longer than my tolerance of a Star Trek DVD collection. Whatever the piloting term of putting your foot down is, thankfully the pilot knew of this. There was no room for winging it. Wings were needed for certain. I didn’t want Captain Miracle’s qualifications to have been the winner of Turkey’s Got Talent/Airplane Idol. I’d rather have taken a bus back to the U.K. All my bags were packed, and I was ready to go. I was leaving on a jetplane afterall. Carrying things in your pocket or giant cardboard boxes isn’t such a grand idea. Anyway, the flights back via Istanbul were most pleasant.

 

Anyway, here I am back in Dongguan, a whole 4 years after arriving here for the first time. And jet lag is making the whole return feel just as dizzy as day one of landing in Guangzhou. After departing a snow delay-hit Manchester International Airport, with several hours sat on a plane that wasn’t moving, the pilots lifted the Airbus A321 (32B) Transcon off the U.K.’s frozen terra firma. Around 4 hours later it touched down in Istanbul, before a sprint was needed to make the Hong Kong flight. I’m fairly certain that I left rubbery streaks from my shoes in Ataturk Airport. An uncomfortable 9 hours or so followed, not because of the airline or the seats, or the flight. Just me and my inability to sleep inflight. Alone in Berlin, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, Renegades and On Wings of Eagles [终极胜利] (about runner turned Christian Minister Eric Liddell – the “Flying Scotsman”).

 

Eric Liddell [埃里克·利德尔] was born in Tiānjīn天津市 but raced for Great Britain and Scotland – as well as playing rugby union on the international team. He died at Wéixiàn Internment Camp [潍县集中营]. The movie is a tad flat, however, the story is fascinating and the history portayed is riveting. It is certainly one to look out for, and now I must seek John W. Keddie’s book, Running the Race – Eric Liddell, Olympic Champion and Missionary. Sadly, the movie was my final piece of time spent on holiday as the wheels lowered from the Boeing 777-300ER jet. I’d enjoyed the 28th of January to the 28th of February on British soil.

It all started with the British Track Cycling Championships final round on my arrival day. I caught up with my sister Christina and her nephew, then watched City beat Cardiff City in the FA Cup from the comfort of a sofa. Sleep followed not long after.

 

To start February off, I met up with my best friend Dan, on a train bound for Glasgow. After smooth talking the staff at the £30 a night EasyHotel, we had ourselves two single beds and not the accidentally booked double bed. A few ales, some scran and a wander around Glasgow followed before we arrived at the Old Fruitmarket. Here the band, Levellers did an acoustic gig. The Levellers setlist featured old, new and new versions of old songs:

The Levellers are a band I like very much. They are not Coldplay. They are properly political. They are as Mark Thomas (Comedian) is to Lee Evans. The marmite of their industry. The next morning Dan had to pop back for work early. I took in a self-guided walking tour of Glasgow’s Cathedral, Necropolis and the city centre before heading back to Manchester.

Meeting Astrid, Mum, and Paul, we all tottled off to see an exhibition called Robots at the Museum of Science & Industry, Manchester. It was a fantastic display but quite limited in size. Seeing Maria from the 1927 movie Metropolis amongst other movie stars and scientific advancements. The Great Western Warehouse first floor space features animatronic babies and useful limbs for those who have lost them or never had them. There is a real insight into the possible and plausible future of society.

Having missed the 0933 train from Manchester to down south by 2 minutes, I had to re-purchase new tickets and board the 1033 down that way. The train operators having zero sympathy for a connecting tram service delay. I guess in future, I must allow extra time for such trivial problems.

After pizza, on meeting Asa and Steph, we wandered around Gloucester Cathedral taking in the filming locations of three Harry Potter films and a memorial to World War One and Severn river poet Ivor Gurney. Edward II and other royal kings are buried there, but Albert Mansbridge is more important I feel. He pioneered adult eduction in Britain. Amongst the carvings and glassworks is an image of a game likened to be football, dated 1350.

Woodchester Park surrounds an unfinished mansion house, dating from 1845. After pulling up in an icy car park, a walk down a trail to the incomplete manor followed. Passing great trees and sweeping fields the view opened-up to a magnificent gargoyle-topped two Victorian Gothic house. A gentle stroll and a cute puppy whilst admiring the bat boxes and conservation efforts surrounding the house, made for a good wander. Next up and kind of just down the road was Newark Park, managed by the National Trust. It holds Newark House. The 750-acre estate has stunning views of the nearby Mendips and Cotswolds. Here you can hold a piece of mammoth tusk, view the WWI exhibition and history of the house. A good coffee outside and beautiful gardens are more than capable of captivating your attention.

Clifton Suspension Bridge has always been somewhere I have dreamed of seeing up close and personal. It didn’t disappoint. Clifton Observatory, on Clifton Down once was a windmill for corn, then snuff. Now it hosts a great camera onscure, one of a handful open to the public around the U.K. I’ve already seen the Aberystwyth Camera Obscura. The staff there that day advised the light level was low and the camera obscura would be obscure, at best. Payment was advised just for the cave, so we saved a few pennies and slipped on down through very tight passages to a concealed cave looking out onto the Avon Gorge, with the Clifton Suspension Bridge. Later crossing the bridge was pleasing and touring the small, yet well-thought out museum added to the joys of seeing somewhere new and all the history that surrounds it. The link to Egypt and the delayed and redesigned projects, before it opened in 1864 and a lengthy history featuring the last flight of BAE Systems’ Concorde. Nando’s the first of four U.K. visits followed. The spice is right?

SUSPENSA VIX VIA FIT

(The road becomes barely suspended)

On the 14th of February, from Cam and Dursley train station, the train hurtled north and east a little, towards Nottingham. Outside driving sleety showers filled the grey skies. Happy Valentine’s Day indeed. On arrival Aunty Carolyn and Phil were waiting. Next was a relaxed evening with enough Cottage Pie to sink a ship and a catch up. Also, seeing my cousin Gary wasn’t a bad surprise. The following day involved a short bus trip to Wollaton Hall (it doubled as Wayne Manor in the The Dark Knight Rises). Gotham village is around five miles south of the park and hall. Soon after touring the wintery deer park and café, a jaunt to Nottingham Castle (some of which has stood since 1067AD, under William the Conqueror) and Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem claiming to have opened in 1189AD. City of Caves added to the itenary but was quite disappointing. The sandstone conurbation of cellars features an Anderson shelter, a few tales and the odd pub cellar. The medieval tannery amongst the pillar cave and Drury Hill slums and a few brief points and Luddite connections, with the questionable origin of the phrase, ‘the penny dropped’. The outbound journey from Nottingham to Manchester on the 16th, involved no changes, only a flowing land of hills, greenery and eventually the arrival of the city of Manchester on the edge of the Cheshire Plain.

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye

J7: 2007-2011 Diary notes.

oyster28catcher (JRA)

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do,

I joined Facebook on the 15th of December 2006. That was much later than everyone else. I had enjoyed a reasonably sheltered life in Aberystwyth before that. There was little real need for the internet. I’d never had a MySpace, Twitter or such account prior to this. I’d established www.atfc.org.uk in 2004. That was my internet exposure. It kept me busy!

In the year of 2007 things became somewhat more confusing.  I decided to sacrifice life in Manchester to follow Nikki to university in Plymouth. I dropped off the Army Intelligence recruitment list (be it very late on) in favour of maintaining our relationship. I had no qualms with that decision, I would make it again in the flash of a synapse. However, I moved from a place with good friends and a relaxed homely feel to a place unfamiliar. My Granddad George Acton had arrived in Plymouth during the 1940s before setting sail for a global conflict. My conflict was closer to home. My nomadic life had seen me return to Manchester in 2006 for a brief stint at home. Work was proving hell to find. I had left Aberystwyth for similar reasons. Opportunity wasn’t knocking on my door and I was turning over every stone to find it! E-mails and text messaging made me feel close to friends but sadly these texts trimmed down.

 

A January saunter to Berlin helped things nicely. Oh yes, back to Berlin in January.  I arrived at Berlin Tegel on the 3rd of January 2007 (the day after Nikki had arrived at Schönenfeld Airport).  I clambered off the lime green DBA aircraft (despite flying with Air Berlin) and within minutes of arriving at the baggage carousel my ruck-sack was to hand.  I walked out of the arrivals doorway and to my surprise little Miss Brown was waiting for me.  After exchanging Great British Pounds for the Euro, Nikki introduced me to the public transport ticket machine.  The machine-printed ticket was very good value for money (even if the money resembled Monopoly currency).  So off we go onto a bus into the centre of Berlin to S-Bahn und U-Bahn Zoological Gardens.  We get an over-ground train and arrive at Waschauer Straße.  A short walk later and we were in the Sunflower Hostel.

 

On the 7th Nikki flew away from Schönenfeld airport and as she took off my eyes filled with tears.  This wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have been here alone.  I wanted to be with someone.  I couldn’t.  A city full of millions surrounded me, but I was alone.  I trundled, dawdled, plodded, feet dragging towards the S-Bahn station for my journey back into a more central Berlin.  My head torn about by thoughts of loneliness, when would I be back, and why I had booked those extra days.  The strength of mind I usually had, had deserted me, left me feeling vulnerable.  I opened the train door and stepped on board, taking a seat.  An irate German couple shouted something abusive about not closing the door on my way in.  It was icy cold.  I did not notice.  I could not see a button to close the door.  I ignored them.  My peril was worse than theirs.  My heart was lacking companionship.  It needed to feel camaraderie to gain warmth.  I sat in a seat far from any other.  The slow trickles of tears seeped down my cheeks.  I held my head down and dreamed of being somewhere else.  I could imagine Nikki sat on her flight home, listening to music, smiling, and comfortable. Here I was though, cold and lonely and far from home. Still, worse things had happened in this city.  Eventually, I relaxed as the journey took my North back towards the East of Berlin.

 

That next day, I visited Sachsenhausen.  It was a place that made me feel no hunger for food that night. Alone with my reflective thoughts I plodded the streets of Berlin and walked through the monumental Treptower Park (visiting a Russian Memorial). How could a human do those things to other humans? It was truly eye-opening and scarily funereal. The next day, I lightened the mood. I spent time sitting alone in a big park with red squirrels etc, following a visit to the Topography of Terror museum. Talk about bleak. As morbid and disturbing as the days had been, I believe to appreciate how lucky you are, and the losses of yesteryear, or for lessons to be learnt, all should learn about atrocities. We can’t go on this way.

 

My cold mood returned to Manchester in a mood of winter. I had spent the night sleeping in an airport because my budget was short by one day and I didn’t ask for help. My employers in Aberystwyth had failed to pay me – and they had conned me previously. Still, the paperback at the time made a whole night pass quickly. In that night, I had decided life in Aberystwyth must come to an end. Life in Manchester was not for me. I needed something new. Nikki was in Plymouth, and had been there since September. It made sense.

 

So, Plymouth it was. Being a Northern Man don’t mind the South that much. It was pricier, the water is shit but it ain’t all that bad. After all you could get Warburton’s bread in some of the supermarkets and there was the odd branch of Morrison’s down here.  The Northern invasion had begun. Beware! Life would never be the same again.  The monster was loose, and he was just starting to settle in. Making good friends in John Petrie, Andy, and Paul helped. They were originally Nikki’s friends but a few ales in James Street Vaults swayed them my way. Not that I was looking to usurp her friend group, even if Nikki would tell me so! Working with another Paul, Darren and Steve at Royal Mail in Plympton. Meeting friendly colleagues and playing football for Royal Mail F.C. helped. That and walks into Plymptom and the surrounding parks. Here was a good place to cycle but not a place I wanted to call home.

 

2008 – oddly, in this year, I kept a diary. On Friday the 12th of January 2008, I left Plymouth at 1435. I arrived at 0235 on Saturday. Long journeys between Manchester and Plymouth were the norm. It was only on the 17th of January, that I discovered blue cheese, and slapped a load of it with garlic on a homemade pizza. It was delicious. On the 11th of February, at Old Trafford, City ended a cursed run of defeats and draws stretching over several decades. “There’s only one Benjani, only one Benjani, he got lost on the way, so we don’t have to pay, walking in a Benji wonderland.” He only signed for City a little earlier that year. On March the 7th Astrid, (who had been struggling from late-2007 with mental health problems) ran away. She fled to London from the family home in Manchester. It was only the beginning of Astrid’s problems. One day, I will dig in, and try to write how much mental health problems affect us all. One day. By the 12th of March, my shooting boots found the net twice in a 4-2 win for Royal Mail F.C. since I had moved from striker to defender. On April the 9th, I caught a mouse whilst I was washing the dishes. I packed it in a Tupperware box and released it far away from the house christened the House of Wang, named after its strange-looking cacti. On the 19th of April I headed to The North once again enjoying a wander on Middleton Sands with Dad, Shaun and Christina. Two days later, and Astrid and I walked Bailey the dog on Highfield Country Park, Levenshulme. On June the 27th I watched Meat Loaf rock at Home Park, Plymouth with Mark from Royal Mail. The soggy weather didn’t dampen the Casa de Carne tour night. I would also see the same gig on the 23rd of July in Hamburg’s beautiful Stadtpark. The trip to Hamburg also featured City’s game at HSV, as well as a tour of the city taking in Miniatureworld, a submarine, museums, funfairs and great fish and chips. What a great city!

 

Whilst I’d been in Plymouth Nikki had left for around 6 months, to South Africa. Once again, I was left waiting. On the 5th of July she had returned. The day after, we caught a ferry and ate at The Bridge by Mount Batten, Plymouth. Two days later we visited Bedruthland Steps and Holywell Bay – enjoying great jam scones at the former, and crazy golf at the latter. Back to the North, I headed for my first ever running challenge, the Urbanathlon, a 10K assault course sponsored by Original Source shower gel. I completed it in a sluggish 1 hour and 7 minutes. I was never cut out or interested in such running challenges. By August Nikki and I had moved in together, in a house, in Heaton Chapel. On August the 2nd, I watched City at Stockport County and four days later I had completed my TEFL in Plymouth, before heading back to Manchester on the 19th to watch City versus Portsmouth. On the 29th of September I went to Wigan Athletic versus Manchester City with Sean and Tom, neighbours of my Mum. On October the 7th, someone stole my bicycle. I was in tears and shreds because bicycles have always been part of my life. On the 18th of October, I watched Jason Manford, a comedian before two days later three bands (Cure the Disaster, These Eyes Are Cameras and Wheatus) at Manchester’s Roadhouse. On the 1st day of November I walked around Lyme Park, eventually reaching the Lantern, witnessing many deer in the vast wilderness. On the 16th of November, I watched Irish comedian Ed Byrne at The Lowry in Salford. The weekend of the 22nd saw City face Arsenal and then the next day a comedy night with Paddy McGuinness. On Saturday December the 6th, I headed to London’s Craven Cottage to watch City at Fulham. My love for 6am bus journeys not present, as always. The following weekend involved winter bulb planting at Highfield Country Park and watching City, as always. Somehow, I managed to get to work on the 19th December 2008, having departed a bar the previous evening, and arriving back very, very late. I was full of blisters and had dehydration.

 

That New Year’s Eve, Paul, Eastham, John Petie and Abbie Matthews visited Manchester, having headed from Plymouth to The North. We all enjoyed New Year’s Eve together. By the 7th day of 2009, I had to wade to work in snow. On the 10th of January I watched Daniel Draig and Liev Schreiber in Defiance in the cinema. That was a good reward for a day’s winter hike around Lyme Park. On the 17th January, The Wrestler, at the cinema followed City’s 1-0 win over Wigan Athletic.

Following a great Christmas party at RAC Inspection Services, I went to watch Seasick Steve with my colleague Claire on January 23rd. Dessert was a lovely jammy Swiss Roll. The next day featured Valkyrie at the cinema. On the 27th, I watched City Reserves beat Newcastle Utd 3-0, before watching City beat Newcastle Utd 2-1 the next day. A walk and a daydream of a ride on the metal playground train in Phillips Park followed. The final day of the month saw a trip to watch City lose at Stke 1-0. A spell at the cinema watching Slumdog Millionnaire helped cure the pain of defeat. On the weekend of the 6th to 8th of February, I headed to Aberystwyth – and the game in Caersws was called off, due to snow, so a weekend staying at The Glengower and wanderings was had.

Like Claire, and my colleagues we all were told that we would have to relocate offices or take redundancy on Friday the 13th of February. Nightmare. I had only officially been working for RAC Inspection Services for a few months, following a temping job with them. I spent the following Sunday walking around Reddish Vale, worried that I would have no job and doubting the future. On the 17th of that month there was a question and answer session, the 20th a visit to Aviva’s Albert Square office, and on the 27th I had an interview with Jeremy Rouch for a job at Aviva. The last day of February saw Al Murray, Pub Landlord and comedian visit the Manchester Apollo. I watched his show and enjoyed it very much. On the 10th of March, Dave Armitage and Chris from Aviva further interviewed me. I moved offices on March the 23rd. On the 22nd of March, I watch comedian Andy Pasrons at The Lowry. Comedy like music and football was my escape.

On March the 7th, I stood watching lapwings on derlict carparks by the City of Manchester Stadium, before City Youth beat Norwich City 1-0. I was soon transferred to work for Norwich Union (Aviva) at Albert Square. In this month, on the 10th, high school mate Leigh Kenyon and I went to a players’ evening meeting then-City manager Mark Hughes, Pablo Zabaleta and Vincent Kompany.

Other notes from my spacious and almost bare diary.

April 2009

13/4/09 – Easter event, Highfield Country Park

16/4/09 – City 2-1 Hamburg

23/4/09 – Mark Radcliffe book signing

10/4/09: is watching City v Fulham on Sunday, then has an Easter event at Highfield on Monday before the big one: City v Hamburg on Thursday. We will play much better. We can do it.

16/4/09: City v Hamburg

Greenfields to Standedge tunnel to Manchester along the Huddersfield Canal & Ashton Canal, 18/4/09.

25/4/09: Everton v City

30/4/09:  £369 for my 2009/10 seasoncard!

May 2009

Walked with Dad, Christina and Shaun around Hest Bank, 10/5/09

16/5/09: Spurs v City

June 2009

7/6/09:  Heaton Park.  Free Peace, Twisted Wheel, Kasabian, The Enemy and Oasis. I went to the urinals and a girl whipped her knickers down to have a pee next to me. Classy girl.

12/6/09:  The Doves tomorrow, then running the Pants in The Park 5K (28mins) run tomorrow on Sunday followed by Bill Bailey at The Lowry.

July 2009

5/7/09:  CITY OF MANCHESTER 10K (1hr9mins)

13/7/09: is off to Hyde U****d v City Res on Wednesday, training Thursday evening, at Live For City gig featuring Doves/Kid British/Twisted Wheel on Friday then off to Aberystwyth v Leev-urrrr-poooohl on Saturday.

23/7/09: cannot run the Moonraker 10K this Sunday, cannot train for a week more and is generally pissed off with this fecking reaction to one fecking bite!!!!

24/7/09: is recruiting a shovel/spade to did a hole and bury himself. This fecking bite has detroyed my fitness, moral, and left leg. New leg needed.

July 2009: Live from City.

August 2009

Morecambe, sunset. Saturday, 15/08/09. The night before I ran the Cross Bay Challenge half marathon. (2hr 31mins and 54 secs.)

30/8/09: went off to Portsmouth (v City) at 5am-ish. Bit far to travel for a pie, pint and some sea air…

September 2009

4-6/9/09: Bingley Live Festival/Ponden Guest House camp site [4/9/09:  the Undertones; 5/9/09: Doves; 6/9/09: Calvin Harris, Rev And The Makers, Futureheads, VV Brown, The Editors]

Stopgap Dance Company 19/09/09, Stopgap in Piccalilli gardens

24/9/09: has just opened his wardrobe door, grabbed a shirt and realised the wardrobe is purring. That pesky cat!

October 2009

7/10/09: first trip to Clacton-on-sea

19/10/09: has 2 days of work, then a muddle of running, music, cycling, British Track cycling championships and football. Perfect.

25/10/09: is off t’ footy t’ see t’ City v t’ Fulham, c’mon t’ Blues!

28/10/09: lonely birthday meal in Asda, City 5-1 Scunny in League Cup

30/10/09: wonders how Horseflies track him down. 3, That’s three bites this year! At cycling World cup which is awesome’

November 2009

1/11/09: HELLRUNNER. Delamere Forest. OFFICIAL FINISH TIME OF 3HRS, 5MINS AND 12 SECONDS!!!! RESULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WAS 1428TH OVERALL OF 1521. – a stress fractured foot, a bruised knee, torn calf muscles, blisters but it was worth the ride

6/11/09: Paracycling, Manchester Velodrome.

December 2009

11/12/09-12/12/09:  work do/haggered bar tour with Anthony and his brother Steve. Great night!

12/12/09: Bolton v City

18/12/09: Tapas (Deansgate), Doves, Manchester Central.

What happened in 2010?

Sunday, 5/9/10: Rider number 45. Manchester 100 cycle ride, left 0730hrs, halfway check in 1230hrs.  Departed 1310hours, arrived 1530hrs finish line. Route: Wythenshawe Park, Knutsford, Northwich, Norley, Tattenhall, Nantwich, Middlewich, Wilmslow, Styal, Wythenshawe Park

January 2011

1/1/11 – City 1-0 Blackpool, went with Dan / Cinema: Gulliver’s Travels

2/1/11 – Day in DVDs

5/1/11 – City v Arsenal

7/1/11-9/1/11 – A trip to Plymouth

15/1/11- Revo Cycling after City v Wolves

February – April 2011

23/2/11-27/2/11 – Nikki up North

24/2/11 – City v Aris, with Dad and Uncle George

15/3/11-18/3/11- Nikki up North

16/3/11 – Manchester Cathedral, Cherry Ghost

9/4/11-10/4/11 – Colchester

14/4/11-18/4/11 – Colchester

23/4/11 – Newtown v Aber

28/4/11 – Court date regarding rent at place in Manchester

May-June 2011

5/5/11 – Reserves v Chelsea

14/5/11 – FAC Final: City v Stoke City

21/5/11 – Blue Square Final, CoMStad

22/5/11 – Bolton v City

4/6/11 – Avenue Q

July-August 2011

1/7/11 – Leaving do, Manchester

2/7/12 – Left for Norwich, departed 0742, arrived 1233, moved in same day

4/7/11 – Willow House, Norwich city centre – interview

7/7/11-16/7/11 – Cornwall

29/7/11 – 1/8/11 – Dublin

5/8/11-7/8/11 – London, Community Shield

15/8/11 – City v Swansea

16/8/11 – NCFC v Blackburn Reserves

27/8/11 – Spurs v City

31/8/11 – MEN, Arcade Fire

September-December 2011

16/9/11 – Holiday

5/11/11 – QPR v City

6/11/11 – Mark Watson, Colchester Arts Centre

8/11/11 – Andy Parsons, UEA Playhouse

8/12/11 – Shapi Khorsandi, UEA Playhouse

11/12/11 – Ross Noble, Colchester Arts Centre

16/12/11-19/12/11 – Dusseldorf

J6: 2005 – Granddad Ernie

oyster28catcher (JRA)

On the 10th of April 2005, following a lengthy period in Fairclough Hospital, in Bury, Ernie died.  A few weeks before his death he had married my Granny.  The wedding was held within the hospital owing to his ill health.  The hospital provided a ring and the cake.  Mum found out on the phone later that night.  I had visited Ernie only a week before his death.  He looked very ill, very underweight and was incoherent.  He still knew who I was and gave welcome to me by his bedside.  Granny and I walked him to the toilet, but this seemed to strain him of any strengths he had left.  Granny and Ernie had looked after me when my sister was taken to hospital after she was knocked down.  On the day we went to the local station and watched as the trains passed by.  That night I stayed my Granny’s house.  There were many of the times during the difficult week that followed that merited a waterfall of tears.

 

 

On a Tuesday, some days later, myself, Paul, Paul junior, and Astrid set off to Granny’s house.  Granny had lived in north Manchester, in Moston for over 16 years.  In 1989 Granny had met Ernie.  They became very close friends and eventually moved in together.  Ernie would always look after my Granny.  Granny and Ernie would always visit us in south Manchester.  We would sometimes visit markets together.  Ernie would look out for many collectable goods, e.g. steam memorabilia.  We would sometimes visit museums and places where we could see working steam engines and many other engineering pieces.  Ernie was a steam enthusiast.  One Christmas when I was young and still at primary school Ernie and Granny treated me to a working steam engine model.  I was very proud to be given such a gift.  The gift had clearly cost my Granny and Ernie a large amount of money, but it would always be of sentimental value. I plan to power it up this February.

We arrived at Granny’s house for noon.  Paul junior and Astrid went to the shop to buy some fizzy drinks.  Myself and Paul had a cup of tea with Granny.  Aunty Carolyn and her husband Phil arrived with my cousin Kelly soon after, as well as my Great Uncle Eric and Great Aunty Mary.   A few friends of the family also attended.  Many well wishers passed by and offered my Granny their deepest sympathies.

The procession set out and arrived later on at the cemetery.  A procession passed through Blakeley and most of Moston.  We passed some kids and in my mind, I had judged them to be no good kids but one of them removed his cap to reveal that he was paying huge respect to the passing procession.  This was a touching moment.  We arrived at the cemetery close to half two in the afternoon.  The coffin was carried into a large room, within this large room stood the priest of the front.  The priest recited some sermons and read aloud some psalms.  He then paid tribute to Ernie Freeman.  The final piece of music before we left the room was that of a steam engine puffing up and sounding its horn.  Outside the priest thanked us and offered us his blessing.  Flowers were lay on the ground outside as a tribute to the man we were paying respect to that day.

I sat in the funeral car, and the door blew in the breeze.  The door creaked.  Ernie would have oiled the car door, or taken it apart just to fix the problem.  This thought made me cry.  I will always miss him and will always wish that I’d got to know him better.  He was a very interesting man who I admired greatly.  He was honest, caring and considerate.  He was witty and a true gentleman.  Even though he was not my real biological grandfather I will always call him my granddad.

Our procession then went to a public house in Fallowfield, of the name of The Willow.  Here we ate sandwiches and had a few drinks in the final way of paying tribute to Ernie.

My Granddad George was admitted to hospital once again in March 2005, and the next month did not look so bright for family matters. Dad’s friend Bert died on the day his wife was buried in early April 2005. It seemed to be a cursed year. It made me feel helpless.

My Granddad, George Acton passed away. I won’t write about this now. I want to write far more about each grandparent soon.

 

再见/ Zài jiàn / Bài bài / Ta’ra / Goodbye