2019 – 1 day

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

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

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!

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

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™

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

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

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?

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.

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.

 

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!”

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

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.

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

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…

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

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

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.

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

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

J5: University Challenged

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

The Marine Biology field course arrived, and with my tooth being so painful I really struggled with the work.  I submitted an incomplete report, managed to attend all the trips, but really struggled to motivate myself for the work.  It was not all doom and gloom, as I met Nicola Brown, well kind of.  I was feeling something completely different.  Her vibrant smile met my eye. I barely spoke to her but could not stop thinking about her throughout the field-course.  I felt I had to get talking to her somehow, someway, someewhere but chance never came my way, my injured tooth ruling out possibilities, and my lack of confidence to talk with her.  I did find her name via a friend, Rob Palmer, who was also in her Marine Biology field course group.  Nikki, Lisa Bates, and Rob soon hung around together very often.

 

My own football would go well for me, post tooth-extraction.  Having only managed three university Dig’s league games, a 4-2 win where I hit the woodwork twice! A 2-1 win, here I bagged my first university strike in ages!  And, a 2-1 win where I had to come off as my head was killing me!  On the 18th of November me and Rob, went to see Scouse comedian, Jeff Green (From A-Z) live at the Art’s Centre.  As comedians go he was the bee’s knees!  Rob later gave me the live at the West End DVD for Christmas, equally wonderful!.  On Saturday the 20th of November, I was working behind the bar, my first full night of being in charge.  The place only bloody had a fire (in the lounge bar, not the function room we were working in).  Anyway, Jonathan (Buzza), me and the two bouncers evacuated the Club house even though we extinguished the first fire.  Sadly, the fire must have reignited whilst we had been clearing the building.  Before long the lounge bar was devastated!  A sad day for the football club, and its interior decorated in historical memorabilia. I remember the sad eyes of Rhun Owens, then-long serving and devoted club secretary when he arrived to the smouldering remains.

 

On the 27th of November my-then brief ex-girlfriend Lisa Bates held a video night at her house in Borth.  She had provided enough of a buffet spread to serve a Glastonbury crowd twice-over, alongside enough spirits and wine to provide Borth with a new pub.  There was at one tsage twelve people watching movies in her lounge.  By sleeping time, Claire and Paul had gone to use Lisa’s bed, Lisa had gone to her spare room, Nikki, Rob, Rich and I were camped in the lounge.  I fell asleep the soonest; shattered by incessant tooth pain.

 

The funfair used to arrive in Aberystwyth on the last two Mondays of November, and the first Monday of December.  Never-the-less, Nikki, Rob, Lisa, Louise, Laura and Wyn joined me for the final two Mondays.  The Crazy Mouse rollercoaster (it claimed to be the largest mobile rollercoaster in Europe) and the extremely high G-Force were brilliant but I enjoyed going on other smaller rides, usually with Nikki, who was the most daring of the group! Our group being who they are we went on some fairground stalls and won some raffles.  I won three Caterpillars (of which I asked Nikki to mind one) and Rob, Lisa, Louise, and Nikki all won cuddly toys ranging from unicorns to monkeys. I never had luck with these stalls, usually.

 

The 7th of December arrived.  The day the tooth was to be removed.  I was so nervous I couldn’t eat breakfast.  At 12pm, the dental surgeon/devil was deep into the process of making me feel as uncomfortable as possible.  I have to say, that day was one of the scariest days of my life.  Did it hurt?  IT BLOODY WELL DID!  Half hour of X-rays, 15 minutes of assessment, 10 minutes of numbing my jaw off, and the final quick extraction, followed by a click as a crack in the jaw slammed shut, alongside me fainting on the way downstairs, did not make for an entertaining day.  The headache I had upon to then, for at least 4 months vanished immediately, and I will admit I was a tad dazed, confused, and physically tired.  Mentally I was shattered, but that didn’t take much.  That day I was driven back to Aber, via Bangor City versus Aberystwyth Town’s games (shhhh!), after all I just wanted my own bed, and to get back to normal.  On arrival back into Aber, I went round to Nikki’s and chilled with her and Rob.  I didn’t want to be alone.  I wanted to see Nikki, and get a good hug!  The next day I missed the 1-2pm lecture, favouring sleep.  I was going to for a gentle stroll in the evening, but decided on going to training with Penparcau FC.  You know how it is.  That was the best three-hour evening session I’ve ever done.  In reality, I was back, back and ready to go.  After that session, Nikki came around and gave me the best hug I had ever had, lasting a good few hours.  For some unknown reason we watched Santa Clause 2, The Aristocats, and GCSE Bytesize until 4am.  I let Nikki use Nige’s room (whilst he was away) for some sleep, as I collapsed in bed.  On Thursday night, Nikki came around again, which was wonderful, as she is great company and really friendly lass.  Yet again we watched DVDs into the early hours, but this time the hug was more warmly, and the urge to kiss her became overpowering.  However, all the signs were there for a kiss, but I didn’t want to risk our friendship.  I mean I’d fancied her since I set eyes on her in September’s Marine Biology field course.  Hands were close, arms wrapped around each other, heads leaning by each other, cheeks rubbing, and eventually the courage came to share a kiss.

On Saturday, I played for Penparcau out in Llanrhystud, scoring a crucial extra-time goal, we won 5-2.  That evening Nikki invited me to her friend Krissey’s roast dinner.  We went all the way to Trawsgoed.  The journey was a pleasant drive through the backs and beyond of Welsh countryside.  An excellent meal cooked by Krissey and her boyfriend later, a long chat with Nikki’s mates Harvey and Deanna before setting off back to Aber under the cloudless black sky. On the Sunday I missed playing football for the UWA Greens in the Dig’s League.  I took Nikki for Sunday lunch at Harley’s.  Things felt amazing.  I mean I’ve had strong feelings before for particular ladies, but at that time it was off the Richter scale.  On Tuesday night, Nikki made me stir-fry at mine.  It certainly beat the pasta I made for her on Wednesday night!  Ah, Wednesday night, a night of torture in training.  A 20-minute beach shuttle-run session, and long jog just to punish players for not turning up to training, proved to tire me out.  I could feel the aches and strains long into the evening!  I always give my excuses in well before not turning up!  But still teams get punished not individuals, but it does make you feel a damn bit fitter!

On Friday we went out for Nikki’s birthday, dressed as angels and devils.  Naturally I’m an angel, so I fancied a change and was as a devil (even though I hate red!).  We started at Nikki’s flat drinking Taboo etc.  In the Academy we met Gav Allen and a few other footy lads.  Not many drinks later we arrived at a heaving Varsity, where I lost my white-chocolate-vodka-virginity.  Interesting drink, looks like Rhino semen, tastes like rubber-chocolate.  In the Cambrian we had a few cocktails, as Laura and Debbie chatted up the bar stewards.  One taxi journey uphill later, and into the Union we went.  Good old Move night, and a great night.  Eventually 12am came And Nikki turned 22.  An amazing night and the Union managed an extra half hour of Christmas songs post-bar-closing.  On Nikki’s birthday we went for a cooked-breakfast, and then we strolled up the seafront and generally enjoyed the day.  I cooked a pizza (cheating with pre-made bases this time!) and we watched a film, and then Match of the Day. A leopard can’t change spots for stripes.  On Sunday, we separated for awhile.  Nikki had to tidy her house, and I had to tidy mine.  On Monday morning Nikki went home (Cornwall!) and so did I – for Christmas!   Over the Christmas holidays, I was mostly working on my University project work, and ringing the land of pasties to see how Nikki was. The easy thing about being with Nikki was we both allowed time to get to know each other and never rushed into anything.  The hugs and kisses we shared made me tingle and feel wanted; something I cannot claim to have felt before sharing these special moments with Nikki.

I haven’t really described Nikki, but even if I did, so I might as well try to remember her bac k then.  Nikki was kind, caring, interesting, articulate, cheeky as a monkey, lovely, warm, gentle, and everything a dream about a great partner would contain.  Nikki spent a year away from University working in New Zealand and seemed an expert on there!  Nikki and I got on so well because our interests were alike, she loves comedy as much as I do (but she quoted Little Britain more than I cared for!).  She was sporty (plays netball, watches rugby etc), and I’m football crazy, football mad!  There were lots of things for us to do, see and learn, and at the time I believed Nikki would be the one! At one time I was a city boy, lost in its vastness and devoid of any feelings for someone, but in the town of Aberystwyth I fell for Nikki.  That secluded spot revealed that I was no longer concealed behind a window, peering out at the views below and across. For then, I was free from that prison, free to dream once more, free to feel hope and push aside fear.  I didn’t feel like the luckiest guy in Aberystwyth, more like the luckiest person on Earth, or maybe the Universe, because somebody believed in me and cared for me, in ways that I hadn’t experienced.

Regular phone talk of when we would see each other again, and desires for the day to arrive carried us through the Christmas period.  We had arranged to spend the New Year in Aber.  The last hours of 2004, and the first few of 2005 were to be spent in the Glengower.  New Year’s celebrations at The Glengower’s Western Night were quieter than we all anticipated, however with me and Nikki, Rob and Lisa, Laura and Wyn, and Susan it was a fun night.  I was content with spending those moments in Aber. Back home, my one-time secondary school friend Emma looked at a picture of Nikki.  Em accused Nikki of being just a pretty face, which wasn’t fair as Nikki had a great arse and lovely legs too!  Nikki departed Aber on the Bank Holiday Monday of the 3rd; the day Penrhyncoch Reserves beat Penparcau 2-1 (They did field four Cymru Alliance players and a Welsh Premier player! It was a hellish hard game.).  Nikki had to finish her family holiday away. At least at home in Cornwall, she could concentrate on revision without having Mr Procrastinator 2001-4 distracting her. My personal revision was chugging along slowly.  One exam was so mentally hard, because I had tunnel-vision and desired to read up on other subjects too. I’d even spent hours writing a season of ideas for Aberystwyth Town’s football programme. I was not cut out for studying… or focused…

TO BE CONTINUED

W.M.D. problems

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

Oh. My. God. I write it this way, to exaggerate a point and a half. There is a huge problem in the world and we need to address it now. Get it out in the open. No more hiding in the shadows. The time is now. Right here, right now. No more. We can’t go on this way. Renunciation, disavowal, denial and abjuration may well all be good enough for President Trump but not for me. No, no, no. And not for us. Not for the greater good. There is a menace to society and it threatens our ways of life. So. Let us talk. Now. About, well, I best add a disclaimer because I know some of my readers have complained about my graphic levels of details. DON’T READ ON if you are eaily disturbed. Back the flip up, whilst we shatter the realms of acceptance for good. Your world will change after this. Are you ready? I don’t believe you are. Nobody is. Nobody ever has been. I imagine this matter inspired Depeche Mode’s Where’s the Revolution? Religions have fell for less. Question everything. Okay, let’s stop beating around the bush. Like Catholicism, it is time to discuss rubber… erasers, to be precise.

 

Nobody can deny the Hollocaust. It was a monstrosity of modern times. The horror cannot be joked about. So many people lost their lives. Anne Frank was one such example, aged, just 15. 15 years on this Earth is too little time. Thankfully her words were never erased for all to learn about. Her life lives on in the form of an educational legacy. Thankfully she never took an eraser to her writing and we are left with a glimpse into dark times and a beautiful young mind. Other key moments in humanity faced threats. The Mona Lisa has been x-rayed, studied to death, infra-red inspected and UV examined. Beneath the serene lips of La Gioconda is a previous work, evidence of Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci’s inability to control himself with an eraser. Martin Luther King Jr may not have had a dream had he whipped out an ice cream-shaped eraser from the nearest Toys ‘r’ Us branch. Sir Winston Churchill loved writing. His scribbles, books and doodles were everywhere from his bunker and he led Britain against invasion and eradication before pushing on to defeat an enemy of freedom. As partitioning a figure as he may be, Churchill’s writing evaded the eraser and is mostly a fascinating look into an often complex and contadictive mind.

In class 1F there isn’t a more dangerous thing than the eraser. It is to my class as the nuclear warhead is to North Korea, Japan and America. This material and its rubbery consistency represent almost every argument and disagreement within the four walls of the classroom.

In bygone days, wax, bread crusts, sandstone, pumice and other coarse-pieces would wipe away mistakes from parchment to ancient almost-Powerpoint-like wall displays in cave dwellings. By 1770 and Mathematical Instrument-Maker Mr Nairne’s invention of the rubber, more people, with better education, meant more mistakes. The rubber had arrived. But it would take 69 years of perishable rubber problems before Charles Goodyear would fix it with curing, in vulcanisation. Not long after pencils had them attachecd to the end. The weapon was unleashed.

Some of these vinyl plastics, synthetic and soy-based gum devices come in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours. They started out erasing pencil-based mistakes before eradicating the odd inky blotch. Now these act as devices of conflict. Electric erasers, like an electric toothbrush, bringing to minds, a torture device more at home in a James Bond movie. In class 1F, these tools are used for gouging out eyeballs and enforcing turf boundaries. Until the batteries run out.

Erasers, whether missing, being projectile-launched from rulers, eaten, or lost are a huge problem to global security. I vote that all free nations launch their airborne outfits and bomb the shit out of those who hold erasers. Don’t take any chances.

#NUKEeraserESTABLISHMENTSnow

 

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

Mulan, Yuè Fēi, Dragon Boats, Qi Xi & Qing Ming Jie

RECOVERED FROM THE DEMISE OF HUBHAO.COM

Badasses of Chinese History:  Huā Mùlán

 

One of my favourite legends surrounds Ahmad ibn Fadlan’s and his journey north from Baghdad with and observations of Vikings.  Ever since reading the novelisation Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton, I have been fascinated by folklores, myths and fables.  In legends we can relate to their accounts, discover our own histories and create a personality we can never possibly know.  In Michael Crichton’s afterword he gave the view that history and legend can be interesting “if presented in the correct way.”  The story he wrote surrounded the legend of Beowulf – in response to a close personal friend lecturing on the “Bores of Literature.”

I’ve never seen Disney’s Mulan, nor have I seen several of the other film adaptations studios have spewed out since the early 1920’s.  The works just do not interest me.  Fascination in China surrounding the story of Huā Mùlán (sometimes referred to as Fa Mulan – Huā means flower) continued with a modern play starring Méi Lánfāng – a man playing the heroine.  Prior to that legends and stories told of this unlikely lass’s rise to the fore.  Disney’s animated effort was the first ever Disney DVD release – and the first cartoon by the same production company to tackle warfare openly.  For many people outside of China it may have also been the first chance to see a little of China’s vast culture and history.  Without it, we’d probably not have heard of Christina Aguilera too (she sang on the soundtrack).

 

The original legend was transliterated in “The Ballad of Mulan” more than a thousand years ago by an author who was never named amongst an anthology that has subsequently stayed mislaid to history.  The oldest copy of the narrative, comprised of just 31 couplets, portrays Mulan’s triumphant military career throughout which she masked her gender from her fellow combatants.  Ultimately she led a war-winning battle and is given reverence by the Emperor.  The Emperor furnishes a cash reward and a senior post in the army.  After twelve years of service and a bucketful of praise, she sought retirement.  Instead of rewards, she opted to live out her days in her hometown.  Home is where the heart is.  Even on returning to her hometown, her companions from the armed forces did not know she was a she, they still thought she was in fact a he.  Twelve years of poor observations on their part.

The famous poem, limited to around 31 couplets, received stage treatment in the 12th century, lay dormant for five centuries before returning to the frontage.  Another stage adaptation and the novel Sui Tang Yanyi pushed Huā Mùlán back into discussion.  Historical bases debated Mùlán’s family name.

Sui Tang Yanyi, Guō Màoqiàn and Chu Renho have the honours for most adapted and printed versions of the Huā Mùlán story.  When was Huā Mùlán around?  Somewhere before the Tang Dynasty and strewth knows when.  There isn’t really anything written down prior to the poem, Ballad of Mulan.  Where did Huā Mùlán reside?  Again, scholars and literary critics will argue until they’re blue in the face.  The Northern Wei (Běi Wèi) is argued by Xu Wei’s play, whereas, the Sui Tang Yanyi romantic novel has her as a founder of the Tang Dynasty.  The poem was written prior to the latter option.  Guō Màoqiàn, a specialist in poetry and written art, compiled original material somewhere around what is now called Shāndōng… …BUT, his existence even evades evidence.  Her name isn’t always the same either – across novels and accounts, with surnames mentioned as Hua, Zhu, Wei, Ren to Han.

Most stories note Mùlán was sat at a loom (an old fashioned clothing weaving device).  She was worried.  One male from each family must be enlisted to the regional army.  Her father was vulnerable and old, her younger brother too young.  Somehow, Mùlán manages to join in their place through some old-fashioned cross-dressing.  Other stories claim that Mùlán would rather fall on her own sword than be ruled by a foreigner.  Chinese culture is deeply rooted with patriotism – and pride, and massively swayed to family loyalty.  I admire this, and many stories of Mùlán echo this sentiment.  In Disney’s film, Mulan has a dog named “Little Brother” as a nod to her younger sibling joining the army – I hear “Little Brother” means something more phallic here.  Chu Renho’s story follows this but diverts in as that Mùlán is captured by troops loyal to Dòu Jiàndé and his quest to be king.  His daughter and self-titled Princess Xianniang tried to recruit her.  On discovering she wasn’t a man, she blew a gasket of excitement.  They became the female equivalent of blood brothers – sworn sisters.

Amongst the Sui Tang Yanyi, Guō Màoqiàn and Chu Renho visions of Mùlán, there are names like Chi Fu mentioned in the story, translating into English as “to bully”.  The central theme seems to be one Confucian virtue grasped atop all others.  Bravery and loyalty sub-themes easily mask this to a degree but respect for one’s elders, ancestors and ultimately one father stand out.  Perhaps in western families with one parent families, it is not so easy to relate but here in China the story is fiercely relative [pun intended].  The big three authors’ incarnations develop an idea of mass casualties, often at the hands of Mùlán’s armies.

Chu Renho’s romantic book Sui Tang Yanyi actually kills the heroine off.  In a twist A Game of Thrones would be proud of, she commits suicide.  Mùlán’s bad luck starts with her return to her hometown.  Her father had long since died and her mother was re-wed.  The bombshell dropped that she’d have to be a concubine for Heshana Khan of the Western Khaganate.  With that she departed this life for the next, so to speak.  Other works give Mùlán a far healthier and happier sending off.  Chu Renho’s previous incarnation had portrayed Xi tūjué (Western Turkic Khaganate, one of many Turkic peoples present in China back in the Early Middle Ages) as siding with the eventual winners of the Tang Dynasty formation.  As sworn sisters their capture in place of the legging-it-for-his-own-life Dòu Jiàndé could have shocked many.  The nature of their surrender included providing their captor, Li Yuan – Emperor Gaozu of Tang, with knives.  In their mouths.  Instead the Emperor and his wife give the captured money.  Princess Xianniang can return to her beloved Luo Cheng and get hitched whilst Mùlán can go and provide for her parents.

 

In researching and reading more about Mùlán via textbooks downloaded, poems, online biographies, questioning my school’s history teachers, observing debates via Chinese language internet forums and several history documentaries obtained via shady copyright-ignorant backstreet DVD shops…. I have come to little conclusion.  Mùlán and the myths that surround her have accomplished almost as much as she originally set out to do.  Her deception and disguise has hidden the truth, so has legend.  Those who know tales of Robin Hood and the folklores around King Arthur will be fascinated forever.

Swathes of legend mask the story of Mùlán.  Whether you believe that the crown Princess Xianniang’s father was vanquished after buddying up with the enemy in the Tang dynasty leading to the proposed execution or not; or whether you believe Mùlán supported her parents; or whether the story has been lost in so many forms of translation is up to you; and did she really fight for twelve years?!  For me, every incarnation is like the next chapter in the James Bond movie franchise, our heroine grows in stature and delivers a piece of action sometimes a little far-fetched, sometimes embellished and often with an amplified degree of life.

In my opinion, I would advise you to go back to the Dr. No of Mulan.  Read the original 31 couplet poem and relish this scarce but valuable specimen of a fervently strapping woman deep from the annals of Chinese legendary literature and possibly a parody on real unconfirmed history etc.  I challenge you not to take inspiration from Mùlán, the first real embodiment of Superman.  Now we can look to the skies and think about the planet Venus, with a huge crater named after Huā Mùlán – that and behold the future live action Disney release by the same moniker; or we can nip over to the city of Xīnxiāng (Hénán) for a statue entitled Statue of Mulan.  All remains a beautifully stoic mystery that has slipped into popular culture and remains debated.

Wei Yuanfu’s, “Song of Mulan” from the 11th-12th century sums up the vagueness of the story by concentrating on the key point:

 

If in this world the hearts of officials and sons

Could display the same principled virtue as Mulan’s,

Their loyalty and filiality [NB:  the relation or attitude of a child to a parent] would be unbroken;

Their fame would last through the ages—how could it be destroyed?

 

For further reading or vieiwing:

  • Mulan: Rise of a Warrior (2009 film) – Live action film about the Chinese legend. Stars Chén ZǔMíng (Jaycee Chan, son of Jacky Chan) and Zhào Wēi (Vicki Zhao) – who holds around 12 internationally recognised Ambassadorships.

The Legend of Mu Lan:  A Heroine of Ancient China, written and illustrated by Jiang, Wei and Jiang, Cheng An.  ISBN: 1-878217-00-3. (You can even buy a boxset with a doll http://www.heroinesinhistory.com/mulan.html)

The Ballad of Mulan, retold and illustrated by Song Nan Zhang

Pan Asian Publications 1998

The Song of Mulan, Front Street Press

China’s Bravest Girl, Children’s Book Press

Fa Mulan: The Story of a Woman Warrior, Robert D. San Souci, Hyperion Books for Children 1998

The true story of Mulan.    Retrieved May 10th 2015.  (There is a good powerpoint for use in school classes too).

And if you like graphic novels, look up the surreal Deadpool Killustrated (2013), Hua Mulan joins an Avengers Assemble-style cast with Natty Bumppo, Beowulf Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson in H.G. Wells’ time machine.


Badasses of Chinese History:  General Yuè Fēi (岳飞) and four characters (utmost, loyalty, serve and nation:  精忠报国)

 

What is loyalty to you?  Following your rugby or American football team through thick and thin from birth?  Remaining in a job where you barely make ends meet, despite offers from elsewhere?  Collecting the latest batch of belly button challenge website links on your WeChat wall, regardless of the fact the challenge has become boring to most?  When I ask colleagues and friends about General Yuè Fēi, they all mention his undivided loyalty.  I guess that is why he is rumoured to have been tattooed with the phrase “serve the country with the utmost loyalty” (精忠报国 / jìn zhōng bào guó) by his mother.

The four words of Yuè Fēi’s tattoos are noted as appearing on the 1489 stele (a kind of annual rock carving on a slab) placing him in contact with the small Kaifeng Jewish community.  Many communities would encounter him through his time.  Often depicted as a poet, Yuè Fēi has no quotable poetry, according to Princeton University Prof. James T.C. Liu.  The wording on questionable poetry was almost certainly written fair later in history.  His combat inevitably led him to self-repair and a brief study of traditional Chinese medicines.  His teachings hereafter had further depth, assisting his troops on the field.  His other strengths lay in encouraging scholars to come to his troops’ camps and lecture about champions of old, heroes of the nation and deeds done in the name of good.  The double-edged sword meant the scholars would undoubtedly pass on his name and conquests.

Praying Mantis Fist (螳螂拳 / tánglángquán) or Praying Mantis Boxing is a form of aggressive combat created by The 18 Masters invited to improve Shaolin martial arts.  The style of attack is speedy and would probably leave Floyd Mayweather, Jr standing still.  There are knee, elbow and wrist and arm strikes like no other – fittingly reflecting the agility of the praying mantis insects.  Like many legends lost in translation, Yuè Fēi’s part in creating this style is hyperbole.  A historical fiction novel Water Margin (水滸傳Shui Hu Zhuan) and other texts link Yuè Fēi to the noted creators but not as the creator himself.  That said, the movement “Black Tiger Steeling” is accredited to him by the famous Mantis master Yuen Man Kai.  Yuè Fēi’s name is heavily linked to the creation of Eagle Claw (鷹爪派 / yīng zhǎo pài) and XíngYì Quán Boxing 形意拳).  The former was created for low ranking soldiers, whilst the latter became a necessary tool for his officers.

In legend and fiction Yuè Fēi is noted to have studied under Zhōu Tóng (周同) learning varied techniques of combat underscoring brutal skills like joint-locking and something called elephant style boxing (which sounds cumbersome at best).  His methods and teaching conveyed to the battle field with armies swept aside during the Jin dynasty.  His name is attached to several boxing techniques Yue Family Fist (岳家拳 / Yuejiaquan).  Whether he studied Buddhism to adapt things complexly named as the “Tendon Changing and Marrow Washing QiGong” routines into his own methods is up to the academics to debate, but one thing for sure is Yuè Fēi is deeply embedded in martial arts forming in and around his time.

Yuè Fēi’s birth is also subject to mystery and legend.  The book, History of Song (宋史; /Sòng Shǐ) details some interesting stories.  At the time of the parturition his parent’s neighbours ran over with buckets of water to douse a fire on the horizon.  There was no fire.  Péng (鹏), a mystical bird creature, landed before ascending out of sight and hence the name Fēi (飛) meaning fly was given to the new born child by his father.  Yuè Fēi’s father was advised by a local monk (reported to be the immortal Chén Tuán) to dip both mother and Yuè Fēi in a water tank should the small Yuè Fēi start crying.  After several days, baby Yuè Fēi cried.  Mother and baby went for a bath.  The bath washed away as the Yellow Rover burst its banks.  Mother and child remained safe.  Sadly, his father perished in the terrible floods.  The story goes that Yuè Fēi was in a previous life, a Péng.  On hearing of this, an enemy dragon (once blinded by the Péng that would eventually become Yuè Fēi) flooded the river as an act of revenge.  It failed.  Struggling for money, his mother did some needlework for the family housing them.  Nearby to their dwelling was a cave.  As a teenager Yuè Fēi is said to have gone into a cave, enraged a colossal snake, and as he dodged the snake’s probing strikes it vanished.  Puff.  Gone.  A magic spear of the flowering spring (沥泉神矛/ Lìquán Shénmáo) is said to have been left behind following this.  This led him to seek weaponry and combat teachings.

Zhōu Tóng is noted to have led Yuè Fēi to a Buddhist recluse who passed down the skills of his combats.  Around this time teachings by the master archer Zhōu Tóng led to great skills with the bow and arrow, military tactics and spear work.  Skirmishing with hand skills and horse-riding likely came about too.  Yuè Fēi’s alleged inner strengths came from his wisdom of Buddhism.  Zhōu Tóng was his Jedi Master prodigy.  Yuè Fēi seemed to soak up skills and knowledge.  In Hellmut Wilhelm’s From Myth to Myth: The Case of Yueh Fei’s Biography Yuè Fēi is reputed to have sought replication of famous national heroes and had been influenced by reading works by Zuo Zhuan, Wu Qi and Sun Tzu.  His father Yuè He (岳和) had implanted such material on his son.  Did he simply want to mimic those he saw as his supermen?  In reading some of the accounts of Yuè Fēi, there is touch of melodrama, good versus evil and a story that could easily form the plot of a new trilogy of Star Wars movies.  There is love, hate, fights for freedom and war.

The Biography of Yue Fei and the records of E Wang Shi mention Yuè Fēi’s learning from Zhōu Tóng at an early age.  They also mention another mentor, the spear master, Chen Guang (陳廣) who was hired as a kind of Jedi Master Yoda to oversee his stick fighting skills by Yuè Fēi’s grandfather Yao Daweng (姚大翁).  This was a boy conditioned for battle.

War.  What is it good for?  Absolutely everything in a time of conflict and invasion.  From his home in Tangyin County, Henan province, Yuè Fēi was recruited by the Song military in 1122 recruited Yuè Fēi.  In 1126, his squad supressed waves of warlord rebellions in northern China.  This took away much resource from the battles against the Jin.  As the defence of Kaifeng fell, his next movement was to an army in Jiankang.  His rise was spotted as they defended the Yangtze from the invasive Jurchens.  The Song court promoted him to General in the year 1133.  His counterattack against the Jin-backed puppet state of Qi led to many regained territories.  His and other Generals’ armies beat off the invasion allowing for the continuing Song dynasty.  After defeating enemy upon enemy, and against the flow of traffic, he was called back to the Southern Song capital by the Emperor in the year 1141.  Having once defeated 100,000 invaders with only 500 men, for some reason, lost to shelves of history, he was hanged.  Falsified charges by Emperor Gaozong’s servant Qin Hui at fear of exiled Emperor Qinzong’s return no doubt playing a part.  He died aged 39 years old.

In the biography of Yuè Fēi (鄂國金佗稡编/Eguo Jintuo Zubian) written by his grandson Yue Ke (岳珂) there are several approaches that Yuè Fēi utilised efficiently to position his armies. Yuè Fēi rewarded his soldiers well and delivered punishments just as equally.  Discipline was tantamount to forming his armies.  There was to be no pillaging or destruction.  Theft was punishable by execution.  Handing out his own personal effects or threatening to execute his own bloodline for failure was not beneath him.  Clear orders were given and to be taken without a fiasco.  Training was key, and when not in battle, rigorous training and fitness regimes were met.  One day swimming through muck, the next clambering up stones and walls.  When on leave the soldiers trained because they knew how hard they would be put to a task on camp or in a battle.  The usual weaponry and movements were worked on also, but always as close to the real thing as possible.   Yuè Fēi could have started his own Marine Corp or S.A.S.  He would handpick soldiers, even sending home the unfit or elderly.  Inheriting the Han Ching and Wu Xu armies, he sent more than half packing.  For those that remained, he tried to treat them equally sharing wine, even if watered down amongst every soldier – and taking shelter only when his troops all had shelter.

After his death, former soldiers and officers spread his techniques across China, and even back to Shaolin where Li Quan (麗泉) invented Northern Ying Jow Pai boxing – something combined with Yuè Fēi’s previously formed Rotating Fist fighting style (翻子拳 / Fānziquán).  Regarded as a folk hero for defending his country from a northern invasion despite wishing to look after his elderly mother.  Yuè Fēi’s mother’s wish for him to serve his country unbrokenly led to an uncontested unbeaten run in battles.  A poem, The River Turns Red reports:  “I’ll drive a war chariot and smash apart the Helan mountain pass!”  The poem further goes on to show his strength, devotion and care for those who served under him.

After his execution, the legend of Yuè Fēi grew and remains popular amongst storytellers.  Like the legend of Mulan and Zhuge Liang, within Chinese history, mythology and fact can be exaggerated or rewritten.  Yuè Fēi’s history and myths are equally as fascinating and certainly noteworthy of more cultural reading.   He is often wrongly depicted as the individual General who defeated the Juchins; someone fluent in Classical Chinese studies and a knowledgeable Confucian academic – again all likely to be balderdash.  His Grandson, Yue Ke, released a biography, which helped to fan the flames of amplification.  Still, it isn’t a bad way to get temples and shrines devoted to you; like the P.R. powers behind Tom Sawyer or Keyser Söze.

 

For further reading or vieiwing:


 

Enter the dragon’s head

 

Let’s start at the beginning, where all good and bad tales always initiate.  In this case, Thanksgiving Day 2015.  “Hey John, can you go and teach about Thanksgiving Day in an hour?”, my Head of Foreign Languages (just, English, in this case) asked me.  I responded that I know zippity-doo-dah (naff all, nowt, nothing) about said event.  I must confess to making up everything that day (hopscotch is a traditional Thanksgiving game, correct?).  Anyway, that day I met Mr Wong in the Qiáotóu village primary school [their song is called “Dragon Boat Emotion”] and since then we have been friends.

The happening takes place on the lunar calendar date 5th of the 5th month (or Gregorian date 20th June 2015), it popped around after a long day watching dragon boat races in Wàngniúdūn (望牛墩), Zhōngtáng (中堂) and Daojiao (道滘) I went to meet Mr Wong to watch a different kind of race in Qiáotóu (the village in Houjie and not the district in north-eastern Dongguan).  I was shattered but I was curious.  What was going to happen next?  I met Mr Wong in Qiáotóu military barracks, I mean Qiáotóu square.  Centrally stacked was enough ordnances to power the Chinese space programme to save Matt Damon.  Tables stood, village officials and government-looking folk lingered around.  Policeman uncoiled large red wheels of bangers and volunteers edged outwards setting a large viewing area.  Mr Wong called me just as an eruption of firecrackers hit by ear like an angry Muhammed Ali squatting a mosquito.  Through odd breaks in the sounds I was being invited to “come join my team!”  So, I did just that…

Mr Wong’s four-wheel drive vehicle bounced along the narrow streets of Qiáotóu as if we were being pursued by a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  The journey started at Qiáotóu square and ending deep in a chasm of villages that make up Qiáotóucun.  The local buildings excluded modernisation and seemed to be constructed of less plastic and concrete.  Warmth, tradition and air of care clung on like the windows in the walls.  Electrical cables formed no order, strung from building to sorry looking building.  Bricks replaced concrete and rubble replaced tarmac.  The earth infrequently offered green chutes within this area.

Here I was to join a dragon boat race of sorts.  Water not included.  Well, just drinking bottles.  Mr Wong said foreigners never enter this village, and have never had reason to – there are no multinational production companies.  I was greeted extremely warmly and asked to join the red team.  Being a Manchester City F.C. fan, I did not like that idea.  However, I was a guest welcomed to unknown traditional activity.  Whatever it was, I wanted to know about it.  Sacrifices had to be made.  I donned a red t-shirt (I had my purple Manchester City shirt underneath to prevent red t-shirt to skin contact).  It seemed they had planned my visit, the only XXXXL shirt was for me.

 

In 2016, I was invited back by Mr Wong and his friend Mr Marco Chen.  Not to be confused with the Dongguan township of Qiáotóu (桥头镇), Qiáotóu (桥头) is located in southern Houjie town, east of Fengshan park (凤山公园) and south of Houjie’s Line 2 subway station, Shanmei (珊美).  To the south of Qiáotóu is the Exhibition Centre (展览中心) Line 2 subway station.  Qiáotóucun (桥头村) is actually a village made up of seven hamlets.

The procession historically began and concluded at the village Ancestral Temple or Cítáng (池塘).  In the present day, they commence at various Cítángs finding their finale at the village square.  The view from the biggest Cítáng in Qiáotóu stands over the fish pond (池塘/Chítáng, sounds like Cítáng).  At the Cítáng, villagers gather and make important decisions.  Important blessings and ceremonies are held here.  Events gather and ancestral heritage is preserved here.

The tradition, at first, I was told, by one villager, “dated back around six generations and was brought about due to the drying up of several village creaks and two men who raced, carrying large dragon boats, down a village street.”  This stimulated my inquisitiveness much more.  Soon enough, I had a rounder story.

The most consistent account told from generation to generation is one of a severe drought.  Mr Marco Chen, an intellectual-looking chap told me, “The reservoirs and creaks dried up.  For a long time, no rain came.  People prayed and pleaded for rain.  The villagers held an event to show god how genuine their need for water was.  In desperation they displayed a wooden dragon’s head, of a very dry nature, to symbolise luck and best wishes.  Their unadulterated and sincere plea was answered.  A great rain came and the villagers felt blessed and touched deep down.  Every year that followed, the villagers repeated this as a thank you to god.”

The dragon’s head sounds like a name of a public house back home.  In actual fact there is far more at play here, there is a sacred bond between village of Qiáotóu and their dragons’ heads (there are more than one now).  It symbolises happiness, good luck, and good fortune.  There is a belief if you carry it, you shall be blessed with a baby boy [I had noticed many dragon’s head carriers have their young daughters alongside them].  Each hamlet of Qiáotóu has a dragon’s head, a flag and colours.  A privileged few have held the dragon’s heads, bringing belief confidence and many baby boys to those who have held it proudly up high.

At first it was villagers who joined this occasion, then their extended family, and long after friends of their family, until now where far more people connect.  They link into this most historic and unique South China tradition, that is still little known outside of Houjie.  Marco tells me, “A day before, twigs are gathered.  New members are encouraged to join in preparations.  In older times the eucalyptus plant was favoured but now is found to be less abundant.  There are the usual dragon boat festival foods, like Zongzi.  On the night before the event, local children take a bath with goose eggs.  The eggs are put in a net, which is placed into the bath.  This symbolises the hope of children growing up very quickly.”

My team, one of seven in Qiáotóu, was approximately 2500-strong, from toddlers to the very much elderly.  Here everyone was given either a branch (to beat the clouds away from the dragons), a flag (the red or yellow colours of the village), a drum (noises to replicate the racing beats), or replica dragon boats (finely carved but festooned with neon lights).  The team was led by a man holding a wooden dragon’s head.  I was an amateur and newcomer.  I was given a branch.  A small branch at that.  A really small branch.  It was a twig.

We soon set off, joining the red tribe.  There were yellow, blue, green, orange, black and gold tribes around the large village streets.  The object was to snake around the village.  On meeting the other tribes, firecrackers were thrown at their feet to signify the battle of the racing boats.  The team that did not dance well with those who carried the dragon heads and small boat effigies performing their moves, decided without hesitation by the opposing teams, had to turn around and snake another route.  The village’s most-eldest people watched on from doorways and seats around the area.  As a westerner, I knew I would stand out.  I was greeted with curiosity and welcomed by all.

This event happens annually but only for a few hours.  The first time I joined, I felt wave after wave of euphoria and privilege to have been invited to such a matchless and rare occurrence.  Again, at my second coming, I feel fully euphoric.  Through working for Worlda Guangzhou, I was posted to Dao Ming Foreign Language School, who sent me on a Thanksgiving Day task to Qiáotóu’s state school, where I met Mr Wong, who has friends involved in this annual event.  A set of links so finite that led to me experiencing something so exceptional and spell-bounding.  I felt joy, like never experienced for many years before, like a kid at Christmas, unwrapping a present, not suspecting that his parents have worked exceedingly hard to buy them that Lego set the kid dreamed he would never ever reach.  I was that kid once, thanks to my mum, I had that gift – and through her (and Dad’s) gift of life to me, I experienced that moment.  The moment has gone, but every now and then life throws something beautiful my way, this was that twinkling ticking trice.

Over the years, tribalism has rocketed, exploding with each clan being rewarded at the central square for their final dance.  The central Qiáotóu Square is where the judges convene and do their best Simon Cowell impressions.  The team of kinfolk from Qiáotóu that wins, receives honours and a prize for their ‘hood of Qiáotóu village.  On asking Edison to translate my questions to many locals, it became apparent that this is a totally unique form of this festival nationally.  This time around, I was interviewed for local television, asking my opinion on this unique and vibrant exclusive custom.  A rainbow with sounds, drums, whistles and firecrackers.  Friendly faces welcome me continuously a team clad in red and yellow invite me to lift the dragon’s head.  I lift it.  I will probably have a baby boy [pending ongoing logistical problems].

With backing of the government to this ritual and protection from commercialisation, outside exposure allows gentle promotion of this intangible local heritage and culture.  Fireworks and firecrackers are allowed by special permission of the government.  The powers that be strictly observe the position and routes of said fireworks ensuring all around are safe and buildings are not put at risk.  The villagers are extra careful in protecting their culture and edifices.

Mr Marco Chen highlights, “The current dragon boat traditions of Qiáotóu encourage team building and bonding.  We ensure as a team, we visit every other team’s Cítáng (池塘) to show communication of the villages and brotherhood.  Togetherness in our villages is most important.  It is a quality we want each new generation to carry forward.  We retain old world values and traditions whilst now including entertainment.  There are prizes for winning team displays and happiness is shared with family and friends.  There are skills used and learnt, tradition, generations together and positive attitudes throughout.  This teamwork is most important to Qiáotóu, and now beyond.”

 

To see the event, or to explore Qiáotóu, locate the many Ancestral Temples (Cítáng/池塘) and head around towards Qiáotóu square (alongside Guantai Lu) from 8pm to 10pm on the 5th evening of the 5th lunar month [9/6/2016; 30/5/2017; 18/6/2018].

 

Further reading:  Title: Drought Longxiang; ISBN-13: 9787536049475; ISBN-10: 7536049471; Author: BEN SHE YI MING; Binding: Paperback; Publisher: Flower City out; Published: December 1991; Price: 56RMB; Synopsis: An introduction to the festival.


 

The Case Against Qi Xi Festival

China has a rise on love dates in its ever-growing and evolving love culture, but is it all codswallop?

 

The letter l resembles the number one, and o as zero, v could be seen as the roman numeral V and e as a letter nowadays akin to electronics. Ladies and jelly spoons, I give you the October the 5th, love your electronics day. That is how some of the logic behind dates, that loosely resemble Valentine’s Day, appear to me.

I have no gripes with truly traditional dates, but it seems here the overlords of capitalism have stepped in and labelled everything according to the monthly sale of choice. The mythology behind QiXi (七夕節) and its older than 2600-year old history is interesting and worthy of a read. Sadly, an evening of sevens is like every other Valentine’s day, a chance to promote discount red panties and half-priced popcorn at the cinema.

What astounds and boggles the mind is the pick and mix of dates on offer to show your love (whether you are an abusive lover or a gentle giant). 20th and 2st of May, a is full of phonetics [“I (5) love (2) you (0/1)”]. Unlike QiXi, this date will never make National Intangible Cultural Heritage status. Regular February the 14th rears its head with standard décor and sales galore. 11/11 is a sacred date in the U.K., tied to remembrance days and mourning. Here all those ones mean single. Similarly, it could also be a digital on switch day. Lantern festival (元宵节) once carried a similar weight in ancient times for headhunting new love. Now there is a sale of lovely items tied in for fans of fanciful fondness. There seems to be a romantic date every week.

Many shops fill with bouquets of flowers, purple teddy bear crazes, tedious looking poetry pieces, chocolates (usually of bitter taste), and gifts of fancy that look at home in a very much discounted discount store. Call me the Scrooge of lust and adoration, but some tacky items are so bad, I question who came up with such ideas. It is the same for almost every occasion and often something straddles Hallowe’en, Easter and Christmas just because it has different shades of glitter.

It is great to see a happy couple minding their own business and enjoying life. Unless, they wear matching t-shirts, adorn themselves in signage to declare their commitment, or post WeChat posts of every moment they shared together (with the world), or get snagged in by supposed romantic restaurant specials. Stay at home, cook something amazing and keep it to yourselves. It isn’t a pissing competition. Tell commercialism, materialism, and face to have a day off. In the days leading up to these sort of dates, expect prices to double, treble and add on some more. Your money is wanted. Your love is the weapon for the faceless businesses. If it happens to be a case of the more expensive the gift, you give results in a feeling of the more you love him/her/it [modern world, folks] then maybe you should be investing in yellow roses, umbrellas and shoes [Symbols of a break up].

Jewel prices will rocket, fruit will be carved into heart shapes, perfumes may appear to be everywhere, and cheap looking teddy bears will breed out of hand. Resist the dark side. There may even be an imbalance of giving but not receiving, maybe that is normal, I wouldn’t know – as I avoid giving gifts on commercialised festivals.

I am off to collect WeChat numbers off rotten oranges I’ve spotted in the River Dongjiang. If you truly care about the one love in your eyes, do something from the heart on any day of the year, preferably one that doesn’t phonetically sound like the word love being whistled by a songbird perched on a daisy overlooking fern gully. Be natural. Don’t be dictated to by the shops and restaurants. Enjoy the 5th of October.


 

In Brief – Q M J

What is Qing Ming Jie? Well, firstly, it is known by many names. Qingming Jie (清明节) is most common in the English tongue. It is often referred to as Tomb Sweeping Day (扫坟节) and sometimes known as Ching Ming Festival (清明節). Some refer to it as Ancestors Day. It commemorates the onset of spring as well as one to remember forefathers. It is a date for clearness and brightness (清明节means ‘clear and bright’). Think Mexico’s Día de Muertos (Day of The Dead), Ghost Festival (Malaysia etc) and Bon Festival (Japan), Samhainn (Scotland/Ireland), or Totensonntag.

When will Tomb Sweeping Day be? It falls on Tuesday 4th of April in 2017, 2020 and 2021, and the 5th of April in 2018 and 2019. It follows the solar equinox of Spring. It is either on the dates of the 4th, 5th or 6th of April. However, across China it can differ. In Hebei, it may start a week earlier, and in Guangdong the sweeping of tombs is on the eve of the day itself.

Why is it important? This is a chance to remember past ancestors.

What happens? Relatives clean and sweep graves. Ancestors are worshiped. There is often an offering of food to the deceased. Expect to see the burning of joss paper (zhǐqián金纸). Qīngtuán(青团) is often eaten. It is a green dumpling, made of barley grasses (Hordeum murinum), mugwort (Artemisia argyi or Artemisia verlotiorum species). It is quite glutinous. Prayers are cast and flowers often given to the buried or cremated. Revolutionary martyrs are celebrated.

When did it holiday begin? It officially became a public holiday as recent as 2008. However, the origin of the festival spans as far back as 636BC. Emperor Ming of Tang (武隆基) stopped the elite from their regular homages to ancestors and decided one day a year was enough. He decided that the Cold Food Festival – Hanshi (寒食节) was a good time. Visiting old tombs, cock-fighting, swinging on children’s swings, the freshening of blankets and tugs of war filled a vibrant celebration of fallen lineages.

Is it a sad day? Yes, and no. Losing a loved one is always sad. It is also a chance to celebrate the love of life. Happiness and solemnness sit together.

Can you join in? You don’t need to kneel at a graveside prostrating to the lost. You don’t even need to offer food or wine by way of sacrifice. Whilst some offer mobile phones, you can even hire someone to go pay tribute for you. You can fly kites, celebrate the arrival of spring, and take a spring outing. This dates as far back as the Tang Dynasty. Or, you could even plant a willow tree. Some people even tell ghost stories… Hiking is also a popular pursuit.

Cup of tea? It is likely an expensive tea you are enjoying might be a prestigious ‘Pre-Qing Ming’ (清明前). After Qing Ming Jie tea is cheaper, I guess.

Key words for your Chinese:

清明节 (qīng-míng jié) Qingming Festival

扫墓 (sǎo mǜ) sweep tombs

祭祖 (jì zǔ) worship (sacrifice to) ancestors

纸钱 (zhǐ qián) joss paper: paper made to resemble money and burned as an offering to the dead

烧香 (shāo xiāng) burn joss sticks (incense)

Why did I want to write about this festival? Life is wonderful and remembering those no longer with us is part of life. Today is tomorrow’s yesterday. Today is the right time to remember the luck and fortune that has brought us to this moment. If things have been hard along the way, so be it. Just keep moving forward. But, never forget the past.

 

杜牧/Dù Mù’s poem “qīng míng”:

 

清明时节雨纷纷

qīng míng shí jié yǔ fēn fēn

A drizzling rain falls on the Mourning Day;

 

路上行人欲断魂

lù shàng xíng rén yù duàn hún

The mourner’s heart is breaking on his way.

 

借问酒家何处有

jiè wèn jiǔ jiā hé chù yǒu

Inquiring, where can a wineshop be found?

 

牧童遥指杏花村

mù tóng yáo zhǐ xìng huā cūn

A cowherd points to Apricot Flower Village in the distance.

 

Further information: Wikipedia’s guide to Qing Ming Festival.

Myths and legends of Chinese Tomb Sweeping Day via ancient-origins.net.

Travel China explains Qingming Festival.

Qing Ming according to Malaysian Digest.

Cinema Survival in China

RECOVERED FROM THE DEMISE OF HUBHAO.COM

(as true today as at the time of writing in April 2015; I watched Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, to the added soundtrack of snoring for 2 hours!!!)

The cinema, a place of magic, emotions and white-knuckle rollercoaster rides.  Often many battles are on-screen and increasingly as East meets West clashes engulf the big screen movie theatres.  Here is a guide to go in prepared and come out leaving no man behind.

  1. Some theatres sit on shopping mall roofs, others are slap-dashed onto the side of the road. Knowing the location and layout is important.  Research the journey time from the complex entrance to screen time.  Once in the scramble for seats can resemble something like Raiders of The Lost Ark.  Most times I have been to the cinema the screen has opened only ten to fifteen minutes like back home.  The difference here is that people arrive pretty much at kick off and five to ten minutes into tonight’s feature presentation.  Here a standard tut would suffice in the U.K.  Find something to bite your teeth into.  I go all-Jaws and choose the odd spectator who bugs me the most.
  2. Regarding queues, sometimes the lines (a loose definition at best) can resemble a snake (on a plane?). That is if the snake has been ran over several times by a large Monster Truck.  Ticket booths connected to numerous websites and social platforms are on the rise – thankfully.  With respect to prices, a 3D movie including recyclable glasses costs 35RMB at Xingx International Cinema, or 25RMB for a regular movie.  You must join the free VIP schemes starting from an investment of 500RMB (all this money can be used on snacks and tickets).  Just be prepared to scramble rather than queue.  Add extra padding to the elbows and stand tall for extra swipe – or study under the guidance of Bruce Lee’s gym.  Be ready.
  3. Vending points and snacks make up a good element of the cinema going experience. In China Pick ‘n’ Mix is replaced largely by a lack of choice.  Considering outside beyond the entrance to the flicks, snacks are commonplace, inside the demesne of the cinema, snacks can be limited to slightly sweet popcorn and one flavour of QQ candy gums.  The dispenser or a red and white labelled effervescent drink looks worn and is in actuality out of order.  Verity be that water is for sale here.  Salty popcorn is a rarity.
  4. Trailers often hype up the movies massively back home in the U.K. I think almost every film I have watched has been based on seeing a trailer in the movie houses.  com is your friend now.  Oddly no promos or commercials for unrelated products preluded the movie.  If you want an advertisement fix, you need to head to any major shopping mall and take a wander.  Your senses will be bombarded and you may suffer Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in response.  All because the cinema didn’t play the latest Calvin Whatever’s underwear advertisement.
  5. The lack of pre-movie trailers meant that a screen full of rules didn’t slam on the screen in your face. There was no warning.  Copyright warnings didn’t follow.  Pearl and Dean have no place here.  Amazingly, some cinema tickets display a rule about bringing Durian into the screen – and strictly no animals.  If you want a helping of rules then simply exit China for Germany, where there are too many rules in comparison.  The cost may be substantial.
  6. In the U.K. the soft rustle of popcorn packets and crunches of nachos can bet met with a stern “shhhh” or “hush.” Here in China the noises can be very loud.  Phonecalls can be pretty normal.  A phrase such as “ānjìng” may ruffle a few feathers, “Xiǎoshēng yīdiǎn” is literally quieter please and “Bì zuǐ!” is shut up – and much less polite.  These are also useful for teaching, which is just as well, because you’ll be teaching more than one cinema-goer.  I opt for the, “Néng bù néng ānjìng yīdiǎn?”  Quiet down a little.  Just don’t be a party spoiler and expect every noise – or cheers of excitement to dampen down.  Part of the experience is seeing people excited by what they are seeing in two or three dimensions.  Oh, and then there’s often a crèche of children playing at the front of the screen with the soft furnishings as behind them Christopher Waltz and co spook their menacing presence on screen with wraith.
  7. Phones are a bugbear of many a person. The piercing shrill of Nokia haunts me.  At the cinema, I recommend you place some earplugs in and just try to imagine the dialogue.  Otherwise, this is something you’ll have to get used to.  Adapt, make a long distance call, wake someone up.  Let them share your disgust at people making and taking calls in the cinema.  Join the dark side.
  8. Don’t expect to see anyone in the nip. High skirts are the norm for fashion here.  Some scenes face the chop faster than you can say, “Don’t feed them after midnight.”  Nudity and low dress cleavages are censored on television for popular shows like British yawn inducing Downton Abbey – so Tom Cruise and co won’t make out on the silver screen.  Overly sexualised films like Fast & the Furious 24 will always sneak by.  If you’re missing the nudity and beyond romance scenes, try recreating said scenes by doodling the scenes like Jack did in the epic don’t-go-by-ship yarn Titanic.
  9. Taking a large cut out of a mobile phone form, a bottle profile or the silhouette of the latest techno advance isn’t a bad idea.  Chinese releases of western movies often have added product placement.  Whilst you get more movie, you get pushed to buy the latest deoxygenised mineral waters.
  10. The latest Hollywood blockbuster might not be tailored for the Chinese. The sense of humour gap and subtitles (Lost in Translation?) can decrease a movie or even an entire genre demand. Whilst you may think Star Wars is great, spectators from more remote regions – and culturally different folk – far, far away may not.  Sometimes a movie can be released and cancelled in the same week or slated on the first day.  Time is money.  Act fast.  Get there, see it – or await the DVD release (downloads are now available to the more tech savoir-faire).

For further reading:

The History of Cinema in China – Retrieved from Wikipedia, 2015/04/21.

Lesson plan guidance – Retrieved 2015/04/19.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/film-news/10041924/Chinas-Iron-Man-3-milks-its-product-placement.html – Retrieved 2015/04/19.

Teaching with Chopsticks CONTINUED

RECOVERED FROM THE DEMISE OF HUBHAO.COM

Some things are essential to leaving the classroom, feeling not only like you did a good job but that you made a difference is key for me.  You have to be a realist and know that best laid plans will come unstuck every now and then.  To be prepared is to be ready, and ready for action you must be.

In full focus.  Some days are hot, some days are stickier than a bun factory’s spillage of extra-gummy jam, some days it don’t come easy… some days it doesn’t come at all.  Meat Loaf lyrics aside, you need focus.  Buckets of concentration melted together with motivation to perform.  You cannot walk into any class half-heartedly.  Finding the on switch is relatively easy.  A smile, a blast of some good music, a stroll around the school grounds, anything to clear you mind and feel fresh.  In the domain of teaching, insufficient time is afforded to that best buddy of the educator:  relaxation.  Daydreaming and doodling have been linked with high intelligence levels and creativity.  I like to think all my best ideas have stemmed from drawing fictitious maps and brainstorms resembling that of a biro-inscribed cyclone.  Move around the classroom, get many eyes following you!

Made from concentrate.  I hate being ignored.  I detest it when I lose one or two students to boredom, tiredness or the pressures of stacked homework lay before them.  I despise concentration being sapped by distractions.  That said, I can understand.  Empathy and sympathy are your allies.  Your movements and actions will deliver your crowd.  Think slapstick or stand-up comedy over standing up straight.

Realistic goals.  This goes for both students and teachers, because ultimately why aim to high and totally miss your targets?  The level of English in various schools or even within one grade can differ drastically.  You can’t leave behind any stragglers and similarly you cannot abandon the child geniuses.  The fine balance between testing and arduous should sit just above competence and challenging.  With experience you can find that titrated line.  If 80% of the class is at a level higher than the balance, you can over one semester encourage the inexperienced students onwards with more one-on-one assistance and praise.  Their confidence might just need your backing and reassurance.

Lesson planning.  I love to do something.  I hate to plan.  That said, a great plan gives fantastic guidance and helps you avoid stumbling into a ravine without a paddle for the creek below.  Finding a lesson plan is easy.  Then it must be tailored.  The end product needs to suit you, and you alone.  For my lesson plans I slice them into ten key components.  (1)  Do you have a clear and outlined method?  (2)  The lesson should be segmented into presentation, practice and production areas.  (3)  How big will activities be?  Teamwork versus pair work or smaller groups of four?  (4) Push for student talking time, over teacher talking time – where oral English is key.  (5)  Plainly outline the target phraseology and vocabulary.  Avoid clutter.  (6)  Handouts, activities and supporting materials need to be noted clearly.  (7)  Is an example of board work necessary?  (8)  Minimise non-essential skills such as reading or writing when pushing for oral English practice.  (9)  Ensure the students practice what you have taught them and define how you can check this.  (10)  Ensure the task pours, surges and flows as required by bringing the matter to life with a great review…

Reviews.  Perhaps, the only way you’ll ever develop as a teacher is by assessing the level of response from students in a review.  If the games or activities are dull, a poker-face laden class will stare emptily until the class bell.  If the final undertaking is too difficult, confusion and ignorance will call by for a bite to eat:  you’re on the menu!  Engaging review games can catch attention.  They will reveal how much has been learnt or bolstered.  Using characters from popular culture like those of Super Mario Brothers, the latest boybands, or famous sport stars will engage your crowd.  If it is obscure, you’ll lose the crowd.  That said, a personal touch reflecting you and your life can fascinate the gazing eyes.  Add life, add personality and add some spirit.  I have a class that have nicknamed me Tofu.  Since then an entire Powerpoint presentation was based around a dialogue revolving around the food, a fictional superhero called Fantastic Tofu and the new game Super Tofu Brothers.  If a particular class embraces something, you can play off it – it may be tedious to you, but dive in with full passion and join me in a method I like to call Teaching with Tofu!

And with those words of wisdom, I end on a quote by The Hold Steady, “We gotta stay positive”.

For further reading:

Lesson plan maker – Retrieved 2015/04/19.

Lesson plan guidance – Retrieved 2015/04/19.


RECOVERED FROM THE DEMISE OF HUBHAO.COM

Introductions are meant to be swift and to the point.  That’s my introduction over with.

Try to know your students and their knowledge.  In a more technical way I could call this heading, “Acquire relevant knowledge about students”.  Students will have their own cultural and generational backgrounds.  They will have been influenced by their parenting; their friendships; mass media and so on and so on… If you mention Japan in many classes, some closed responses shall follow, but increasingly you may find good arguments or great positivity to Japanese culture.  The beauty of using a controversial or current affairs topic is that it can help develop descriptive terminology.  Similarly, a student with a history of poor discipline can be enticed by different approaches.  What they have learned, whether correct or totally erroneous can shape how they learn new topics.  There isn’t a simple way to note how much every student or a group of students know, but having an idea is a fine way to start your preparations!  Your course design for pacing, examples and format – even the objective depends entirely on knowing your students and their ability.  With this you can flush away misconceptions and draw up clear guidance routes.

 

Teamwork.  Let’s be fair, teamwork is something we all love when it goes well.  When it doesn’t it is hard, but then you find how to develop the strengths within the ranks of a team.  Weaknesses become stronger through assistance and collaboration.  All major road cycling races have a winner, but the team that gets the winner there, does most of the work.  Be they mechanics, support staff or the cycling squad.  In a team, all are accountable.  Responsibility and pride force the hand of those trying to shirk away.  The teamwork is far more social and can heighten understanding.  Essentially students have a jigsaw and through their own methods, they can assist each other.  I’m a massive believer in questions and answers.  For every question a student asks you, try to reply clearly – before launching your own questions.  The beauty of the modern world is you’re never more than one metre from a gameshow.  Turn “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?” into a classroom activity.

 

Varied learning techniques.  Variety is the spice of life.  Fact.  Monotony creates boredom.  Monotony creates boredom.  If students are forced to sit and listen, expect a disaster of biblical proportions.  What I mean is Old Testament, real wrath of God type stuff.  Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling!  Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together… mass hysteria!  The students must talk.  Through talking they can connect.  They can apply the words by relating it to their experience.  Their learning will become their life and through each oral English lesson they will gain further invaluable experience.  I often devise undertakings to promote the key language skills in naturalised forms, e.g. if we’re discussing transport, why not perform a role-play based on travelling to the Sudirman Cup final (or something topical).

 

Timekeeping skills.  Class begins at 11am.  You have 40 minutes.  Remember to segment the class structure.  Tailor all to the students’ needs.  From experience energy will be highest early on.  Throw in a warm up activity then go straight into an introduction.  Now stop and review.  Slide in some more content, stop, practice and deliver.   Time for a final review?  Class is over.  Be realistic with timeframes.  Nothing great comes from too much review time, and likewise, nothing fantastic can emerge from too much introductory timing.  Only yawns.  Use timers on Powerpoint presentations, stopwatches, clocks and set clear limits for tasks.

 

Excellent!  Well done!  I recommend that you do your homework before the students even receive any homework from you.  Grab yourself a thesaurus.  Try to introduce new vocabulary, be it single words like fantastic or tremendous – or simple sentences of praise and encouragement.  “Try harder next time” can flip to “An admirable effort, but I know you can do better.”  Whether the work or task was first-rate, outstanding, exceptional, superb or poor, words are powerful tools to motivate and provide curiosity.  The students mind may ignore the praise, they may investigate it further, or they may learn an expression and fire it off at peers in the future.  That seed can fast become a network of positivity branching out in the tree of life.  Feedback should be seen as a chance to reflect on what you have asked – and not a motivator for incorrect learning.  Wisely must the force you use be.  Liam, a teacher, I know uses fist bumps, high fives and many other praising moves learnt from the ghettos of Weymouth (U.K.).  Try to vary your praising methods.  Introduce more internationally noted cultural nods of approval.


RECOVERED FROM THE DEMISE OF HUBHAO.COM

Teachers are hugely important in a community.  Education and development of youth pushes the next generation onwards.  During these impressionable years children will be imparted with facts, figures and fart jokes.  These will stay with them forever.  With their new knowledge the student can go on and be responsible, productive and a valuable member of society.  And they’ll probably still tell fart jokes.

 

Diversify.  Theory and practice are two different things.  Flitting between each method is a good way to engage all.  In the novel Jurassic Park, penned by Michael Crichton, a character Dr. Grant talks about two kinds of people, “There are those that want to be astronomers, and those that want to be astronauts.”  The former studies from a point of absolute safety, the other is more like the explorer.  To make a class as hands-on as possible, sometimes lessons need to be outside the box.  For beyond the territories of old-fashioned teaching gives students ways to learn and develop their talents in ways more fitting to showing it off.  Varying assignments, exercises and even the location of teaching can certainly arouse the senses.

 

Build rapport.  So many times I have seen new teachers come and expect instant enthusiasm.  It is insulting to think you’ll be respected and learnt from within the first few classes.  There will always be curiosity but once that wanes, what remains?  Beyond the classroom, keep your office door open; tell students they are welcome to talk more outside of classes; join in with activities beyond your paid time; help the quieter students feel included; take on the tough kids and distractors, find out more about them; and always be approachable.  Wear a smile.  Be professional.  If it is for a moment raining in your heart, bring sunshine to those indoors.  Students will embrace you not just as a teacher, but someone to look up to and learn from as a community member.  Teaching isn’t about being a friend or popular, it is about commanding a respect to encourage your students to learn.

 

Aim higher than the stars.  Previously I penned the importance of realistic goals.  That’s for the students.  For you, as a teacher, should be looking at something far greater: the unreachable wall of perfection.  Don’t just copy and paste last year’s work.  Think how it can be improved.  Is there a different method of review you can use?  Could I modernise or make the images more relevant to the student audience?  How can I encourage more oral English opportunities?  Your expectations can always be heightened.  To quote Nelson Mandela, “after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.”  Do this, and you’ll feel more satisfied.  Depend on older material and you’ll soon become fatigued.

 

There is no Plan B?  Of course there is a plan B.  I personally opt for plans C, D, E and F.  We’re in a subtropical region, with high humidity and build ups of saline detritus on projectors or even power-cuts may ruin a well-prepared powerpoint.  What’s more is that the humidity has rendered a box of chalk into a useless pulp of mush.  The dry wipe white board is not to be used as a previous teacher used a permanent marker and the word comparative has remained on that board for two years.  Unlike the other classrooms the board isn’t magnetised and sticky backed plastic can’t be utilised due to an invasive mouse population in your stationery draw.  Your computer has gave up the ghost too.  Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.  Games and flashcards sat in folders, pre-printed materials, pairwork activities, turning the classroom into an arena… every possibility; nothing’s left to chance.  Think on your toes.

 

Clear boundaries.  If there are two pathways, one is shorter than the other and involves little effort.  You’ll feel happy but relaxed afterwards.  The other pathway is steep, challenging and you will learn as much about yourself as the matter.  You will feel like you have worked hard on this latter path.  Which pathway do you take?  You must articulate to your students, what is acceptable in the learning process.  Recently in Wuhan, drones were used to curb cheating for the National College Entrance Exam.  Of course you want collaboration in teamwork, but in testing an individual, you need their purest response.  You don’t want answers from Professor Google and Dr. Baidu.  I’ve seen hand-written answers copied from Wikipedia complete with coloured hyperlinks and lines beneath them.  Even the red spellchecker error lines appeared.  I tend to highlight my rules early on, and address any breaches as and when with a three strikes and you’re out warning.  Plagiarism and replication of other student’s complete work can turn into a detective job at times.

 

 

 

For further reading:

“Implementing the Seven Principles: Technology as Lever” by Chickering and Ehrmann – Retrieved 2015/06/15.

“Clear Learning Objectives” – Retrieved 2015/06/15.


RECOVERED FROM THE DEMISE OF HUBHAO.COM

Making money.  I dislike money, I never seem to have enough or more appropriately, I’m totally irresponsible with my hard-earned dosh.  I earn my bread and then redistribute it on a combination of soft drink addictions and the need to add bits to my bicycle having shredded one part or the other.  I’m told you can save money easier by taking on extra jobs.  “Where can I find more work?”  I’m glad you have asked.  There’s the internet with forums like Dave’s ESL Café (www.eslcafe.com), there’s more regional classified adverts (like on Hubhao), social media like QQ, Facebook and WeChat groups.  Placing an advert in a bar or public place generally gets you spotted quickly.  Beyond the school gates in amongst the masses of parents is a good place to hand out your number and simple advertisement [Disclaimer:  check with your school first, and your teaching contract if this is okay].  Asking senior teachers if they know of anybody looking for private tuition will find you work.  In sunny Houjie, I have had a dozen requests each month and I usually delegate them to my immediate colleagues or friends.  Some of us like free time too much!

 

Forward thinking.  Ever had an idea during a class?  A bright spark followed by that lightbulb moment?  Yes, we all do.  Note it down for later.  During my summer vacation I plan to tailor images, bring props, bring some real things from home, kidnap my parents and force them to move to China… and so on.  There are gaps that can be brought to life in every topic.  I just need to get a life size replica of the Eiffel Tower into China… oh, wait, that’s already been done!!!  I plan this summer to collect magnetic board games including a giant Jenga; some English story books; more things to do with Manchester and the U.K. in general; prizes for games and competitions; seashells from the U.K. and many, many new holiday photos with friends and family.  I am a guest in China, and I want my students to be guests in my life and happenings.

 

Notes.  Notes, not of the musical variety, although that does help occasionally…  “Old MacDonald had a farm… A-E-I-O-U.”  I mean notes, as in minutes, records, transcripts or observations are important.  I average an A4 sized notepad every quarter of a year for a reason.  I rarely write anything beyond words, short sentences and abbreviated squiggles.  This is my idea factory.  Some ideas never bear fruit or even blossom.  Others get filling, direction and fill Powerpoints, games, review tasks, ideas to brighten the school walls up, become performances, songs, poems etc.  Notes, to me, are the foundation blocks of teaching.  Plus, every now and then, I look back at my notes from years gone by and find a piece of gold dust that gives rise to something big and wonderful (like posters about European nations and their culture etc).  Creativity can be born from one note.  La, la, la, laaaaaa.

 

Instructions and examples.  Before travelling somewhere unfamiliar for an interview or appointment, I look at the mode of transport, costs, timings, practicalities, possible weather and climate, etc.  The same applies to teaching instructions.  My sets of instructions have to be clear, broken down into steps, with the relevant introduction and content.  Without this, I am asking for anarchy and pandemonium to visit our classroom.  Alongside the clear instructions, support must be provided and clear examples given.  From knowing my classes I select the best students (and not always the same ones each time, to keep it fair overall) to assist me with demonstrating what we must do.  On the projection wall will sit a further example too.  I will enter the arena and probe around the classroom looking to see demonstrations being practiced before calling forward students to review their collective effort.

 

Don’t jump to conclusions.  Guess what?  As a teacher, you’re not a student.  You’re a teaching expert.  Reading between the lines, filling in gaps, and applying our own comprehension is instinctive.  Sometimes we must switch from autopilot mode into something more appropriate.  We can’t cycle from Chengdu to Paris, without the adequate preparation.  Students need to avoid confusion.  We must prevent them connecting two dots to form a line that is so wonky, one dot may fall off and land in a pile of previously failed dots.  Breaking up duties ensures that each instruction is followed step-by-step along the floor, then up some stairs and high above into the mountains before flight is encouraged.  Take nothing for granted, share how you think as an expert.  The parrot copies human voices for a reason and then applies the skill with precise action.  Your students can do anything with clear, concise instructions.

 


RECOVERED FROM THE DEMISE OF HUBHAO.COM

Don’t flood the market.  Rome wasn’t built in a day.  Nor was a complete understanding of the English language or uses of said philological skills.  There are professors and scholars always trying to further this language of ours.  Don’t worry about everything.  Narrow it down to just a little by little approach.  If you blanket a subject, you’ll swamp it into a boggy, murky, twisted mess and scare the students away!  Don’t do too much in a short space of time.  We must know what to include and what to eject.  Your favourite subjects of contents, e.g. football and cycling may not be apt for the syllabus.  The semester or year needs clear division into units.  Each unit must have a focus and target language.  The students’ experiences, background and class numbers need to be accounted into the material.  I have often split a* unit* into multiple classes to get a sounder understanding of more difficult subjects.  Simply prioritising and setting purposes helps.

 

Questions and answers.  I find that just a simple question with a simple answer isn’t enough to keep a conversation flowing.  Closed questions, the kind where, yes, no and maybe arise can kill a conversation.  More open questions can lead a conversation to more questions and details.  I try to encourage my students to work in pairs and have one student as the question master and the other as questioned.  This is a great technique for reviewing a subject and also makes the students think harder about the level of detail in their answer.  If the task is limited to one minute then the student can respond strongly to prevent further questions.  If the questioned student is too simplistic with their answers the question master can launch many questions.  This makes for a good spectator competition, but use it sparingly – as too many rounds will make you question using this challenge again.

 

Are you the challenger?  Don’t agree with everything.  You can be much more than someone who nods their head and says, “Yes” or “Okay.”  We can be a commentator like of Match of the Day; we can be a challenger like in a public debate; we can be more moderate like a news presenter; or we orchestrate an argument to develop deeper conversation.  Through these characters we can guide students, change behaviours, and promote thinking critically.  It goes without saying about avoiding religious and political debate but subjects such as wildlife conservation and attitudes to animal care make for interesting discussion.  Perhaps give students roles, like a hunter, a conservation worker, a wildlife guard, the family of the hunter, the medicine maker, the police and anyone else connected directly to illegal rhino horn poaching.  You’ll maybe see and hear defences, objectiveness and bias.  Flip the roles between students and see if they can understand one another’s arguments.  Challenge each student with simple questions.  Who?  When?  What?  Why?  How?  Which?  Where?

 

Handouts.  “Save the world”, “save trees”, “recycle”, are a few cried heard all over the world.  If you pass the photocopying room at my school, close to exam time, you’ll hear a different kind of whimper.  As the photocopiers go all lifeless and silent or they spew out worthless misprints the copy staff go postal.  Handouts in classes are essential for homework.  For a class task, it is worth asking two to six students to share one sheet of A4 or A3 paper.  A shared task and prompt sheet is more likely to drive the behaviours needed for good team etiquette.  And you’ve just saved the Amazon rainforest!

 

Evaluate and evolve.  Teachers have basic principles but over the years our methods have become more and more chameleonic.  The successful teacher adapts to new technologies and new methods.  They seek new ideas and embrace them.  They also refine the tried and tested methods to a finite degree of near perfection.  There’s no resting on their laurels (or Sweet Bay leaves).  If something that did work, no longer works, changes must be made.  A variety of incidents may change your teaching methods.  A class size change from 16 to 60 certainly will make you uneasy.  The old rules may be redundant.  There may be a drive for more advanced media orientated or business connected vocabularies.  You must know what to do, usually by understanding your previous workings, exams, evaluations and student knowledge.  You may need to prepare extra base work or go off subject to bring about further knowledge teaching.  You may need a library, online resource, ask somebody for help or forum to seek new ideas or guidance.  From here we can construct content with objectives, structure, adjust and format a new range of materials.  Not everything comes from experience.  Keeping it as simple as possible will make it much more management.

 

For further reading:

*Is it an unit or a unit?  See this debate.


 

 

Teaching with Chopsticks #1

RECOVERED FROM THE DEMISE OF HUBHAO.COM

Delving into my mind can be a dangerous adventure.  There are millions of self-help guides littering shelves of local and international bookstores.  This is not intended to dictate or to be taken as gospel.  Teaching English is very much like tasting Marmite – you either fall in love with it, or you hate it.  Like most long-standing sandwich spreads, you’ll adapt, innovate and reinvent.  The cycle of normality will be broken.  Back off textbook simplicity.  I want to offer five tips, not in the fly-tipping or gratuities sense but these little boons:

 

  1. Teaching should be very personal.

When you meet someone interesting, they stand out.  Why do they stand out?  They’re interesting, you switch on.  Give the students what they want and they’ll want more.  You’re a teacher from a far off mystical land.  More is less, less is more and so on.  Using the imagination and your passion will drive their interest.

 

  1. Fear nothing. Lead the way.

The worst that can happen will only happen if you panic, the little monsters in front of you choose it or life dictates Murphy’s Law is due an appearance.  You are your class leader.  Dictate the pace, the content and the smiles.  Speak in a natural way, slow but clear and fill your words with feeling.  Acting like the latest version of Leslie Nielsen [if you’ve used Baidu to search for this, shame on you] is all part of the game.  Loosen the students up, make them aware that your class is about relaxing and stepping off the plateau of norm on to the steppes of an atypical day out.  Your class is an enjoyable escapology act and you are the next provider of mystery and queries.

 

  1. You’re having a laugh. Share it.

We all switch off 15 minutes into any presentation, apparently (source unknown, I switched off before that was presented).  Some things demand light-hearted jolliness, other things need a belly laugh or two.  English is a fantastic language and versatile as a cockroach in a kebab shop.  It can bend, it can twist and it will find some meaty content to live on.  I find students will engage you more if you’re more Patch Adams than Louis Pasteur.  Often students here sit through strict, highly rigid and lifeless mathematics or history classes.  Making a connection to the students is key, whether it is straight-faced or outright gurning.  The level of humour obviously mustn’t disturb neighbouring classes.  That said, if the neighbouring classes hear the odd chuckle, they’ll look forward to your classes…

 

  1. Game on.

Structure in a lesson is important.  Tricking students into learning by thinking they’re playing games is far more important.  From the off I tend to award points for simple tasks, like remembering my ever evolving class rules to simply giving a good example of oral English.  A warm-up game between two to four small or large groups can dictate reward points from the off.  Every now and then an actual reward, be that of the sweet kind or the stationery kind enters the classroom.  The students sit up straight, are on their proverbial collective toes and knuckle down.  Routine, expectation and a hunger to win can seriously gear up your classrooms.  I often find there is always a brainy team or each group has stand out students.  But beware.  Beware imbalanced point awarding.  Take control and steer the results in a way organisations connected with a major World Cup would take pride in.  I recommend a visiting game shops, using online resources (www.tes.co.uk; http://www.eslprintables.com/; or sites like http://learnenglishkids.britishcouncil.org/en), popping into Decathlon for softer versions of the dartboard or researching old playground favourites.  Get on it.  I have and I will never turn back.

 

  1. Realia Manchester.

Realia, is a funky latin word, for meaning real stuff.  Real stuff has several benefits.  The blackboard/chalk board/white board/projector screen can scatter.  It can properly do one, out of the room, no longer needed, make them as redundant as tone washers on the Great Wall.   The realm of authentic artefacts begins.  Be the subject winter, bring a scarf, hat and gloves.  Be it holidays, produce postcards, a backpack and some holiday snaps.  A bag is always a great way to smuggle items into class.  Place it on a raised chair, upfront and central to invoke the curiosity of your audience.  So far, my most praised classes by observing teachers have involved a Powerpoint [other methods are available] presentation entirely stocked with photographs.  Alongside this has been a carrier bag, costumes, and special effects.  Are you a budding George Lucas?  I hear you say.  No, I reply.  The classroom can be pre-prepared to have areas of interaction, props and posters or maps.  Why not go orienteering indoors?  Remember everything is possible.

 

这是所有乡亲/ Zhè shì suǒyǒu xiāngqīn (That’s all folks).

{check the above again and again}

J4: North Trafford to Aberystwyth

College began.  North Trafford College was not like school.  I had friends, of genuine qualities.  These friends would not think of me as someone lower than them.  I was an equal.  I was to enjoy great friendships with Alexis, Becci, Gemma, Danny, Serena, Jill and Darran over the coming years.  Outside of college I had my friendships with Dan and Rob.  Life seemed to be shaping up well.

Mum brought me City’s new laser blue strip for my 17th birthday, and I enjoyed a night out at Laser Quest with Dan and Rob.  I was really enjoying life.

On the 17th of November 1999 my best friend Pup died.  He had been around me for 17 years of my life.  Whenever I needed to hug, he was there.  He would always listen, and he would never judge me.  He was always there for me.  The news was heart-breaking.  I was in shock.  The Kangaroo-like, bounding, mongrel had finally passed away.  His back legs had failed him one day, and the Eccles RSPCA vets (where Rolf Harris was starring in Animal Hospital) had decided the humane thing would be to put him to sleep.  No longer would his floppy-great ears, his clumsy wagging tail, his facial glow, and his super temperament grace my presence.

I ran to my room, a tear shed for every fond memory of Pup.  So many memories of him licking me, chasing after me, fetching branches and sticks that I had thrown for him, playing outside together, and Pup sat on my lap in Dad’s car on long journeys.   Pup will never be forgotten.  He touched so many around Newton Heath and my family.  I even saved him from a fast-flowing stream in Clayton Vale one Saturday afternoon.  Pup was fearless, and so gentle.  You cannot compare him to any dog alive, or that has lived, but if you did then he would rank up there with the Red Dog of the Australian outback.

At college following a Christmas drunken kiss with Becci, things went rather unusual.  Becci was my college tutor, Elaine Lamb’s daughter.  This could have become rather complicated, but after the drunken kiss we both knew to go any further would be bad, especially seeing as Becci had a boyfriend.

The over-hyped Millennium eve came, and went.  In January 2000, I started a two day work placement at Blackpool Zoo.  This would happen every Thursday and Friday eventually curtailed by March’s foot and mouth crisis.  Soon I left my part time job at Co-op to work for Glynwebb DIY store (convenient alongside footballing commitments).

A new child was born into the Acton family in 2000.  Christina Acton was named after my late Nana.  Christina was born on Valentine’s Day, February the 14th 2000.  I now had two sisters.  Christina was born to my Dad’s partner Bernadette McWilliams from Greenock Morton.

Whilst at Blackpool Zoo however I met Caroline Wadsworth, during March 2000.  I travelled to Scarborough for a night out in her hometown.  Caroline was a Restaurant manager at a local hotel.  We met at the station, and went for a drink at a Wetherspoon’s bar.  We walked back to her flat.  We discussed our planned night out.  I would sleep on her sofa when we returned.  Caroline was five foot two tall, long black hair, round, slim build, and aged 28.  I was only 18.  That night we visited a few bars, and a club.  By midnight Caroline was extremely drunk.  We boarded a taxi and went back to hers.  On arrival I put her to bed, removing her leather jacket and covering her up with her duvet.  I could see no spare blankets.  I went to her lounge, and curled up on the sofa, draping my jacket over me.  I fell asleep. I was quite cold.

I made the text below smaller and lighter because I have been a tad graphic. But, flip it. I am not hiding anything. It has to be written.

That morning I was awoken by Caroline.  She lifted my jacket off me, took my hand and said I should have curled up with her.  She led me to her room and lay down in bed, pulling me up alongside her.  She thanked me for not taking advantage of her.  She undressed me down to my boxer shorts, and then undressed and placed a long t-shirt on.  A lengthy kiss followed.  I could feel my boxer shorts being removed.  She grasped my penis, and pulled it back and forward.  I decided to explore her with my hands, softly and carefully.  Within minutes she spoke, “Make love to me.” 
Being a virgin I panicked a little.  Once the trusted condom was on, my penis slid easily into her wetness.  I was inside her.  I could feel so much, tight around me.  She moaned and grasped my hair as I found myself going deeper and harder into her.  Her breasts were bright red with sweat.  She pushed me out of her.  Had I done something wrong?  She put me on my back, and then climbed onto me.  I slid right into her with ease.  She bounced so hard, moaning more and more each time, her breasts bouncing up and down.  She screamed and started to shudder, as I released myself.  I had lost my virginity and cum at the same time she had reached orgasm [I didn’t think that was even possible].  That day I had my breakfast.  Not long after she had elevenses.  In fact she made sure I had lunch, snacks, tea and supper for the two nights I stayed.  My penis was sore with overuse.  It had never been used before this trip to Scarborough!  The sex was amazing, and varied.  She performed oral sex, shown me many ways to make her orgasm, but I was beginning to feel used. 
The next weekend I visited again, all we did was to stay in and had sex.  We never chatted on the phone before my visit, I felt used.  It may seem like a typical blokes dream to be used, but I wanted more emotion.  I’m not just an object and detest being used as one.  She had achieved what she wanted, and boosted the local pharmacy sales of condoms but I wanted more. 

My final work placement for college was at Clayton’s Millstream Animal Sanctuary in 2001.  Here I assisted with cleaning kennels, and catteries.  I would also assist with feeding General the horse, and several goats.  I was also lucky to assist tame an extremely aggressive black rabbit.  The male rabbit had a small white patch under its neck.  It apparently was vicious to people, and had a history of biting people.  I lifted it straight up, sat it on my knee, as I sat on the floor inside the main building.  Bugsy as I affectionately called him responded well.  It never kicked out at me, or bit me once in the few months I was there.  Bugsy eventually responded well to other humans and found a home.  2000 being the year Dad had a second child with his partner Bernadette.  Shaun Paul Acton was born on the 28th of March.  I now had three brothers.

Back at Millstream, a cat named Aurora, a beautiful tortoiseshell cat, had to be kept close to the veterinary room.  Aurora suffered from a liver disease and needed regular medicine doses.  Her history was from a background of being mistreated.  She was not an ideal cat for homing, because she was so aggressive to human contact.  Within days of working up her trust, she clambered from her pen, and walked over my shoulders.  She rubbed my head with her body.  She would not allow me to touch her by hand.  This usually responded with a prompt scratch to my arm or head.  Aurora took weeks to allow me to pick her up, and stroke.  She was a beautiful cat, and I would have loved to given her a home.  Mum would not allow another cat because we already had Tigger and Sparky (Tigger’s mother).  I also had Sarah my tarantula (named after a girl I had a crush on, even if she was out of my league); Gizmo and Stripe my Russian Hamsters (who would often try to kill one another, thus resulting in me pulling them apart).  Gizmo and Stripe were adopted from an animal sanctuary.

After completing work placements at Heaton Park with college, Holland’s Exotic Pets in the Coliseum, Manchester Pets and Aquatics, and Blackpool Zoo I felt ready to take on a career.  I decided to apply for the Fire and Rescue Service.  The last few weeks of college loomed and Gemma hosted a sleepover at her house in Sale.  Becci, Danny, Alexis, Darran and I stayed.  We watched Lake Placid (Crap film) and numerous other films and gabbed whilst eating and drinking in Gem’s lounge.  Later on Gemma went upstairs to bed, Alexis fell asleep, Danny and Darran fell asleep minutes later.  I curled up in my blanket.  Becci lay behind me.  Becci kissed me.  I kissed her back.  My hands strayed, beneath her blanket, and below her jeans.  Becci was very quiet for the first five minutes.  All of a sudden she screamed and the others awoke.  She told them she had had a nightmare.  The flustered bright red face clearly lying but that beat admitting to what was really going on.  She lay back down, turned away and fell asleep.  Becci was always the selfish member of the group, insecure, and confident she could win any man’s heart over.  She would never win my heart. I am glad to have heard since then that she has grown up well.

In May I had my mobile stolen; in July I’d seen the band Wheatus again with Danny; and at this stage I had been forced to make career choices.  After passing several fire-fighters exams and tests I had a contract arrive in the post from Greater Manchester Fire Services.   On the same day I received an offer for a place in Aberystwyth University.  I had to decide between university and a career.  The decision was not easy but a few years at University would not prevent me reapplying for the Fire and Rescue Service.

During August I also returned to Barmouth for a holiday with Mum, Paul, Paul junior, and Astrid.  We stayed in Tudor House holiday flat overlooking the harbour.

On the 22nd of September 2001, 11 days after the atrocious attacks by terrorists on the U.S.A., I had departed for Aberystwyth.  Manchester City F.C. had beaten Sheffield Wednesday 6-2 at Hillsborough under the helm of Kevin Keegan. Dad’s packed Citroen headed east, packed full to the rim. Having been lost in Shrewsbury (possibly the only town populated by more roundabouts than people), we set across Eastern Wales and its many shades of grey clouds.  Many urination stops later in several bleak farm tractor entrances, and we arrived in Aberystwyth.  I and Dad unpacked all my gear into Cwrt Mawr Block B, room 15 – my home to be for an entire academic year.

Post-unpacking my Dad took me to Cwrt Mawr bar located next door to Block B.  Dad brought me my first pint in Aberystwyth.  Guinness, naturally, and served by a rather busty bar lady.  Talent spotting looked to be a good idea in this town.  Time was soon called, and we returned to my room.  Dad kipped on my bed, and I curled up under a blanket on the rock cold tiled floor.  Ah, luxury!

For Sunday morning we searched for a café or breakfast bar in the town at the foot of Penglais hill, no such luck.  We made do with Spar’s finest sausage roll and breakfast barm.  No sarcasm intended.  Dad drove me back to my highly institutional-influenced room, before he headed off for Manchester.

As I slowly unpacked, my new flatmates passed by my room.  Feelings came over me, pure shyness and unsure whether my flatmates would take to me.  I was feeling alone.  The day seemed to last forever, as I customised my imperial-institutional cell.  I fell asleep, tired and alone, wanting to escape, far from home.  Tears ran from my eyes.

The first Monday of the University term brought brighter light.  I met Mike, a fellow resident of Institution Block B, or Cwrt Mawr (if you like a more romantic tone).  We went to the students union and entered a Headways Group treasure hunt.  We started late on, overtook many teams, and still managed to finish first.  The secret clues were difficult, but we made it through to the Outback bar on the Llanbadarn campus.  I could see Mike doubted my navigational skills, but he could tell I doubted his knowledge of biology as we discussed our similar study schemes.  At the Outback, a free barbeque was provided, and we also won a £5 student union shop voucher.  This sweetened the burning sensation on my aching feet.

Many hours later I had returned to my room.  My head plummeted into my pillow.  I slept like I had not slept for a long, long, long time.  My day’s explorations with Mike, the square headed, spectacle-wearing Midlander had been fun.  To imagine what Mike looks like, simply watch the film Ghostbusters and look at Egon Spengler.  Mike was however around five-foot ten.

A night passed before Mike had arranged for a night out with several girls from Cwrt Mawr Block A (the other block next door).  Our other flatmates Dan, and Yaz joined us for a few drinks at The Glengower on Aber’s North seafront.  The girls from next door were Jen (a Southerner), Jenny (an American International Politics student), Lynette (a Brummie) and her room mate Kim (also a Brummie).  I wasn’t really interested in any of the girls (even if the theme night was Pimps and Whores night).  Naturally I wore my favourite purple shiny-top and silver dragon trousers.

The next day I met Kez (Environmental Scientist) and Mel (Drama student!), two more flatmates.  There was also Victor (computer scientist) and Lorenzo (an Italian International Politics PHD student).  That morning Mike and myself went to Block A to meet Kim and Jenny.  Lynette had been feeling unwell, and wanted to return to the Midlands and her parents’ house.  By the end of the day Kim’s double room was more spacious, as Lynette headed home from the University for the first and final time that year.  Really, I think Dan scared her off the night before at The Glengower.

Pretty soon lectures had began, and before long I and Kim were seeing each other.  Before long October popped up. POP!  On return to Manchester, I and Rob met up to watch Scary Movie 2 at the cinema.  At this stage I realised that most of my friends had moved on, William was in New Zealand, Dan was in the army with the Scots Dragoon Guards, Becci at Leeds University, and Alexis at Chester College.  It was a pleasant return to Manchester, and easy to get news.  I bloody well didn’t get much news in Ceredigion!  I rarely watched television.  I had to go on the net to discover most things or return home to watch the football (by football I mean the great Manchester City F.C.) My Manchester City FC were doing excellent and well on course to a return to the top flight where I was sure they would stay up this time.  At the time City were the best goal scorers in the U.K. football leagues too!  There was ONLY one pub in Aber which screened ITV Sports!  The Mill public house was tiny and packed solid if any game was on. 

By the end of the month, as is a tradition on my birthday I had added another year to my age.  I thought celebrating my birthday away from home would be awful as I turned 19.  Mel and Kez treated me to Profitero’s and presents.  That was very kind of them.  I was not used to surprises, so it was different and thoroughly enjoyable.  Kim returned from the Midlands with a cuddly Tigger and some chocolates.  Yummy.

During the month of October I also became involved with Aberystwyth Town F.C., a team from the then League of Wales (now Welsh Premier).

Everything seems to take 15 minutes:  getting ready to go out, cycling to work, an evening jog, having a quickie etc.  Yet getting to lectures from Block B took at the most 5 minutes.  This was convenient and had no excuse to be late.  The first year of University life wasn’t so academically productive.  I fucked up big time.  I did however enjoy University life, football, and the region so much that I would retake my year.  If I was to relive life in Cwrt Mawr Block B, there would be some brilliant or strange memories.

For a start my room was right by the kitchen, so every Tom, Dick and Harry who fancied a late night snack would likely disturb me.  We did not have a Tom, Dick or Harry living in our flat as I am aware.  Worse still, the toilet was located adjacent to my room.  An ancient proverb, probably would go as “he who sleeps lightly, be disturbed by the loo flushing.”

Our estranged flatmate Victor was proving to be rather unusual.  Several knocks on my door at 7a.m. revealed why.  Victor was revealed to be a campus stalker, who was eventually expelled from University.  This wasn’t the only trouble in Cwrt Mawr, bats in my wardrobe, and the Police calling at all hours, and this e-mail from a warden says it all: 


The University has a very strict Rule that forbids the possession of any form of weapon on its premises and grounds. Of course, this includes any form of gun or imitation weapon. Yet, I have been handed and have confiscated 3 “pistols” this term already! At least one is a BB-gun that potentially is very dangerous.  These disregards of a University Rule came to a head in the early hours of Friday, 1st February, when a student in a balaclava brandished a “gun” at another student “as a drunken lark”!
The man was arrested and may be prosecuted! Even if not, he will be subject to University discipline; as will any others caught in possession of a weapon! BE WARNED: Anyone in possession of weapon must dispose of it immediately or face the certainty of at least University discipline if caught!
Dr.R.B.Kemp, Warden.


Around Christmas time our flat shared a Christmas dinner.  Kez, Mel and Mike cooked, whilst muggings here had to wash up with Kim and Yaz.  That night I and Kim set a cuddly-musical toy, namely Frosty the Snowman, off outside Kez’s room, much to our amusement and Kez’s dismay.  Practical jokes dried up soon after Christmas.  There was only so much blown-dry cling film under toilet seats, washing up liquid down toilets, and booby traps that could be taken in one semester at University.

At the time, my attitude to life had changed, and I settled into the University life with ease.  I tell you what when I left University it was a shock to the system.  I had to get up at 6am, rather than go to sleep then.  Having sex in a single bed was absurd.  There was more food than beer in my fridge.  My fantasies of having sex with three women with lesbian tendencies was soon replaced by fantasies of having sex with anyone at all.  I no longer sought to volunteer for clinical trials at the local hospital.  I then knew all of the people sleeping in my house.  The bank manager didn’t be threaten as in previous years.  My friends soon would marry and divorce instead of getting together and breaking-up.  I went from 130 days of holidays to around 20.  Jeans and a jumpers no longer qualified as ‘dressed up’.  I didn’t spend half my day strategically planning pub crawls.  I even joined the campaign to “hate scrounging students”.  I no longer had a strange attraction to road signs when I was under the influence of alcohol. I no longer took naps from noon to 6 p.m.  A £3 bottle of wine was no longer ‘pretty good stuff’.  I remembered the name of the person I’ll wake up next to.  I actually ate breakfast foods at breakfast time.  Either Way University was easier to understand than most things – okay the work was extremely hard and often led to bouts of depression, and insomnia.  It is not as cheap as I thought it would be, survival of the fittest, or Darwinian Theory is thrown full blown into contention. Not that any of this paragraph is accurate. University was different to life afterwards.

My second semester lectures started in early February and already the lectures were engaged on revision and exams.  I tried my hardest but felt a little unconfident the moment any chemistry or mathematics was thrown at me.  It was not easy being a John, but someone had to do it.  I had already signed up with 5 friends (Mike, Kez, Mel, Yaz, and my new friend Tom) for a building in the next year in town (on Baker Street), it worked out about 15% more expensive (plus electricity bills) than my first University accommodation, but second year students did not get any priority in accommodation next year.  The Baker Street maisonette was located in farting-distance of the station, town, and seafront.  It was, however, a mile from my lecture rooms on the Penglais campus.  This University has the fittest University students in the U.K.  No surprises!  It also boasted one of the U.K.’s highest suicidal rates, not really that nice a prospect.  For the second semester I had more practical work scheduled, more hours of learning (about 24 in 5 days ) and several trips to Borth Animalarium (8 miles North).

One Wednesday in February I had a football match at 2.30pm (at Blaendolau) which I seemed to dread for the fact that the team I played for (Officers’ Training Corp FC) appeared to be the most unorganised club ever.  They were 12-0 down when I came on for the second half against Gents’ Society UWA FC, we lost 12-1!  It was awful.  However, when it came to playing for University teams over the years I’d find more disorganized units as time flew by.  However the next match we won 4-0 in the league against the Beerkeepers’ FC.  I got 90 minutes to run around and chase the ball.  We played a friendly against the American Welsh FC and we were winning 5-0 when I was badly tackled.  The two players sandwiched me as I ran though on goal.  The ball left my feet and hit the net, I was crushed.  I had a bruised rib, dislocated knee, and several bruises.  They both received straight reds, we won 10-0.  I never got to play in the league or cup matches until just before Christmas where I made a start.  My knee was still troubling me a little, but seeing as only 11 people turned up, I had to fill in at Left-back position…. Well for 15 minutes until my legs were taken.  The player was only yellow carded.  I hopped around for the remainder of the game, made the odd challenge, no subs were available so I did my best – we lost 6-1 against a side we beat 4-0 (Beerkeepers’ FC).  Luckily it was only a cup game.  I managed another few games that season for the Officers’ Training Corp F.C. as we progressed to the quarter final of the Dig’s League.

Me, Mike and many other students regularly went down to Park Avenue and watch our adopted local football side Aberystwyth Town F.C. in the League of Wales; it was fun and Rhodri Giggs (brother of Ryan Giggs) played for them, and he was surprisingly good.  It was a youthful side, some old City players have been here with other League of Wales squads and Malcolm Allen played there too!  This seemed pretty amazing for a club I had never heard of, let alone seen until I came to Aberystwyth.  Aberystwyth finished 9th in season 2001/02 having beaten Connah’s Quay on the final day of the season.  Connah’s Quay had a postponed game the week later to move above Aberystwyth Town and qualify for the Football Association of Wales Premier Cup. Aberystwyth Town didn’t, but they put on a good end of season.

The Aberystwyth Arts Centre had an excellent exhibition programme and was one of the few venues in Wales acknowledged by the Arts Council as a Centre of Excellence.  It also offered you an excellent programme of exhibitions and many courses in art, drama, dance and music.  But for those who enjoy the outdoors, a bracing breeze and horizontal rain, with a football between your feet naturally.

The University playing fields represent the jewel in the crown of U.W.A.’s sporting facilities and are located on two sites.  The nationally renowned Vicarage Playing Fields, some 16 acres, are home to the U.W.A’s. first football, rugby, tennis and cricket teams.  The immaculately maintained facilities are the flagship of excellence and have been the envy of visiting teams for years, plus they were bloody good to score upon. Such was the quality, that the University was able to attract prestigious external user groups such as the Ian Rush Soccer Tournament, and even professional football teams.  The other, and larger, site is at Blaendolau where equally impressive pitches occupy some 34 acres.  Here, in addition to the many UWA team fixtures, was the venue for the Digs’ League football.  A further asset of both sites is their close proximity to the main campus, the town and student accommodation, thus making for easy accessibility.  Also, many goals were to be scored on this field.

Kim finally visited Manchester in May 2002, and we went to watch ET re-released at the cinema, and Kim met some of my family.  I had shown her the local Highfield Country Park, where somehow I managed to get splinters in my bottom-cheeks.

There was one particular walk which began like any other ordinary walk during May 2003.  Kez, Kim, Alana, Mike, and I were all walking along the south beach of Aberystwyth.  At the time I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts.  The sun was beating down keeping me very warm.  I had my sunglasses around my neck and a baseball cap on.  Tethered around my back was a small bag with a juice bottle, my mobile phone and other small keep-sakes in it.  Mike and I decided to speed up a little and explore this newly acquainted area.  We then went around the most southern point of the cove.  There before us lay rocks and crags at the foot of tall cliffs.  The cliffs looked strong.  Mike and I looked around the rocks finding the lower left mandible of a sheep and a few strange shells.  I then started to ascend my way up a sloping cliff (elevated around a 150-degree drop).  The bottom ten metres proved to be easy to climb.  The mid-section was not as easy but at the same time not too difficult.  I reached a point about five metres from the summit of the cliff face.  The ledge I was stood on became un-easy as if ready to collapse.  I turned around ready to descend slowly to the foot of the cliff.  The ledge collapsed.  Rocks tumbled beneath me.  The rocks bounced off crags in the cliffs, spiralling into the air dramatically before impacting the pebbles and crags below.  There and then I felt I could get myself back to safety.  I gasped hold of the protruding rocks to my right (southerly direction).  They crumbled.  The sea below hitting the pebble beach viciously became drowned out.  Panic had hit me.  To my left (just north) I could see Kim, Kez, Mike and Alana chatting and relaxing on flat area of rocks at the base of the cliffs.  The loneliness set in.  I thought fast what I should do next.  I waved with both hands as if needing help.  No response from the happy people below.  I signalled with nine fingers flashing them repeatedly.  Still there was no response.  I then took the extreme of launching my bag high into the sky and letting it drop half-way up the cliff.

Now they noticed me!  Then I realised that I had thrown my phone downwards inside the bag.  Luckily, Mike clambered up the cliff within four metres of me.  I could smell his aftershave.  I told him about the situation I was in.  A messy situation I was in.  He tried to tell me his situation but I exaggerated the situation I was in.  He phoned the emergency services.  As he was phoning my right foot slipped from beneath me.  The ledge had crumbled further.  I had only one place to put my left foot and use my right hand now to prop me up.  Below me loomed a fateful place to land.   I could do nothing but hold on.  Keep holding on.  Nothing else could be done, I had to hold on.  Mike chatted to me (upwind) although little of what he said registered.  My right arm was numb.  It had to support over ninety kilograms.  My left leg seemed to be slipping continually.

I constantly had to find a new footing.  Slate and stones were crumbling around me.  Rocks were tumbling down below.  I tried not to watch them.  Mike told me how the emergency services were on the way.  Kez, Kim, and Alana were sat there on the smooth rocks safely.  Even as I held onto my life I had to direct somebody to stand on the road around the side of the cliffs to wave down the emergency services.  Looking at my watch it was 1700.  I had been there around 15 minutes already.   Mike laughed, “at least it’s sunny!”  Then I looked out to see.  The sunlight became covered by clouds.  Briefly a beam of light shone through.  I pictured it as a stairway to heaven.  It felt so surreal.  I imagined a voice beckon aloud, “this way John”.  Then I imagined the Earth below tear apart to the sound of Take That singing “Relight My Fire”.  Should I choose Heaven or hell?  I’ll choose… life!  It was becoming cold; I shivered, petrified of the fall below, nervous twitches rocked my left leg repeatedly.  The leg I needed to hold myself up was numb and shivering rapidly.  It slipped off several times.  Only my quick instinct recaptured my stance of security on the cliff.

The emergency services came at 1740.  A police car led three fire engines, an ambulance (to reassure me – they told me it was a precaution), and a mountain rescue jeep.  The sound of sirens will always remind me how warm I felt as they came down the seaside road.  Within minutes, two firemen were below to my right unable to reach me.  One was above (also, unable to reach me).  The Mountain rescue team had set their winching equipment up and an abseiling man descended downwards to me.  He stood in front of me.  They than fastened a belt around me.  He hooked the belt onto the abseil line.  We both slowly walked upwards with my legs spread apart painfully to balance the weight.  I looked down at my extremely pale legs, cold.  It was very cold.  A few scratches displayed blue tints around them.  My skin was icy.  At last I reached the summit.  It was better late than never.

An RAF Air Sea Rescue Sea King thundered around above me and the rescue workers.  The noise drowned out the sea below.  Air thumped downwards causing me to collapse.  A paramedic greeted me.  He wrapped shiny tinfoil over me. The down-thrust from the helicopter above unwrapped the shiny tinfoil.  The helicopter moved into position.  A winch man manoeuvred downwards.  He hooked the paramedic onto the winch and sent him up alone first.  The winch man comforted me as we waited.  Then the winch came down empty.  He hooked himself on.  He strapped me in with two harnesses.  I loosely lay (almost floppy) as we winched up slowly.  A down thrust of air hit us, the cable span around causing me to hit my head on the helicopter.  My mouth caught on the winch man’s jacket.  Blood ran out of my mouth as I pulled forwards to avoid further injury.  They placed my on a seat in the helicopter and we thundered off to Blaendolau fields where we touched down.  They carried me to the ambulance and placed me on a stretcher.  The ambulance raced off to the hospital.  I was in a hypothermic state and tachycardia.  I had a sore head but nothing too serious.  By 1920 hours I was in hospital and being warmed up.  I was lucky.  I owe my life to my friends, the fire brigade, the RAF helicopter rescue service (coastguard), the paramedics, and the mountain rescue teams.

The 6th of June was the date that everyone looked forward to at the Student Union.  Wheatus’ tour passed the seaside town, my Wheatus album overplayed, and the atmosphere heated up.  Me, Kim, Kez and Mel were first in the queue, and the over-enthusiastic I was right at the front.  The band did not disappoint.  The disappointment came when Kez, Kim and Mel left straight after the concert.  I wasn’t confident enough to stick around asking for autographs on my own!  At times like these I wanted to escape University and join the Amy.  That was not a spelling mistake; just I’d rather have met an Amy than been with Kim.

In summer, I wanted to return home.  Home is where the heart is, and at that time my heart must have been in Sesame Street.  And then, when I did return home, I ended up returning back to Aberystwyth for the summer period. In June 2002 Mike, Yaz, Kez, Mel, Tom and I moved into a new maisonette on Baker Street.  This would be our accommodation for 2002/2003 during term.  Mike immediately started work in Clarach alongside me.  His irritating jokes, easily wound up and over competitiveness got too me.  I left work within days.

I started a job at Spar on Terrace Road, and Mike would eventually leave the Showboat in Clarach opting for work at Caffi Morgan in town.  My friend Em visited from Oldham in summer, she left having been freaked out by Mike.  She told me how he tried it on with her after she had left Aber.  This surprised me, knowing Mike and Alana had been going out for a few months.  September soon arrived, and Mike set about making me feel small.  Our new flat mate Tom steered clear of Mike.  I tried my best to avoid competition with Mike, but he insisted on reminding me how I had failed my first year and he was now a successful second year.  He was in charge of the Biological Society and was even a player for the new UWA Greens F.C.(which I had invited him to play for us).

Tom and I became good friends, and we often walked to Clarach on our free afternoons.  Tom was originally from southern England but had been living in Newport (West Wales) with his mum.  Tom studied Computer Science, enjoyed movies, liked to talk, and was ambitious.  He was also a good person to have around in order to build my confidence up.  Tom was planning on moving to Canada once he left university in 2004.

As a flat we had our Christmas lunch together.  Kim and Alana were both invited.  I was called immature by Mel for wearing my Christmas Hat on my ear.  I was pretty much told to grow up.  For some unknown reason the entire flat was turning against me.  I would walk into the lounge and a conversation descended into silence.  An argument with Mel, about a CD that had gone missing (and I said Mike had it) resulted in Mel telling me to drop my grudges against Mike, and grow up.  I said some pretty harsh words at her.  We both slammed doors, I smashed a glass.  Later Mike returned the CD to Mel.  The grudge was now in full flow.  The grudge was against Kez, Mel and Mike.

In January 2003 when there was only me and Mike at the house we cycled to Devil’s Bridge.  This took our mind off revision and allowed us to keep our friendship intact as there were many heated moments prior to this.

In May 2003 I went to the May Ball.  It was supposed to be just me and Kim, but Kez, and Mel joined us for most of the night.  Mike shown off on the bungee jump, and anywhere he could when he was with Alana or any of the girls.  The only thing I enjoyed was seeing the Blues Brothers Tribute Band, and Kim did not seem too keen.  I was made to follow her around all evening.  Kim and I were hitting rocky waters.  I was tired of being ignored when she came round, and tired of having to go to Kim’s for quality time together.  At Kim’s house on Prospect Street she would go off to talk to Jenny and leave me alone in the room.  I felt ignored.

I turned to football and watching DVDs with Tom.  At which stage Kim accused me of not wanting to spend time with her.  I wanted to escape the relationship.  I would not however as her best mates Mike, Kez, and Mel lived in my flat.  I did not want a potential split to cause repercussions in the flat – it was difficult enough already!

Kim told me how Mike, Kez, Alana, and Yaz were going to share 2 Pentre Jane Morgan together for their final year.  I was invited but did not want to join the others.  They had not liked me turning down their offer, over the fact I wanted to meet new friends being a year behind them.

For summer I went home to work, and relax.  I hoped the break apart would do me and Kim good.  It seemed to work.  We met up to go to Birmingham’s Sea Life Centre and Chester Zoo whilst taking it easy.  Kim even came to Llandudno with me for a pre-season friendly.  We stayed in a hotel, had a meal and went up the Great Orme.

Kim invited me to her cousin Emma’s wedding in Preston.  A wedding should bring people closer but it only made me feel more distant.  We arranged to go to Cardiff to see Manchester City play TNS in a UEFA Cup game next.  We stayed by the university and watched the football.  Kim finally met my brother Ace and my Dad.  She was very shy acting.  I could not work out why.  Kim had nothing to be shy about usually.

The end of September arrived and I moved from Manchester to Aber once again.  This time I was going to return to university halls.  I was to move into Ty Caron, room 3, flat 1.  I met Jon Hughes and Simon who lived in the room opposite my own.  Gemma and Rachael lived behind the door to my right.  Vicky and Sarah lived in the room to my left, by the bathroom and opposite the kitchen.

Jon Hughes was originally born in Northern Ireland in 1984.  Jon Hughes, nicknamed Buzza had lived in Liverpool from an early age.  Naturally he had no connection with Manchester.  Like many others in the World who are not connected with Manchester, he supports Manchester United.  Buzza was a student of English.  Jon shared his room with Simon, and International Politics post-graduate student.  Simon was from Poland, and interesting to talk to about world affairs.

As part of my 21st birthday present Kim brought me tickets for Dave Gorman’s Googlewhack Adventure show (at the Aber Arts Centre on December the 7th).  Kim did not come out for my 21st as she was ill.  I started my celebrations at noon in Yr Hen Gorsaf (the Wetherspoon’s in Aber).  Steve Lynno, Tom Foster, the twins and Stew Spink departed with me for Caersws.  In Caersws we started at The Red Lion public house.  We were met by Matt Hemsley, Sonny and Cher (real names unknown), Matt Cooling, Mark Cornock, Nige Carr Evans, Mike Watts, and many others.  I did not need to buy a drink that night!  Everybody seemed to buy me a drink.  We then staggered to watch Aberystwyth lose 3-1 to Caersws in a FAW Premier Cup game.  After the game we went to the Caersws F.C. Social Club, and departed by train to Aber. We spent a few hours in The Bay, where Claire Robbins joined up with us.  Afterwards we went back to Claire’s house to indulge into American Pie 2 and a few drinks.

I spent my third New Year with Kim after Christmas 2003.  This one was not as fun.  We did not really do much.  This boat was certainly going to hit the rocks soon.

By February and as a means of escapism I and my friend Matt Cooling decided to go for a day out up the Cambrian coast.  We visited Llanaber, Barmouth, and Harlech.

A small group of Behaviour Biology students was invited to Chester Zoo for a conference on Environmental Enrichment in mid-January 2004.  This was an ideal day out, and also a good way of reducing the travel time spent alone from Manchester.

Dad, Ace, and I watched and FA Cup game, in which City drew one apiece with Tottenham Hotspurs in late January.  City had already beaten Leicester City in the FA Cup.  The replay was screened live on Sky Sports in the Snooker Club.  Nige (City season ticket holder and university porter), Wattsy (season ticket holder at City, and a university porter), Tom (from my flat in second year), and Adriano (co-owner of Evola hairdressers in Aber, and a keen City fan) watched the replay in which City was three nil down at half time.  Joey Barton had been sent off.  City came out in the second half scoring through Distin, Bosvelt and Wright-Phillips.  City’s keeper Arni Arason (the Icelandic number one) made some superb saves to keep City in with a slim chance of reaching extra time and penalties.  Jon Macken produced a fourth goal in the dying minutes sending City through to a FA Cup at Old Trafford.  The game versus Spurs was amazing, and they did eventually bring a DVD out!

On the day of February the 18th 2004, Wales beat Scotland 4-0.  I went to Cardiff with Sidelights (who does know where the accelerator is).  We watched Wales and then returned to Aber.  Kim had a go at me for preferring football to a Valentine’s meal.  I tried explaining why I do not celebrate Valentine’s Day.  Valentine’s Day gives a neglectful or aggressive husband or boyfriend the opportunity to be romantic by sending a commercialised card or gift to a supposed love one.  That idea to me does not suggest romance or love.  I secretly did not want Kim to think I loved her, in case she loved me.  We were going to split up, but not whilst she was deep into her year three project work.  She did not have time to talk to me, so I was stubborn and would wait until after her work was handed in.

On the 26th I waited for Kim to come and join me at the Football Club.  There was snow knee deep, but Kim decided she would rather sledge with Mike and Alana than see me.  This created major tension. Kim handed her Dissertation work in on the 12th of March.  We split up on the 13th of March.  On the 14th of March Bangor City beat Aberystwyth 2-1 at Park Avenue Stadium.  I had found Kim’s presents for her birthday (31st of March) in my cupboard.

I decided to pass these onto Kim the day after I went to Manchester to City win 4-1 in the home derby game.  Manchester United was turned over thanks to goals from Fowler, Macken, Sinclair and Wright-Phillips.  I was sat two rows from the goal-end where Macken and Fowler had scored.  I was feet away from Macken when he celebrated his goal.  The 15th came and I met Kim on the seafront.  We walked towards the castle, I handed her the presents and some personal possessions.  Kim handed me a bag with a T-shirt and jacket I had left at hers.  We hugged and said goodbye.

Mike Bagnall came around the next night.  He was dressed up for a night out.  He asked if he could go in, I offered him a drink.  I looked outside the window to see Harry (Jenny’s boyfriend stood across the road).  I knew Mike was looking for trouble.  He wanted to know why I had split with Kim.  I said how it was not meant to be.  He started to get personal, saying how “I had to retake first year and had nothing but resentment for him.”  He even accused me of not having a best friend called Dan back home.  Because Dan worked for the Army and the Iraqi crisis was going on, Dan could not visit.  Mike told me I made him up, and he is just in my mind.  He asked to see a photograph of Dan.  I did not have one to hand.  I asked him if he was looking for a fight.  He said, “Yes, let’s go outside.”  I replied with, “If you want a fight, we will have one right here, and I guarantee you will not walk away.”  That reply must have scared him because he was quiet for a few moments.  He then said, “Right mate, I’m going to have to go, as I am going out tonight with friends.”  I liked the way he exaggerated the word friends, it reminded me how I had lots of friends from football, university lectures (e.g. Rob, and Susan), and home!  He offered to shake hands, but I would not.  He was no friend.  I showed him the door.  I had shown great resilience in my room, as he was probably the first person I have ever wanted to hit full force in the face, and then continue beating him to a pulp until he no longer made a sound.  The difference between me and him then was I’m capable yet restrained.  He was incapable yet a loose cannon, looking for a battle he could never have won.

Term passed quickly, lectures with my imaginary friends Laura Baker and Rob Palmer passed quickly.  On May the 22nd Aberystwyth Town Football Club held its annual club dinner awards night.  I received the David Pugh Sportsman of the Year and the Clubman of the year award alongside a Spar Mid Wales Winners cup.  I received these awards for helping the club progress in the previous season.  I had assisted with advertising, managing the Astroturf, helping with the matchday programme, and being available on matchdays etc.  The committee of Glan Davies, Rhun Owens, Jim Edwards, Ian Pugh “Sidelights”, Anne Jones, John Dunn, Alan Cookson, and company had voted for me to be Clubman of the year.

On the 2nd day of June 2004, a good friend, Chris Howells assisted me in moving into 48 Gerddi Rheidol.  Another good friend, Nige Carr Evans was renting a spare room out to me.  My final year in University was to be spent living across the river Rheidol in Trefechan.  48 Gerddi Rheidol housed a recently decorated kitchen, a luxurious lounge with two leather settees, a cool bathroom, and my room located facing North into the town.  The view was of many gardens from a nearby terraced housing street, with a brief glimpse of the Kiln Bridge (opening in 2004, and spanning the river Rheidol).  I returned to Manchester on the 3rd in order to spend a few days relaxing at home before my new job for the University Managed & Leased Properties services as a Porter.

On the 5th of June 2004, I was supposed to watching England F.C. face the Icelandic football association team at the City of Manchester Stadium.  England would win 6-1.  But due to a few drinks the night before with Pete, and his mates this never happened.  We started off rolling dice in the Goose on Piccadilly to decide which public houses we would visit next.  As we could not collectively decide which public house to go to as a group, we decided on six towns in close proximity.  Stockport, Bolton, Bury, Oldham, Blackburn and Blackpool were chosen.  After we had decided many hours later, I ended up rushing home to grab my rucksack.  I packed my clothes and things ready for my return to Aber on the 6th, as I had to start work on the 7th.

By 9pm, we were on a Virgin train heading due south for a village known as London.  We had planned to stay at Pete’s friends’ house that lived in Charlton.  By 11pm we were in a bar, and slightly tipsy (the crate of beer on the train journey not helping).  Midnight passed, and somehow I became separated from Pete and his mates.  My phone battery had died, and my rucksack had disappeared.  Somehow, I ended up lost, lonely, and with only the contents of my wallet to help me get out of this mess.  I was approached by a student called Susan, who studied Engineering at Uxbridge’s Brunel University.  She brought me a few drinks, and eventually asked me if I wanted to go back to hers for a drink (in the Nescafe sense or not, I pondered?).  We headed back to her lodgings at her university.  We seemed to talk the whole night away, and then gently fall asleep, Susan in her bed, and me on her sofa in her room.  It seemed she did not just want to jump on top of me, and given the state I was in, I did not blame her.

Also, I made the text below smaller and lighter because I have been a tad graphic, again. Like I said, flip it. I am not hiding anything. It has to be written.

The next morning I woke up, crept to her bathroom, and a quick wash, using her towel, and then squeezed some toothpaste into my mouth and swilled it round as intensely as possible.  This seemed to do the trick, it certainly felt fresh.  What about deodorant?  I looked over at her Sure fragrance free roll-on.  It did the job.  I moved stealthily back in to get dressed, and managed so successfully.  At that point her bedroom door opened and in walked Susan, already dressed.  It appeared she had already been up, dressed and been to have breakfast without me knowing.  At this stage I was fully dressed.  She came over and I said thanks, and we hugged.  Hugs led to kisses, kisses led to her feeling my back, my shirt came off, and we ended up naked.  She said she wanted me in her.  She grabbed me close; I pulled away, and said, “I’ll just get a condom from my wallet.”  I said this praying I had one there.  She said, “Don’t worry we don’t need it.”  I reached into my wallet anyway, and tore the condom wrapper open.  I placed it on, better safe than sorry.  The first time we were intimate was kind of rushed, and the second time we both reached orgasm at the same time, but the third time that night lasted hours (kind of burning) but we reached orgasm and managed to finish off the three condoms in my wallet.  That is why they come in packs of three I think.  I stayed that night, and Susan gave me a lift to Heathrow station the next morning, we waved goodbye, agreed it was just fun.  Eight hours later, and three changes I arrived in sunny Aberystwyth. 

On the 7th of June 2004 I started work for the University Managed and Leased Properties as a Porter.  A Porter is just a glorified cleaner.  The boss, a Bernie Virgin was a smarmy camp guy, obsessed with targets.  The targets were always met, but he would insist on going over the targets again even if they were perfectly clean rooms in the first place.  His number two henchman was Jane Morgan, mother of staff member Will.  Jane was equally as irritating as Bernie, but with the added attribute of treating each member of staff like a child.  This did not go down very well (not like a room full of ladies in a Mardi Gras special hotel).  Many rebellions were planned, very little action occurred.  Mike and Lynwen were related to senior management and could slack off as much as possible.  Ron, a very nice American (is that a contradiction?) left in mid-July as he set off on a round the World tour starting from Bristol at his girlfriend’s house, and taking in America and China.  He was the first to leave.  Will left without telling his Mum that he was moving to Ireland to live and work alongside his fiancé.  Will had footballing experience in Carmarthen, Haverfordwest and was a very skilful footballer, but his knee injury in 2003 cut his football ambitions short.  For some unknown reason his mum Jane, and the supervisors, be they Marina or Mrs Jones, seemed to think me and Will worked hard together.  I had been working alongside Kai (Chinese super-worker from Shanghai) for the first week, and we had done more than our quota.  The supervisors mixed me with Will next, and he taught me the key to skiving off from work.  We were supposed to clean the hallways of Aberglasney house, Plynlimon, etc. but we managed to sit on the stairs chatting all day.  One day we even managed to sneak onto the beach and watch the day go by.  Mike left next, after Will.  Jurah (a Kiwi, based in Gloucester) departed next as he wanted more time with his Taiwanese girlfriend for travelling.

Little Andy had worked there in the previous two summers, and had already learnt how to avoid work to a perfection from Will.  He was always twinned with big Andy “Dogs” who soon learnt where to skive, smoke as many roll-ups as possible, and relax away from the superior staff sights.  This was some comparison to doctorate student Julie and Lynwen who seemed to enjoy working hard all day without breaking, yet achieving the same results as the lazy many.  There was also Vicky and Lindsay, who worked slow but steadily as they were always victims of supervision.

Ouday was also working in Aber for yet another summer.  He explained he wanted to achieve his masters in Business Studies so that he would not have to return to India to a pre-arranged marriage.  Ouday may have been the quietest guy in the group but he was a very interesting person to talk to (naturally whilst skiving from work).

I, Kai, little Andy, and Jurah met up with Jon Hughes to watch the Castell Rock outdoor bands perform on the 19th of August 2004.  It was the laziest Saturday on the Aber Castle grounds I’ve ever spent with some of the friendliest co-workers I have known.  We even met up to see the odd film at the cinema, Kai especially enjoying Kill Bill volume two.  He, like me being a big kid at the time, except he was twenty-six years of age!

On the day Aberystwyth Town faced Dinaburg in the UEFA Intertoto Cup, I was selling matchday programmes (as edited by myself, but poorly assembled by the club photocopier), and trying to avoid Mum, Paul, Astrid and Paul who had travelled to Newtown to watch the game.  A parent’s partner in front of team-mates, friends, and colleagues whilst clearly under the affect of a few local bitters was funny, yet a bit irritating when all you want to do is watch the game!  Still it was fun.  Aber drew a goalless game with Dinaburg on the 19th of June 2004, but lost 4-0 away in Latvia.  Sadly, I was working that day and could also not afford the trip.

In 2004/05, I was determined to return to playing regular football one way or another.  On the 17th Of August training at Penparcau F.C.’s Min-y-Ddol began. The first session went well, however in my second session a football hit me on the lower side of my left jaw.  The impact had caused a molar tooth to crack, and had also forced the tooth deep into my jaw.  At first it was not too bad.  Eventually pieces would fall out, and the pain would be agonising beyond belief.  A constant headache was with me for a long time.  I could not find a dentist locally or in Manchester.

On the 7th of August, Matt Cooling drove me and Mike Watts up to see Manchester City F.C. in a home friendly versus Lazio.  City won 3-1.  The journey was hot, the day was hot, and the wasp that landed on my ear causing me to run 100m faster than athlete made me feel hot. A summer worked towards a close, my final year of university was due to begin…

TO BE CONTINUED.

J3: The Secondary School Years

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

I woke up one morning in September drenched in my own urine.  The bullying had gotten so bad that I was physically shaking.  It was seven-thirty in the morning and I did not want to return to school.  I was scared.  The very few people I had talked with since entering the school were not strong enough to stand up to the bullies, with me or for me.  Since entering Mr Redmond’s class (7DR) I did not know where to turn to.  I was not enjoying my arrival to Reddish Vale High School at all. If I seemed to be smiling, during my first year at school, it was superficial. It was a lie. Inside my head was dizzy, lost and full of fear.

The high school had a farm located close-by to our tutorial room.  I would often go here at lunchtime throughout my first three years in Reddish Vale.  To protect myself from getting hurt I would not allow people to become too close a friend.  I sat on the 177 bus to school with James Cliff and Ben McGreavy but would not really associate myself with them in school.  James was a hit with the girls, I was not.  Ben was in a different class, and had his own interests with other groups, I did not want to intrude.  The armed forces of the U.K. mustn’t have had have more ranks than Reddish Vale High School, there was Peggy Rowe (head teacher), Mr Fowler (Deputy head teacher), Mrs Huntingdon (our head of year from year 7 to 11), and numerous teachers.  Yet I could not speak to anyone about the bullying. And when I tried to do so, I was watched.  I felt trapped, unsure of what to do.  I did what Mum advised me to, that being to get my head down and work.  So in classes I worked.  I competed for our tutor group in the Science Challenge, the Inter-Tutor group, and played as much football as feasible.  65 merit points, and 99.5 percent attendance later, and July arrived.  I, Ben, and James as a treat for great attendance were taken with many other 99% upwards students to Alton Towers for free.  That early summer’s day was mostly spent avoiding queues and riding the new ride, the Nemesis. We had to force James Cliff onto the ride but he went back for more. He was a good friend.

Every high school student around me had heroes, be they from bands, sports teams, the movies, family and friends, etc.  I chose to have several heroes, Morecambe & Wise, and my Nana amongst them.   One such hero was a German footballer called Uwe Rosler.  Uwe was brought into Manchester City F.C.’s line-up by Brian Horton from Bundesliga club FC Nurnburg.  Uwe was a holder of five East German international caps.  Rosler’s enthusiasm, and 64 goals, made him hugely popular with City followers like me – in his first three full seasons he was the top scorer with 22, 13 and 17 goals respectively.  His performance even outshone his more illustrious countryman Jurgen Klinsmann and won him City’s Player of the Year trophy in 1995.  In April 1998 he returned home when he joined Bundesliga leaders Kaiserslautern.  He was not a glamour-loving footballer, nor a man who asked too much, but he always gave his all, and his spirit encouraged others to give theirs too.  That is why he was my hero, and remained a hero even in 2005 when he was a football club manager in Norway.  He even battled off cancer.  Uwe Rosler is a true living City legend. He now manages Fleetwood Town, and his sons play at City. Colin and Tony are named after City legends Colin Bell and Tony Book.

By June of 1996, I was rewarded a prize for my effort and work in English by Reddish Vale High School.  This was similar to the Nobel Peace Prize, but much smaller and of less of an international recognition.  I would have also won the Inter-tutor group athletics long-jump had someone not jumped that extra centimetre beating me!  During the course of year eight I lowered my guard to Michael Clews, William Duncan, James Cliff, and David Jackson.  Occasionally, I even allowed the highly immature Adam “Madman” Morris into our group.  Me, William and Adam became known to our P.E. teachers Mr Moore and Mr Short.  I would only ever do P.E. if it was swimming, or football.  They would have to find me spare kit and force me into other sports, as I would purposely forget my kit on other occasions.  However, they would always seem to find me kit.  It also meant evading bullies. Adam and William were compulsive users of excuse-notes from their homes.  My effort grades were above average in everything, with the exceptions being the nothing subjects (drama, art, and music).  These grades carried on into year 9, by which bullying and bed-wetting was rife.  I did however manage to gain an award for I.T. in year 9.  Something they would later regret in year 10, as I crashed every school PC calling for many technicians to repair PCs.  Well it beats Adam putting Smarties in the floppy disk drives to see what would happen!

Out of school during years 7-9, I was close friends with Dan and Peter Ridyard who lived on Crayfield Road (having moved half a mile from Broom Lane).  This was convenient as they both lived around the corner from me.  Peter was the eldest, a few months younger than I.  Dan was a year younger, cheekier and bolder.  Over time we would get into trouble playing knock a door run, trespassing on golf courses, stealing golf balls, making dens, making bonfires, playing in builders’ sand, etc.  Dan and I became close friends as Peter drifted off.  Dan and Peter both attended Burnage High School for boys only.  Dan introduced me to Rob Hanna his school mate.  Rob kept a huge distance between himself and personal hygiene in 1997.  He is most definitely not gay.  Rob remained this way until in 2002 when he moved to Cleethorpes! I’m sure since then he has discovered soap and a tooth brush.

By September of year 9, Mr Rob Oxley had taken over from Mr Redmond.  Mr Oxley was tall, loud, and strict.  However, he was easy to fool or pushover.  He did not have full control of our class.  Graham Rothwell, Barry Rhodes, John Duncan, and Chris Grimes were expelled from our class.  He was now taking more control of class.  The exceptions being the lunch hour we opened up the tower lockers, removed the inner-shelves and locked James Cliff in there for a laugh.  Sadly, David Jackson found James too easy a victim for a laugh, and James would not defend himself.  After a month of this going on, I stepped in and ended up with a steal toe-cap in my face bruising my face and alleviating James’ bullying problem.  Who better to go for than defender of the victim?!  I could easily fight people off if needed to, but found the verbal name calling and constant taunting too much.  The teachers themselves seemed too afraid to help stop the bullies and this allowed the bullies the upper hand.  When alone the bullies would befriend me, but in their packs they would pick on me.

The Sunday afternoon that followed Asa’s 19th birthday celebration night would scar me for life, and cause me to miss two weeks of school.  I was on Scotland Hall Road Park playing field near my Nana’s home.  The park was behind Seven Acres Lane, in Newton Heath.  Me, a lad called Noel I’d met and his two friends were talking whilst I cycled around the swings they sat upon.  A large group of thirty or so males (ages ranging from 11 to 19) entered the park from an illegal pathway beyond the Clayton Vale railway track.  The group looked intimidating so Noel, his friends and I moved to the park edge.  My mountain bike would not go any faster, and I could see that the large group was running at us.  I jumped off the bike leaving it on the ground.  I ran as fast as I could onto the road, just behind Noel.

Noel and I returned to the park field twenty minutes later.  My mountain bike was where I had left it.  Without a worry I ran to the bike, grabbed it, lifted it up, and turned ready to leave the park.  From behind several trees behind me emerged several of the large group.  They had been waiting to ambush somebody.  Rocks hurtled past me, stones and sticks hitting the ground around me.  As I turned around to see how far behind me they were, a large piece of tarmac thrown from about 10m slammed into my face.  I fell over.  I was dazed and unsure.  I could hear them getting closer.  Confusion set in.  Panic did not set in.  I was dazed.  I looked up.  I was ready to die there and then.  I was awaiting torture.  My attackers closed in.  They looked at me.  They could see how they damaged me.  They could see how I was.  They ran.  I was ready to collapse.  I wanted to pass out.

An arm reached down to me, Noel had returned.  He lifted me up so I could stand.  All my weight was on him.  I was floppy, exhausted and dazed.  He helped me back to Nana’s house.  Nana rang Dad, who was now at his house at the top of Ludgate Road.  Nana called for an ambulance.  I collapsed.

I awoke in the bathroom upstairs, Nana holding a cloth over my face.  I was shaking, tortured, shocked, and deep into fear.  I could see my burgundy and white Manchester City shirt was below the blood that covered it.  Nana was rubbing my back trying to calm me.  I could taste the blood running down my lips.  I looked up and saw myself in the mirror.  The left-hand side of my cheek was swollen up as large as a tennis ball.  A gash stretched from under my eye to the side of my face.  Small cuts punched red patches around my eyebrow.  Blood poured from the top of my nose.  Below which I had no distinguishable nose features down to my nostrils.  The nostrils were flaps of skin waving about.  I could see fragments of my nose bone.  Blood was everywhere.  I could not see through my left eye.  I was horrified.  I panicked more.

Dad came rushing in.  He told me not to worry.  Dad rubbed my back, covered my nose in the cloth, and lifted me up.  He helped me down the stairs.  A taxi drove us to Asa’s nearby house.  Ace drove us to Crumpsall Hospital.  From here on a combination of nausea, dizziness, and confusion make the story patchy.

I remember waking up in Nana’s house and spending several days recovering in the same room.  Despite two witnesses and details I could remember the Police failed to catch anyone.  Many stitches, and some nose surgery later and I recovered.  I returned to school slightly traumatised but none the less more determined to avoid problems.

During year 11, my careers advisor Jenny Edge had persuaded me that there were more routes after school than A-levels or working full time at McDonalds.  She had told me of the BTEC National Diploma in Animal Care, and even found me several colleges to which I could study at.  This talk had also advised me where to do my work experience.  I was to carry my placement out at Manchester Pets and Aquatics in Ardwick.  This placement came and went, and Ron Bale (the manager) offered me a part-time job.  This job lasted until the following summer, where I worked full time until August 1999.

On the day Manchester City beat Macclesfield Town two goals to nil, I contemplated buying a pet mouse.  I wanted to name any new pets after the goal-scorers that day (Gareth Taylor and Shaun Goater).  The next day I went to work, and returned with three mice.  Silverside, Redcoat, and Dash were the three male mice.  Speedy Gonzales was a female mouse amongst them.  Speedy Gonzales killed all the males except for Dash.  They lived in my room happily for a long time, and reproduced several times (allowing me to sell them to Manchester Pets and Aquatics).  Mice will always make brilliant pets, as they are active, rarely aggressive and inquisitive little friends.

On a Sunday in January 1999, Manchester Pets and Aquatics experienced an armed robbery.  The criminals forced staff member Lee into the store with a knife to his back.  They had bats, knifes, and a sword in their possession.  They forced us to the ground.  Debbie was forced to the ground behind me, and one thuggish member spotted the phone nearby to me.  He lifted the phone, slamming it onto my right knee.  As he walked past he kicked Debbie in the back.  They forced Ron the manager up the stairs.  He was forced to hand over the days takings.  The criminals left with their new found wealth.  Within minutes half of Manchester’s Police force was on the doorstep.  It was too little, too late. I broke down in tears much later.

On the 9th of March, 1999, City beat Burnley by six goals to nil at Turf Moor Stadium.  Shaun Goater bagged a hat-trick, with Andy Morrison heading home, Horlock curling one in, and Allsop bagging a strike.  This gave City hope of returning to the Nationwide Division One.

Nana had been unwell for many months.  She had always suffered from Diabetes since I was born.  A silent car pulled into the farthest car park at Crumpsall Hospital.  Dad, Ace, Uncle Pud, and I climbed out of the car doors.  We walked into the hospital, neither of us speaking.  Our feet slapping the cold concrete ground echoing down long corridors.  We walked directly to a ward.  A body lay still, motionless on a bed three beds to our right.  “Come on Nana, get up. Let’s leave here now,” I thought.  Her silence, unconsciousness, peaceful body beneath the blankets did not remind me of how Nana would act.  This was the first time Nana had not offered me a Vanilla Slice or packet of Chewitts on my arrival to the same room as her.  A tear trickled down my cheek.  I could see Dad, Uncle Pud and Ace struggling to hold back their tears.  Ace was crying, he had moved into Nana’s spare room in recent years whilst he was studying at Salford University.  Nana’s battle with Cancer was coming to an end.  Her body was being pumped with Morphine to alleviate her final pain.

The phone rang on the 29th of April, 1999.  Mum answered the call.  She could not hear anyone.  Bernadette took the phone.  She told Mum that Nana had died.  I knew she was dieing, but I did not know to react when she had died.  Nobody so close had died, whilst I was over the age of five.  My wise, humorous, loving, caring, and hugely influential Nana had died.  I could talk openly with Nana about my ambitions, and we would talk about animals all day, whether in Morecambe, Morrison’s supermarket or Newton Heath market or even her family home.

I did not cry immediately.  I walked up the stairs at our home on Broom Avenue.  I opened my door, closed my door.  I sat by my bed, and pulled the quilt onto myself.  A torrent of tears released over me.  I cried myself to sleep.

The funeral of my Nana was to be held midweek during the spring school term.  I wanted to go to the funeral.  My Dad had passed the message about where the funeral would be held, and the time it was to be held.  I would have to make my own way.  I wanted to go, but did not have a black tie or white shirt.  I decided I did not want to let Nana down by going to the funeral in my scruffy clothes, so I would go to school instead.  I started walking to school, across the Highfield Country Park.  I could not walk anymore, I wanted to break down and cry.  I found a spot in some bushes to sit down.  I sat there all day crying.  Had my Dad or some other family member collected me, I would have gone to the funeral.  I wanted to say my goodbyes at the funeral, and Nana’s final resting place.  It would take me almost six whole years to visit Nana’s final resting place.  My memory of where it was wiped away and I was too afraid to ask Dad for the location.  I would visit Nana’s house and expect to see her, and for her to offer a friendly hello.  The once warm house grew cold, and Granddad grew lonely by the day.  I’d sit on the three-cushion settee by Granddad and expect Nana to come around the glass lounge door and offer biscuits and cherryade.  I hope there is a heaven, for Nana will be caring for everybody there.

In May 1999, City looked to be remaining in the Nationwide Division Two.  89 minutes had passed at Wembley Stadium, and Gillingham was leading by two goals to none.  Kevin Horlock hit a lucky strike in, the deficit had been halved but time was running out.  City were dominating, but time was against them.  Somehow in the moments of injury time, Paul “Crocus” Dickov had broken away from the defenders.  Goater’s shot ricocheted off the defence, before Paul Dickov fired the ball into the net.  City was level when the full time whistle went.  Thirty agonising minutes of extra time was played.  The penalty shoot out went ahead.  Dickov’s penalty hit the right post, and ran behind Bartram hitting the left post.  It never crossed the line.  Nicky Weaver saved a shot from the Gillingham striker moments later.  City had won 3-1 on penalties.  City was back in Division One for the 1999/2000 season. What a day!

In June 1999, following my year 11 exams, I met Joanna Fallows at work.  She was on work experience from a school in Hyde.  She lived in Gee Cross.  We would enjoy many nights at 10-pin bowling, the cinema, Pizza Hut, and Lazer Quest (where Dan and I often went each weekend).  Joanna was a tall lady, brunette, 36DD, and a very sporty lady.  We enjoyed swimming at the Hyde Leisure pools a few times together.  This was a very good relationship, especially as I did not feel anyone would ever like me.  We drifted apart by August, as I had quit Manchester Pets and Aquatics to spend more time with Joanna.  This backfired as Joanna seemed intent on just shopping.  I hated shopping.  We split up, and I started work at Co-op Pioneer in Gorton.  My first kiss and my first taste of foreplay came with Joanna. I was too young though. Young and naive.

In August 1999, Mum and Paul took Astrid, Paul and I to Barmouth (Abermaw).  The Welsh town is located on the west coast of Wales south of the legendary village of Harlech.  We stayed at a holiday village called Sunnysands.  The sandy beaches were clean and white.  The sea was warm and clear.  I would often walk south down the coast six miles into Barmouth.  In the mornings the beach was often undisturbed, and many a Cormorant or Blue-Velvet Swimmer Crab would be observed.  I would leave Barmouth with sunburn and a perfectly relaxed state of mind.

Registration for college was looming, and on the day I received 8 grades Cs, a grade B in Geography, and a grade D in Electronics at GCSE level. Not the best, but by far not the worst. I hadn’t revised at all, ever, not once.  I attended North Trafford College, handed my grades to Elaine Lamb (the potential tutor) and agreed I wanted to be part of this college (even if it was in the shadows of Old Trafford football ground).