China – the Marmite nation.

05/04/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

How do! / 你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste!

Is the grass greener on the other side? Is there a huge chasm in cultures? Is the so-called red menace meddling with the international community? Has America’s time as a world leader gone? Is China like Marmite in that you either love it or hate it?

I’m in China – and the only TV station I can see reporting much about the world is CGTN. OFCOM have ongoing problems with them. The state TV channels, CCTV (seriously) intended CGTN to tell the story of China and add a Chinese view on world news – with much culture mixed in. They’re entitled to their views. Let’s face it, the BBC often sugarcoats and chooses its own spins. Just like Murdoch’s empire, CNN and Fox News. Oasis had the album out, Don’t Believe the Truth, and that’s what we need to do more. Think on our sins, multiply it, and add a dash of common sense. Some of the opinion pieces are clearly labelled as opinions written by a mix of western and Asian correspondents. Many like Tom Fowdy may have been persecuted for his beliefs in years gone by, by the British government, just for the connection to the red side of politics. Has a pool of talent been forced to join the other side? Has the media industry become so one-sided that it cannot handle difference?

Since I landed on March the 26^th, I have seen nothing but great organisation and techniques to prevent a rebound of infection and to suppress the outbreak. China has an aim of zero new cases. It’s since banned foreigners from entering China and steered one airline per country to one airport. Its returning citizens, like myself and other foreigners before them, are placed into strict 14-day quarantine hotels. We’re all monitored closely and any sign of trouble, will lead to a hospital stay and appropriate treatment. Lockdowns here have mostly been withdrawn and bit by bit, things are opening, even the epicentre of Hubei and Wuhan. There’s a fear of a second wave and officials are gradually easing things back to normality. The world can only watch, as few nations are close to this re-opening of a freer society. What day of quarantine am I actually on now?

It is worth noting that pre-COVID-19 outbreak there were few, if any, official TV or media outlets that had social media accounts. There weren’t many suppliers of personal protection equipment either, and now there are countless factories churning these out, so much so that the government in China is reacting to standardise and improve qualities by maintaining licensed products. As there is a gap in the market, and freedom permits, these things are normal.

It is really easy to bash China and to think about what their gains are, but right now, I’d have more faith in China than the stumbling bundle of turd that is Boris Johnson and his cronies. I wouldn’t look at Team America – World Police, because under the helm of Donny Trump, you’re more likely to get service from the living dead. As one nation tries to fly a flag of hope by being the only nationals to climb Mount Everest in 2020, the other nation mixes rhetoric in a roundabout of confusing advice to its citizens. Still at least ‘merica has the Cornish pasty.

Now, China is helping countless nations, including the USA. Information is being shared from the scientist community, and on the surface, it appears China is being more open than ever before. It does have damage limitation to deal with domestically. What nation doesn’t?! On the flipside there is a huge distrust within the west. Algeria calls China ‘true friend’; doctors flew to Italy; Ireland via Huawei; and the list goes on. What’re your thoughts?

Cats may be carriers and infected, according to Huazhong Agricultural University and another team led by Shi Zhengli from the Wuhan Institute of Virology. 5G is getting the blame. Such a drug is the known cure, because Trump said so. Stop it! What really worries me are the conspiracy theories and the insane amount of dirt being thrown around. It wasn’t made in any military or civilian laboratory. Can we see the wood for the trees?

Reports of Nigerian forests being logged for gain, winning new followers, or reporting on Xi Jinping’s whereabouts can be spun by any media, in any nation. Chairman Mao, once said something along the lines of, “Making the foreign serve China” but has any western nation not had its fair serving of other nations overseas? More to the point, right now, internationalism is rife and if you tour any major city in Asia, you’ll find Union Flags, ‘merica fast food chains (the known ‘merican embassy being McD’s). The commercialisation and rapid imposing of English language and trade links galore cannot be hidden. We’re interconnected like never before. Why can’t China have a bit of that? Or India? Brazil too? The whole world is over-populated and resource is limited. Competition and clashes are inevitable. Have you always got on with your neighbours? Or, a tax-backed Liverpool FC?

Either side of the world, a nation will have an ideological spin. Many nations look after themselves and preach to their own audience, or use missions, and state backed councils to drive their cause. Some criticise and deconstruct themselves to allow evolution. Many are globally reachable. China is here, and here to stay. It may offer censorship and avoid certain topics, but now it is beyond the Great Wall, and finding a home alongside The Daily Mail, South China Morning Post, and The Telegraph. A once strictly controlled media now has a place within the free press. That’s an already muddle up and messed up free press controlled by gaining parties and sectors with vested interests. So, is there anything new to skewed news angles?

There are advantages and disadvantages to different ways of living. There are pros and cons for traditions. The benefits and losses of one side of the story may be a contrast to the other. One gain opposes one setback. A profit and reward could seem great, but what about the loss? A desirable plus in one set of words, could mean a minus and negativity over the way. Are you for or are you against thinking about each side of an argument? What you choose to believe and choose to understand is up to you. Just don’t be a knobhead.

In closing, I recommend everyone reads and enjoys Laura Gao’s comic take entitled, The Wuhan I Know. Put aside ignorance and really enjoy it. Its Manchester’s twin city. When this all blows over, I will visit Wuhan. Why not?

Just don’t read The Sun!

Vivid moments on the Earth’s crust.

04/04/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

Eddie, Eddie give us a wave!

Rest in peace Eddie Large. The comedian born in Scotland came to Manchester as a kid and adopted City. Well City adopted him as a mascot later on in the years and one thing about him and Syd Little, they really were a sweet comedy pair. On his heart problem: “He said, “What stresses you out?”, I said, “football”, he said, “What team do you support?”, I said, “Manchester City”. He said, “That’s it.”” Later he ends the brief video story as, “I don’t blame it on City, but he did.” Rest in peace big man – and condolences to your family. The likes of Matt Lucas saying that Eddie Large offered him support when he started out says a lot. Eddie Large has a large legacy.

Words and actions are being thrown around in these tough times. I love reading and can’t focus because the information that is out there is too much. There’s great and good. There’s sad and devastating. For example, the BBC News footage of the news presenter Jane Hill saying the government expected 30,000 ventilators. Before that, she sounded so bleak, and she shows all the pain in her face, “…and we have been double-checking this, but it does seem to say thirty.” So, so worrying. Even the media are struggling to comprehend this all now. Shandong province, of China, have sent support to the U.K.

“This virus is a disaster. Footballers can live without receiving a single paycheck for a few years, but I feel sorry for the person who wakes up at 6 in the morning and comes back at 9 at night just to feed his family. Us footballers can make a difference.” – Carlos Tevez, footballer

Someone, somewhere, wrote to me, ‘How’s the bat soup going down. & the puppy blamange desert?’At first I wan’t going t reply. There’s so much hate and pain going around. There’s so many xenophobic lines just bashed out on keyboards. I know, because all I want to do is exercise my right to reply or write something. Usually, I hold back. Spread peace and love. I try. I hate hate. But away, I went as per below:

This is obviously linked to wet markets and wildlife trade. China is pushing through some serious laws. They’ve lost so much face, and many lives, many. The world is suffering too. If it wasn’t here, it could have started in Vietnam, Korea, a whole list of countries. The thing is, it is too late to laugh at it all, because it’s on our doorsteps, everywhere, knocking and pushing its way through. We’ll all suffer for this. It is too sad for me to laugh at. Especially, seeing as bear bile is classed as a TCM (traditional Chinese med)… and is sanctioned to treat COVID19.

Sorry, I can’t joke anymore about this. Over here, in China, foreigners are experiencing xenphobia for importing cases into the country, jobs are going for fellow teachers and workers who were needed here. Gallow’s humour is all well and good but there is a time and place. The blancmange is to die for.

This virus and spread of disease may be hell for many. Some will go into lockdown and may never come out. Elliot Dallen imagined spending his last few weeks with friends. Now his final time is slipping away. I can’t imagine the dread he is going through and there are no words that I, or many others can offer for him. I hope he gets the tangible bonds of friendship and family time, he like many, are missing. Life must carry on, right to the end.

The journey goes on.

Leaving Chame (2710m) town, we clambered up a wide pathway, below a very steep cliff of a mountain. The rattle and whistle of prayer flags could be heard overhead. The path led out, upwards gently, hugging the valley. Eventually in reached a small village and then another smaller village. Bhratang (2850m) was quite a small village. Not so much a village, more of a hamlet. A small number of houses before modern signs for The Farmhouse. The Farmhouse is an eco-resort, and many note it as being a heaven for apples. I was excited. I wanted to try an apple from here, despite knowing that the orchard much be closed. Maybe, just maybe they’d have one or two apples knocking around in a cold room. I clung to hope. The Farmhouse has a link to both Bhratang Apple Farm and Agro Manang. This is Nepal’s biggest and most famous source of apples. Maybe, they’d have some apple sauce? Some ciders? Apple vinegar? The apples that the bus in Swayambhu, Kathmandu had carried (to Pokhara) had come from here. I’m not a huge apple fan (I could have said big apple, right?) but the smell of those apples on that bus journey was scrumptious.

Soon after I would pass a huge apple orchard with discernible damage from storms. Power lines, trees and fencing didn’t just lean over, it littered the scattered exposed earth. The acres of apple trees leaned towards the south in a way a rugby team would crouch in a scrum. The naked branches of each tree were bound together with reinforced ropes and supports, giving it the view of a kind of wooden graveyard. The towering rockface to the right of the path sparkled in the sunlight, with occasional ledges much like the whole mountain had been carved away by an immense force. The eco-park beneath it and The Farmhouse were closed. There was no chance of an apple tart or an apple flapjack. I refilled my water bottle from one of three gushing springs set in a wall.

The orchard was hidden by fences that could have belonged in Jurassic Park. Warnings about keeping out were everywhere. Every now and then a tree had fell out of the in, and into the road. Bits of electrical pylons dotted the pathways and the odd electrical wiring slung here and there. An apple a day may keep the doctor away, but this pile of ruins wasn’t inviting me to look for the scattered rotten apples on the floor. Quite the opposite. I trotted on.

Rounded a sharp-rising pathway from Bhratang, the huge western face of Pagunda Danda became visible. The mountain could easily have doubled as a slate of hill, or a hill of slate. It is so smooth-looking that you wonder if it has been moisturising for millennia. Many people trek the Annapurna Circuit for the biggies, the large peaks but views such as Pagunda Danda alone made my trip well worth doing. I can see the appeal of a scramble and ice-climb up the face, but with melting and sunlight upon it, the risks of avalanches were high.

Avalanches had been noted from just before Chame village onwards. One avalanche field had swept trees, boulders and all in its path down across the pathway. The pathway had been sliced open again and cleared. Either side of the road potato-shaped but basketball-sized balls of frozen snow piled high, with twigs, branches and stumps jutting outwards. On the lower levels of the pathway, fallen electric pylons and rocks the sizes of cars had crashed downwards. The avalanche was not fresh, but it wasn’t particularly old. Looking upwards into the steep valley to a mountain ridge, I deliberated about where all this material had actually come from. It was frighteningly too much for mind to compute.

The second avalanche field I encountered was on the opposite bank of the gushing Marshyangdi River. It was so big that it covered over the river and arrived at the steep base far below my footing. The river had tunnelled through the frozen snow overhead. It was an eerie sight to behold. Just before that field a few tonnes had piled on the sharply-carved Bhratang to Chame road making the area impassable, and causing a huge landslide to make the footpath as wide as a human could walk safely. Just. Below in the river, a carcass of a Toyota jeep sat well-below the narrow road overhead. Later, Livia had found out that back in October, several people were on board as the jeep slipped off the road. Thankfully all had managed to jump clear. A real miracle in the mountains.

The sharp road is but only wide enough for one car. The rock above is barely two metres high. It’s a ledge that commands real respect and no hanging around. A long horizontal slat has ice caps and blastholes in equal scatterings. Walking far from the edge, I could peek at the drop below. Ravine of the week was alongside me for several hundred metres. I felt I needed to be roped to the wall behind me.

The largest path of avalanche destruction lay soon after the perils of the cliff track. A huge sweeping sheath of snow and debris had swept from the southern flank of Pagunda Danda. This casing of ice and power had ripped over the pathway into the river below. A clearly demarked pathway was cut through and lined with pines from nearby trees. The crevices and nooks around which were not safe to linger for too long.

On approach to the well-named Marshyangdi River Bridge, Pagunda Danda’s splendour was there for all to see. This 1500m (4,900ft) elevation is striking. Almost like a vivid piece of the Earth’s crust curved outwards and upwards in a kind of skateboard park half-pipe shape. It isn’t beyond the imagination to picture people skiing down the snow covered silky-looking solid surface or perhaps cycling up the shiny and extraordinary rockface itself. I was reliably informed by a passing guide that once upon a time it once was a lakebed. My imagination could barely see that. Now, local legends believe that mass of rock, known as Swarga (heaven) Dwar (gates) is the route to the afterlife. After leaving your mortal remains behind, you must clamber up this wall to reach the beyond. Few cracks and very little green grew along this gargantuan surface. Its various tones glimmered in the sunlight. Swarga Dwar is heavenly.

I decided I’d walk over the wider bridge. Bad idea. Not so soon after, I had to double back in deep-unbroken snow to the pathway that connected from the smaller chain suspension bridge. Still, the views were worth it, or that’s what I kept telling myself. On crossing the bridge, I noticed that not one, but of my walking boots had worn splits in them. They would remain watertight for that day, but worry set in. How easy is it to buy a pair of UK size-14 boots in the mountains? Was there much demand for European-sized 50 boots in that neck of the woods? Would a repair shop be open in Manang?

The slog up to Dhukur Pokhari (3240m) involved a little bit of that famous Nepali flat (little bit up, little bit down) on the last section. Ordinarily, I’d have enjoyed that, but waist-deep snow and a heavy frame meant I spent a fair bit of time digging myself out and starting up and over again, only to have to dig myself out again. Occasionally, for the sake of variety I flumped over like a dropped teddy bear and rolled around in the snow. These are the moments we hike for – to get in touch with nature, even if gravity is fully in charge. This also gave me time to really appreciate the incredible views. Snow-capped peaks are in every direction and the lower hills around me give glimpses of the fuller Annapurna range. The path had been a zigzagging tour of the under-canopy of pines and firs. The trees had nestled so closely at times that sunlight had failed to melt much of the deep snow beneath the natural green sunshade.

At Dhukur Pokhari, a brightly coloured lodge offering a fruit juice and sun-bathed benches caught my attention. Several trekkers were tucking into what looked like proper potato chips. Would they also have gravy and a nice piece of haddock too? I decided that lunch was needed. Well, actually my belly was rumbling like hell having ran on a trekker’s fuel bar, porridge and omelette for far too long. I greeted the lodges family, “Tashi delek” and took the menu from them. The crisp air, with sunshine beating down on me, reminded me of a winter’s sunny day on Morecambe Bay. I was warm despite the now sub-zero temperatures.

After a lunch of vegetable momos, chips, and allu paratha (potato in a bread), I didn’t enjoy the dal bhat later that evening, but I did have plenty in the tank for the final part of the walk. The steep upwards pathway through to Dhukur Pokhari had burned a fair bit of energy but on leaving the village, the trail was quite smooth, with only a few upward rises, and most of them in the finale of the path.Livia, Srirang and I set out once more and remained together for the final push of the day. The air was much thinner than earlier than day, and a huge radio mast amongst the crumbling old and proud new buildings marked out the final stop for the day. It grew ever closer.

After crossing a footbridge, alongside two twisted bridge remains, the pathway snaked in and out of small bushes and a very hidden abandoned settlement. To the left the river moved away, and fields spread outwards. To the right a new peak became clearer. Pisang takes its name from Pisang Peak (locally called Jong Ri – 6091m high), of which Paungda Danda is its south-eastern subsidiary peak. The so-called ‘Great Wall of Pisang’ was easily visible in the fading sunlight. Pisang Youth Club’s football fields could be made out amongst the snow on our right, as the goalposts gave it away. To our left, a huge sweeping curing avalanched seemed to have completely lost momentum at a stonewall. It was stonewalled just a metre from our footpath. The jagged windswept icy tufts of the avalanche stood in contrast to intact wheat shoots to the avalanche’s left.

Upper Pisang (3300m) is part of the Pisang village. Lower Pisang (3200m) is its slightly lower down and over the valley other half. About 307 live across 105 houses, according to a census in 2011. It seemed on my visit, that far fewer people were here. Arriving at our guesthouse, the lucidly turquoise Marshyangdi River could be seen a hundred metres or so below. If life it what you make it, then right there and then, life was wonderful. To reach Lower Pisang, you don’t cross the bridges, you follow the river and cross a different bridge. The Lower Pisang plains and the buildings looked cold and uninviting because the mountains above cast such a large shadow below.

Upper Pisang has sweeping great views of Annapurna II and ample opportunity to take endless snaps on your camera. The lodge’s family feel is completed by a young girl singing from YouTube videos on a phone. Mother and father, busy cooking occasionally pop out to check on her, and she looked up every time, with full respect and listened to all instructions, in the Tibetan language.

After gaining 600m in elevation and trekking about 14.5km that day, we’d all earned a good night’s sleep. I tucked under my extra blanket and crept into my sleeping bag. I sat up suddenly and took one last look outside at the valley beneath and the few twinkles of electric light. The dark sky and stars made me realise how cold it was, so I slipped back into the sleeping bag and soon fell asleep, deep into a dream…

“Listen as the wind blows, from across the great divide, voices traoped in yearning, memories trapped in time. The night is my companion, and solitude is my guide…” – Possession by Sarah McLachlan

Cover image by the angry hungry Hungarian and great trekker Livia (Srirang and I passing an avalanche field the day after arriving at Upper Pisang):

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Sir Richard Branson: bastard or not?

02/04/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

Sir Richard Branson, Nelson Mandela and Bernard Manning walk into a bar…

“One of the most inspiring men I have ever met and had the honour to call my friend.” – Richard Branson on Nelson Mandela.

Sir Richard Branson may have won the prize of: Proper knobhead of the week. This is a man who has just asked for a bailout by the treasury. Anything wrong with that? Virgin Group, founded in 1970, have contributed greatly to British capitalist society and employed many, many people over the years. I’m still bitter about losing my Virgin Megastore gift vouchers (by then known as Zavvi) in 2008. Okay, so it was the management buy-out group that made the store sink fast, but I still believe Virgin did the damage. Virgin Care settled a claim against NHS Surrey – which was scandalous and just adds to their weighted presence in public healthcare. How much of the NHS money was used to fight a battle against dark enterprise? Too much.

In 1971, he did time behind bars for tax evasion. A spot of fraud helped him along with his fledgling empire. Okay, that’s ancient news. It happens amongst British complex laws and taxes. Forgivable. He paid his fines and did his time. But, since then offshore trusts and companies have become the norm. Paying tax to the U.K. treasury has not. This self-described tax exile has made millions from the U.K., yet is now a citizen of the British Virgin Islands (which came first the decision to live there or the Virgin Records store?). All this came long before Sir Richard became accused of sexual assault. Will he star on the #METOO movement soon?

69-year-old Sir Richard Branson is worth shitloads. Some say about 4 billion U.S. dollars. That’s about 70USD for every UK citizen. His political leanings are mixed. He endorsed Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton in 2016. He’s the son of Eve Branson (a Child welfare advocate) and Edward Branson. Sir Rich Branson has a sister who owns the Scottish island of Eilean Shona. The author J.M. Barrie wrote Peter Pan here. Privilege and humanity have surrounded his family’s rise for decades on end. However, he has a history of promoting SeaWorld.

The world is not black and white, even racist comedian Bernard Manning had The Beatles at his Embassy Club early on. A man who guarded Nazi war criminals ahead of their trials had lived in a different time and displayed his talents in the most unacceptable ways. A complex and tough life intertwined with a mix of smoke and daggers. Sir Richard Branson, however, paints himself more as a white knight. A keeper of values. Perhaps from his Necker Island home, owned by Virgin Limited Edition, he had a natter on WhatsApp with Airbus (a fleet of aircraft are on order), Rolls-Royce (a company with origins in Manchester who now make the engines for Airbus), and a few airports (who need airlines). Then he picked up his pen, crossed some teas and scribed his name. “Dear Transport Secretary Grant Shapps…” grovel, beg, plea, cringe, know-tow, fawn, creepy-creepy crawling words, kneeling, stooping words, and a spot of demeaning of ourselves. Did they bow and scrape humbly? “Oh, and hey, we want to build a cable car to France and back (for a premium).”

Sir Richard Branson has done amazing things over the years. But, with petitions against him receiving winter fuel payments, even if he gave it to charity, he’s not shy of controversy. Virgin Atlantic staff have been placed on eight weeks of leave. Some have been lucky and found work with the side of the angels – the NHS! There’s always hope…

They’re Here To Save The World?

01/04/202001/04/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

Let’s start with goats. Goats at the seaside to be precise. Smooth Kashmiri goats popped own from the Great Orme for a bite to eat in sleepy Llandudno. Not once, but twice. Twitter and Andrew Stuart have been following this closely.

Dana Barrett: “That’s the bedroom, but nothing ever happened in there.”

Peter Venkman: “What a crime.”

Lines from Ghostbusters (1984).

Bin linings are being reported as medical head covers. Clinical bin liners are also being used to cover feet. Aprons, basic kind, no special functions too. Welcome to the modern NHS that is reported battling COVID-19 with improvisation. Reports of doctors and nurses being told to go from wards with COVID-19 patients to wards with no reported cases. Staff breaking down in tears. Mental health of our heroes under so much pressure. At home and abroad. That leads me to the saddest news I’ve read today, and there is so much to choose from, so much pain and suffering now. The suicide of Daniela Trezzi. The National Federation of Nurses of Italy reported that the 34-year-old nurse was worried she’d transmit COVID-19 to others. 5.670 nurses and other medical or healthcare workers have been infected by COVID-19. They are the frontline. They are under immense stress and trauma. They need support, everywhere.

The gamble of delaying lockdowns and social distancing, in favour of herd immunity is now in full swing. The UK leadership reacted too slowly, and their herd are now suffering. Some will be lambs to the slaughter. Others will be asymptomatic. Some will get a tough flu. Some will remain with damaged lungs. All will know somebody who has or had COVID-19. Now, the tricky part. How many are ready to bury their loved ones? There won’t be many, if any. Few will need to inter because this virus will require cremations for the dead. Lay to rest your worries because if you are six feet under, your government will carry on regardless. They won’t put in the ground changes for one person. Your loved ones will carry on. They will have no choice. This government will secrete and conceal its failings, opting to cover over cracks and protect the economy at all costs. As Oasis sang, in Half The World Away, “I would like to leave this city; This old town don’t smell too pretty and; I can feel the warning signs running around my mind…”

Christina helped me Skype Dad. So happy to talk to my Dad. Miss him. Miss all my family and not knowing when I can return home to see them all is tough. BUT, we’re at war now. Time to soldier on. Some might say we will find a brighter day – cheers Oasis. This one brief video call does raise my spirits dramatically. I’m not yet skipping and skinging, but I’m certainly less slouching tiger, hidden madman. I’m now flitting between previously downloaded TV series and making video classes for class 3F’s online education. Series 1 and series 5 of Inside No. 9 have been watched. The first episode of the fifth season is titled, ‘The Referees a…’ so that’s why I skipped series 2 through 4. Maria delivering my laptop from my apartment was a great relief. Although wi-fi here is mostly off and the phone signal is up and down like a yoyo. Thankfully before the summer, I’d downloaded many videos in advance.

“Brothers and sisters in shit, I present to you another double banana! This double banana is a sign that you should never give up, and that good things await for you. the beautiful thing about never giving up, is that you have to try it just once, and then its forever, because you never give up.” – Shittyflute,YouTube.

Today, I ate a twin banana. A double banana. I have never seen one before. On unsheathing the mammoth yellow fruit, I pealed back the skin to reveal two perfect bananas, side by side, with the tiniest gap and no bonding between the two. What witchcraft was this? I quickly consulted the WTF hotline and spoke with Dr Google. The good doctor threw up a pregnancy myth as the first of 33,000,000 results in 0.48 seconds. I fail to believe that many webpages contain even a waft of twin bananas. Women’s Health and Wellness stuck to the top of the hits. I clicked it. I was visitor 201119. I’m not a woman but I read on regardless. It seems in the Philippines that to eat such a double banana is believed to produce Siamese twins. A myth according to Desiree F. Manlapaz-Gonzales, MD. The only valuable information I gathered was that a twin banana has about 20% of your necessary daily value in potassium. Now I just need a further four twin bananas. I didn’t click the link on the left of the page marked as CANE VINEGAR for the treatment of VAGINAL PROBLEMS…

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Regarding the foods within quarantine, if the toilet pipes block here, that’s me tipping corn congee, on a daily basis; flicking corn from my lunch and generally burying the uneaten corn as far away from my single-use plastics as possible. Food has been a mixture of just good enough, and adequate. There isn’t anything to rave about, but I wouldn’t moan too much about it either. The hotel’s range in sustenance and fodder are more varied than some other people will be experiencing these days. I’m lucky. Three meals a day, plus the option to have food delivered where needed. I can’t complain.

It isn’t easy to overlook what world leaders are doing and saying, or who is blaming who, but if we all react to this then they win. They’ve distracted us. From the moment I boarded a flight back to China, I’ve seen nothing but professionalism and dedication to ending the spread of this disease and virus here. I’m a guest in China. I’m British. I love my hometown and I’m a slightly proud Mancunian (the people of Manchester) and it pains me to see what is happening back home, and, that I can do little to help my family and friends now. So, here I am, luckily. A lucky one. A fortunate one. I am in quarantine because I cannot risk the lives of my second home. Dongguan is looking after me, and I respect that. I just wish I had better Wi-Fi, but I can’t be in a bad place with three square meals and a roof over my head. Remember, the control of this outbreak is still going on, and we can’t take chances.

“Gozer the Gozerian? Good evening. As a duly-designated representative of the City, County and State of New York, I order you to cease any and all supernatural activity and return forthwith to your place of origin, or to the next convenient parallel dimension.” – **Ray Stantz, character in Ghostbusters (a movie from 1984)**

We can’t distrust the use of Traditional Chinese Medicines (TCMs), or modern medicines, or possible new cures, or experimental treatments. What works for one, may not work for others, but let’s not label everything as bobbins (a Mancunian term meaning not good). Anyway, it is good to be back in Dongguan, despite the circumstances. I hope everybody here has come from this stronger – and as I said back when it all started in Wuhan, stay strong, really, stay strong.

Unfortunately, the first four days in isolation were very long. I’d read plenty of Jack Reacher pages by the author Lee Child. I’m certainly ploughing my way through that series. I’d occupied myself with some lifting (the desk, a chair, a sofa and a smaller coffee table), some hops (over hurdles made by two beds paced evenly), some star jumps, and generally making a pratt or myself. My dim-witted hours seemed to last for hours. I know deep down people are in far worse places, but all I could experience and understand in those moments was myself being useless and clueless. I spent more time on my phone than ever before. I began to become worried that I’d leave here with eagle-like claw hands. After two weeks in quarantine, I might become a Lego man.

Fortunately, Maria delivered my laptop computer on day five. So, at least I could type some crap. Some snacks were also in a bag alongside bananas and blueberries.

Unfortunately, the Wi-Fi here is mostly down to zero and my phone internet isn’t 4G or even 3G at the minute. Things upload and download slower than a sloth breakdancing on a dance machine in an arcade.

Fortunately, a neighbouring room has allowed me to use their hotspot from time to time.

Unfortunately, I ache from lack of activity and cannot find ways to stay sprightly.

Fortunately, when I am free of quarantine, I’m going to be far more active than ever before.

Unfortunately, Newcastle Utd FC became the first Premier League club to put staff in furlough as coronavirus causes financial squeeze. Mike Ashley has never been known for generosity.

Fortunately, Vincent Kompany is supporting the staff and players as they take cuts at Anderlecht whilst revenues are off the cards.

Unfortunately, masks are only now be advised at UK hospitals. Staff absences care at record levels. Even Trump is laying into Boris Johnson. The Express ran a bizarre April Fool’s piece about Brexit not being delayed. Yawn. Much bigger things to do, right now…

Fortunately, Joe Wicks is making PE lessons and donations are reaching the NHS.

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Here in quarantine spirits are good, despite a fire alarm and some late night movie watching which echoed down the corridor ruining my sleep. Also, no sharp things are allowed and there is a no alcohol rule. As long as there are no Grêmio or Internacional rivalries brewing, one nail file should be okay, but sadly no booze. None. Not a drop. A dry hotel with no opportunity to step beyond the bedroom door. Only 450RMB a night, remember. The swimming pool is closed outside, which is just as well, considering it has fish, algae and snakes on the pool’s edge. And cats that probably pooh on the mouldy deckchairs.

My sleep is odd. I can’t sleep so easily. I find my body suddenly decides 01:00hrs is a time for a jog around the 5m x 7m room. Even setting the alarm for the breakfast delivery at 07:40 isn’t hard. I wake up before the hazmat-suited guard drops the food and dashes away from my door. The temperature checks are between 9am and 10am, and then 8pm to 9pm. I have little to look forwards to or get excited about. It is all rather dull, but as I said, and as I will maintain, I’m not risking my life on any frontline like brave medics around the world and I’m not homeless sleeping in a social distancing-marked car park in Las Vega s.

There are supplies and things in the room: bottles of water, shampoo, shower gel, washing up liquid for laundry, toilet rolls (I have 13 spare), a kettle, a fan, a television with CGTN (a Chinese perspective of the global news), a two-seater sofa (I’m alone and no company is allowed), two single beds (see previous entry), an air conditioner (disabled, because they can cause viruses to spread), two vented and permanently opened windows, two cups (no spoon), a serving tray, a chair with a desk and two new towels of various sizes. There is a small coffee table, a wardrobe, a bucket and a sink bowl. They all have uses. Mostly mundane uses. Rather like this writing. That’s all folks. No massive ending or crescendo of purpose. Just this.

The end.

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Before quarantine.

30/03/202030/03/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

“In general what I tell people I have learnt is that it’s far better to make a friend out of a possible enemy than an enemy out of a possible friend. You can’t go far wrong.” – Bob Weighton, aged 112 – interview on Good Morning Britain.

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“We need to call Mr Lam back in 20 minutes,” Gerry said, explaining that we had little time to make a decision or get out of Thailand. Monday had started heavily, with worries about an impending closure of the whole of Thailand. Royal mandates and decrees were in position and martial law was on the horizon. A state of emergency was teetering into play, threatening one to three months of lockdowns. Flights were being cancelled and the prospect of all international flights being suspending was approaching fast. We’d been supplying our Principal, Mr Lam with regular requests for assistance for many days, as it was. And, both Gerry and I had had flights cancelled in the run up to that Monday. My Thai Air Asia flight could be rebooked, as long as it was before the scheduled flight on April the 1^st, April Fool’s Day. Trip.com, the agent that I booked with has yet to provide any customer assistance. That’s understandable considering the world’s population of humans have big, big, big problems now.

The British Embassy and UK Foreign Office were essentially telling all British citizens to fly home to the motherland – a green land heavily infected with COVID-19. The Thai people said I could remain there and all I needed was a British embassy letter. The UK Foreign Office had previously said don’t go to China – and had yet to retract that statement, despite China being one of the few places seriously controlling the spread of COVID-19…

Mr Lam, and the school could not confirm of the school would be responsible for flight costs or any potential quarantine costs. At that stage, flight tickets had jumped from about 900RMB one way to 4660RMB – and quarantine could be anywhere between 200-400RMB a day. We were pretty much assured that we would be allowed home quarantine as many others had experienced this. Another colleague Nick, was trapped in Sri Lanka, with fast-diminishing flights outbound, but was due to fly on April the 3^rd. Two colleagues, Garth and Jason had been in Dongguan during their lockdown and were finally enjoying restaurants and fresh air after lengthy periods tucked in their homes.

So, I agreed with Gerry, that we had to go. With that Mr Lam booked us on a China Southern Airlines flight to Guangzhou. So from an evening playing four-in-a-row and checkers with science teacher Sirimook, I was frantically packing my bags and cramming bottles of Vimto into spaces that weren’t actually there. Around midnight, I was lay on the bed, everything packed and ready to go. It seemed to fast. This was an urgent few hours.

IMG_20200325_091650 I awoke at 7.30am, I jumped onto the hire bicycle and returned it to Mr Wichai, who was very kind throughout the hiring period of said mountain bike. As I jumped on a tuk-tuk back, I told Gerry to fry up some of the Wiltshire bacon and the black pudding that we had ordered for a future treat. He complied, and as the kind woman driver of the tuk-tuk waited outside, we tucked into the quick breakfast, doused in HP brown sauce and then bid Amy and Eddi good luck and goodbye. They were to remain there indefinitely and would probably not emerge until Liverpool lifted the 2019/20 Premier League title, and the world was a safer place.

Back onto the friendly tuk-tuk driver’s tuk-tuk, we zipped out Chanta village gates, waving goodbye to the security guard and gatekeeper (in a mask, just like us), and turned right, then left at the roundabout, across the really quiet main road. We stopped so that I could pick up my City hat, it blew off due to turbulence and a gust. I ran to grab it. A snake darted off the near empty roads. I jumped back onto the tuk-tuk. The driver floored it. We reached the modern Hua Hin Airport to Bangkok Airport bus station. We paid her 600 baht for her driving, way above the usual rate – but she certainly wasn’t getting many customers that day. Hua Hin was desolate. Everyone who could fly away, had gone, or were at the airports desperately finding a way to their native lands. About a tenth of the average million visitors to Thailand were at that time stranded or clutching at straws to get out. We grabbed our bags and went to the counter. Almost all the buses that day had sold out. Our luck was in. We paid 294 baht. Within an hour we boarded the full 11:30am service, which left 30 minutes. The usual journey time was anticipated to be three to five hours dependent on traffic. We arrived before 2pm. Way too early check-in. Even with roadworks, our coach had practically flown into Bangkok uninhibited.

At Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport, our temperature was checked on the way in and we were each labelled with a green sticker. We were in. After being told that we were far too early to check in, we skipped past many returning Chinese nationals in hazardous materials suits. Some had full facial gas masks on. Some wore visors. Many sported full body rain ponchos that could be found in theme parks across the world. Others had kits resembling a kind of pale Ghostbusters. We wandered downstairs, well travellators, for lunch passing sets of four seats with two red exes closing off the central seats. A green tick meant that you could sit down. Posters, banners, hand gels, sanitizers, signs, announcements and swarms of temperature gun-toting airport staff. The pandemic response was clear to see.

Next was some queuing on red dots and trying to occupy one red dot on the floor per person, without being close to the person in front or behind. After dropping our bags in, scanning a QR code which gave us a National Health Commission of China health declaration, in Chinese, we proceeded to customs and passed several LED screens full of cancellations. Very little was due to fly that day. We were lucky. I showed Gerry that the Spring Airlines flight to Guangzhou that evening was cancelled. That was our other possible way out. There still was a chance that we would not lift off the ground. Flights were also known to face diversions and returns to their departure airports. We kept hope.

wx_camera_1585137521122 After a goodbye beer in the airport, we grabbed sandwiches to go, quickly, as our flight’s departure had moved forwards a little. We boarded the flight and at the rear of the plane we were able to move from row 57 to 61 and enjoy lots of empty seats. They’re here, they’re there, they’re every slipping where, empty seats, empty seats… No headphones in flight and all the staff had latex hands, and half-hidden faces. After the usual health and safety video, the China Southern Airlines, flight CZ364 taxied and then rocketed down the runway. The wheels lifted and the plane went skywards. Up, up and away.

After an inflight sandwich or two, and a pre-packed inflight snack pack, our flight descended. We had no real idea of when we would eat next or how the reported quarantine and testing processes would be. We’d filled in the health declaration form – the first of four paper sheets that night and following early hours. Another QR code later, and we’d replicated the paper form on an electronic giving us a further QR barcode to provide to the epidemiological investigations team, after two temperature checks. Here a translator copied my English form to a Chinese form. Gerry was led away to another room. Eventually I was also directed to that room. The cast of Outbreak, in their sky-blue and white uniform hazmat suits wandered in and out. Gerry was led away to a smaller room and came out soon after saying the swab test was uncomfortable.

When my turn came, a young suited and booted man, who I could only see the eyes of, through steamed goggles, led me into the smaller room. Here I as happy that no needles were involved. That was – until a roughly 12cm swab was tunnelled up my left nostril and then my right one. It seemed to last forever. It was probably closer to a second or two. After that, I felt relief that it was over. Then a second swab appeared. The medic in white said, “Say, ahhhh.” I was closer to saying, “ARGHHHHH!” My gag reflex made me throaty and horrible in sensation. It was a vile feeling. I left the room with a taste of something unrecognisable and utterly vile. I whipped my mask down and swigged a few needed gulps of water. Gerry and I were each handed a stamped certificate to say that we’d had the tests. Out we went, through the next temperature gates and over to customs, after filling in yet another form. After passing customs, we found our bags slowly spinning around the baggage carousel amongst many other suitcases. At least ten baggage carousels filled the great arrivals hall. We were the only two souls within the room. It was now close to 01:30 on Wednesday morning. We’d landed around 23:30 the previous day. After gripping our bags, we passed through the customs declaration channels, gone right up a cordoned pathway, up some escalators and then left over a bridge. A young girl sporting a full hazmat suit directed us the only possible way we could walk, forwards.

The path was a bridge, entirely sealed and led to some stairs on our right. Down we went and turned right. Gerry mentioned that it reminded him of the registration tents of a marathon run. After scanning another QR code, and filling another paper form, we sat down and awaited a bus or coach to Dongguan. All around us, many tables displayed towns within Guangzhou, cities around Guangdong and one sign for provinces beyond. Eventually, around 3am, a dozen or more fellow Dongguan-bounded passengers were marked outside. Considering Gerry had stopped someone taking a bottle of hand-sanitizer by accident, they were all lucky to be boarding. In fairness, it was placed next to the complimentary water bottles. What struck me about ot all, here we were, in a nation at the time, that had suffered thousands of deaths, tens of thousands of infected ill people and yet spirits were high, and nobody seemed worried.

The coach departed with an escort vehicle. For some unknown reason there was a beeping sound for some time. I imagine it was to do with the hazard lights being on. The coach slowed down around Machong Town and a half-sleepy me heard my number (2) and Gerry’s number (3) and went to depart. I managed to get off the coach. In actual fact it was everyone but numbers two and three. So, back onboard I went. Then, the coach started up again and away we went. The bleeping sound never relented. As the coach pulled off the highways to more local roads, we could see recently constructed barriers between gardens and walls of MDF and scaffolding. Eventually, the coach passed the Botanical Gardens, pulled left, and a few hundred metres, left again into West Lake Hotel. The escort car shot up the raise to the hotel at the top of the hill. We followed, slowed and then stopped. The doors opened. We departed. Hazmat suits everywhere. Here they carried our bags, checked us in with yet another form at 05:00. The actual cost was to be an eye-watering 450RMB a night. I was handed my room number. No key. Gerry was allocated a different floor and wing of the hotel. Off we went. At the fourth floor (in the UK, it’d be the third floor), I told Gerry I’ll see him soon, and off I went, a few doors down on the right. I stepped through the door into quarantine.

It begins.

This week in Manchester, little Britain and the world.

“It’s irresponsible for the Prime Minister and Health Sec to say they’ll only self-isolate for 7 days. The WHO say people can be infectious 14 days after symptoms stop.” – Dr Rosena Allin-Khan, Labour MP for Tooting/NHS hero: A&E Doctor

Mancunian people, whether workers or businesses have always been known for their spirit when faced with the terrible. Mancs, not manky mongrels. Through kindness and solidarity, Manchester, whether blue or red, or other, whether queer, straight, transgender, lesbian, gay and all the wonderful colours of the spectrum of sexuality have and will always show love to hate, love to fear, and togetherness in adversity. Yes, there are exceptions and every village as their idiot, but we don’t look down on that lot, we reason, we educate ‘em and we again show love.

So, NHS, you beautiful creation and wonderful giver of life and provider in strife, here’s the City of Manchester Etihad Stadium, council-owned and City-leased for you to use as you see fit. Do as you need, because you need and they need, more than we need. Cry Sis’? No crisis, the superheroes with their inadequate masks and their gowns weakened by cuts, are here fighting. They’re our front line and with them I feel fine. If anyone can save me, it won’t be Superman, Batman or the Avengers, it’ll be Doctors like Rosena Allin-Khan, in Tooting, or our boys and girls in blue (or whichever nursing colours they choose) in Wythy, and my place of birth Crumpsall and the numerous other trusts up and down these green and pleasant lands. But, they need us. They need our volunteers, they need our support and they need us to stay indoors. The longer we do this, the sooner we’re out. If you anyone out, don’t give them a clout, maintain a distance and shout, “Oi, get inside and don’t be snide.” Feel the rhythm, feel the ride? No time for a sneaky bobsleigh ride. Watch the tele’ instead. Or find yourself lucky with beeping at the bed. Don’t be misled, by Trump and his fools, or Boris and his tools, 14 days here, is better than 14 days under soil, feeding worms and all the bugs. Overhead, thoroughbred might be okay, but in their hospital beds, some won’t live, and that’s the thing that you can give. A chance. One little chance. Stay at home, like I said.

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Returning to China has been eye-opening. What’ve I seen? World class control. Top rate protection. No risks. This is the now, and not the beginning which obviously was a huge Alan Ball’s up. I’d rather be here than Britain, right now. That says a lot. I’d be home in a jiffy, if I felt it was safe enough to protect my family and friends. I feel I can’t offer much more than a mass clap for the NHS.

The clap for the NHS was wonderful. It gave hope and lifted spirits. It wasn’t the true support that the NHS needed, but it was as a national scale response to the superheroes both in the UK and beyond that are battling for our lives. Some are giving their own lives. The government dissection and eventual evaluation of what could have been done better has begun, and will continue throughout, but I think the time to reflect must be after. Not now. By all means, question now and help to make suggestions. What’s absolutely unforgivable is that this Conservative government do not care about the general population of Britain. They found money with consummate ease to ease the worries and support the masses. It seemed mostly to support the upper echelons and middle tier of society, with so many hidden support packages for business and industry. People, the working class mainly, may not have jobs to go to after all of this blows over or fades away. That’s on the assumption that they make it through this alive.

This government downsized our capacity for dealing with outbreaks. They made devastating cuts and prevented those in medical capacities from having access to adequate personal protection equipment. The matter of Brexit pressed on and the warnings of SARS-CoV-2 barely existed. Not that any rival party politics groups were waving warning flags either. Nor was the WHO. The Conservatives seem, on the surface, to be facing up to their mistakes of old, realising that the chasm-like depth of suffering was on their doorstep – and soon enough it was flooding in and around them, swirling and taking no prisoners.

COVID-19’s arrival comes on the back of decades of reductionism at the NHS. Many aspects of the NHS are under market control. Cash for care. Money for statistics. Insurance by stockpiling medical goods, undermines profit and gain. Why put things in boxes and let them go dusty?

Capitalism protected itself (in June, not now) in unparalleled ways during this exceptional time. Chancellor Rishi Sunak was pushed forwards with his cool and emotional responses. A temporary floatation of cash keeps many people feeding the industries essential to keeping an economy afloat. This impermanent flash of generosity may be short-lived. Does it protect newly self-employed staff? No. Those undertaking redundancy recently? No. Those on a zero-hours contract? No. The unemployed and those on disability? No. They can apply for Universal Credit, which was increased to £94.25, up about twenty quid in these harder than hard times. £377 per month may help you travel far enough to buy the last bag of pasta, or pay a water bill on time. If you’re self-employed you can get up to £2500 a month. Chancellor Rishi Sunak cited fraud as being a huge concern. These are hardly terms to discourage people from going outside looking for a bit of work on the quiet. How long will this go on?

Government grants, from state funds, are bailing out businesses in a period of unknown. Like the idea of herd immunity, it could well be the same as pissing into the wind. Not of much use. The big plus being that the workers of Britain will not experience hunger or poverty, for now.

Health Secretary, Matt Hancock, had already said he couldn’t live on £94.25 a week. Around £330 billion has been set aside for business. The unemployed have a ringfenced figure of £7 billion to enjoy amongst themselves – over time. We’re in this together – some less than others, some more than others, and many doing near nothing – and some doing nothing but getting paid for it. There’s no such thing as equality. None. The rewards seen by businesses aren’t meant for the working classes. In a nation divided by those susceptible by this COVID-19 disease, there are already people plagued by means-testing, heavy taxes, debt, student loans (hell, years ago, I’ve thought about suicide on that subject but never considered it – I couldn’t hurt anyone in my family or my friends), and so many crippling factors. Now a fairer government would say, okay, hey, this is bad, erm, let’s have X amount of the pot divided by the population number. Each payment will be weighted larger towards those with care costs, children, disability, assistance requirements etc. Those who own a house, have less outgoings, no travel or fuel costs, will get less. Those stuck overseas and unable to return will get X, Y and Z provided. What am I talking about? A fairy tale. Stabilise people and their minds, keep them indoors and protect each other. Not with this government…

To highlight the hate directed at the mis-leadership that is this government’s modern day Neville Chamberlain, Boris Johnson (better described by Stewart Lee as…), preoccupied with conserving their social order and trying to escape self-isolation a week early is getting death threats and utter abuse. As his chancellor supports those who earn more (the more you earn, the more you get support), Boris is locked away in Number Ten Downing Street. Health Secretary Matt Hancock and England’s Chief Medical Officer, Professor Chris Whitty are also isolating alone. They all tested positive for COVID-19. Each shown symptoms of the viral disease that treats its hosts to universalism, something the Tory hosts may never understand. The Tories don’t care about you. Boris didn’t receive much love either. Just many cheers of joy and a few death wishes too.

A twat is a twat, but nobody truly deserves death or illness for being that. We’re not Gods and we don’t deserve to hang each other on nooses. As disgusting as someone is, isn’t it more human to reason, debate, democratically talk sense to a thickie… if not then, we all deserve the end. That’s bleak. That’s horrible. I imagine somewhere his education and his upbringing wasn’t like yours or mine and that shaped him. By all means don’t feel sorry for him, but don’t default to being Adolf bleeding Hitler on him. Yes, Boris, has years of systemic life-reduction methods and decision in his tank, but does anyone have the right to respond with heinous distasteful emotional attacks on the man? Is anyone entitled to stab a man in the back on his bed of illness? His policies may target groups of people and favour the few, but deep down below that tuft of white mop-hair, he’s a human. Or at least a lizard-humanoid, because he ONLY needs 7 days of self-isolation.

Or, we could argue that illness and hate is deserved. His floundering and dithering government sat back on this COVID-19 outbreak too long before making a huge U-turn to take it on. Dawdling the message of herd immunity fell away for the delaying weaker policy of ‘please stay at home’ and struggling into an eventual negligence and incompetence, aside from the heart-warming handclap. Personally, I don’t respect faltering Boris. He lost my respect long ago as stumbling Mayor of London, and wallowing as other fools since then. I won’t be his fan. Luckily, I won’t be wishing he dies or gets ill. I will be wishing that this government wakes up and gets its act together. Britain, the UK, England, whatever, it cannot go alone. The world must act together. Pool resource. Put aside emotion and concentrate on this global issue. Mother nature has a great new way to make compost – or air pollution via cremations. COVID-19 isn’t to be defeated, but gently turned away and eradicated. Viruses, like governments, and civilisations can fade away. Humanity should not. But, it does need to adapt P.D.Q. (pretty damn quick).

Unluckily, Brazil’s top dog and general knobhead, posing president Jair Bolsonaro has laughed at and almost denied COVID-19 as the world struggles. He even threatened to sack his health minister and any experts critical of his regime handing. Brazil is at high risk.

Luckily, some nations are taking action. The National Health Commission of China will not dismiss a second wave of this disease outbreak. That’s why the borders of China were closed to foreigners, on the 28^th of March 2020. Around 10% of China’s so-called imported cases came from returning foreigners. As xenophobia and fear ramps up, China has called for calm. It also imposed a rule that allows one airline to go to one country, once a week. Posing the selfish question, how can I get to the UK in summer, if this carries on?!

“One thing I think the coronavirus crisis has already proved is that there really is such a thing as society.” – Prime Minister Boris Johnson, Twitter.

Luckily, COVID-19 doesn’t discriminate and isn’t corrupt.

Unluckily, the longer this goes on, the more our lives will change because of COVID-19.

Luckily, some nations are seeing drops in infections and deaths.

Unluckily, COVID-19 could be here for a while or mutate…

Luckily, Trump is taking U-turns and allowing states and other proper leaders to do a job.

Unluckily, Trump.

Luckily, Dyson and F1 are making ventilators, Brewdog are making hand gels, Santini (cycling jerseys) switched to making masks, and so many great stories. Trump is using the Korean War-era Defense Production Act to get General Motors producing items of use to the medical profession. Food banks, which shouldn’t exist in the first place, are being supported by major supermarkets.

Unluckily, many on the frontline of healthcare have died or are in isolation.

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The above image was made by SZ Blues member Waits.

Luckily, City & Utd came togetherand supported local foodbanks. #ACityUnited

Unluckily, Bugzy Malone’s boredom led to a crash. Get well soon.

Bastard of the week: McDonald’s asked for help from customers. This was only a week after Ronald McDonald House evicted a ten year old boy. NB: While the fast food company provides funding and organisational support, Ronald McDonald House Charities is an independent charity.

Luckily, many medics returning to fight against the outbreak. The NHS is testing more workers than ever before. #StayHomeSaveLives

As COVID-19 almost doubles every five days or so, it isn’t all doom and gloom. People are recovering. That’s key. Hope.

I’d like to leave you with this:

“There is no such thing as society.” – Margaret Thatcher, Prime Minister (U.K.), 1979-1990

Hey, Maggie, we’re about to really find out… look up from Dante’s Inferno and see how we get on.

Personal Protection Equipment

I keep getting asked about how to buy masks from China. I can’t help, I’m in quarantine. If you need any masks, give Maria at Unique Dongguan a shout on Skype (+86)18122819259, 370105612@qq.com, or #wechat for info or help. #covid19UK #covid19 – and take a look at: dgsali.com

I’m not gonna give up.

23/03/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

Sawasdeekhap / Namaste / Welcome!

Before the climb, we’d stopped in Danagyu, at a lodge on the right-hand side. It was busy. A family were playing cards. Kids were running around and one managed to hit both Livia and I with first her walking stick and second a snotty finger. I was fully aware of the coronavirus outbreak by now. It was by now February. Hygiene was on my conscience but this terrible toddler was not sharing my concern. Bogies smeared down my leg. I used soap and water to clean it away. Eventually a teenage girl came over and shuffled the toddler away. We’d already ordered pumpkin soup and momos now. Having seen the soon to be altogether contour lines on the map, our engines for walking needed some much needed fuel. One trekker’s bar wasn’t going to be adequate.

After reaching a waterfall tucked in a tight ravine, Livia went right along the road, and I went left up some steep steps. Srirang was just behind Livia, with his sore leg, yet he soldiered on and never gave in. Tough lad. After only a few steps, I started to see speedy little Himalayan squirrels and the view backwards of the peaks nearby to Manaslu was marvellous. Upwards was very much that. Up, up and away. After some crumbly steps, that could have been made of Lancashire cheese of apple crumble topping, I managed to reach the road, and cross straight over back onto the pathway. Here the green trees folded outwards ever so slightly, to show stacks of natural compost on the forest floor. The air had a damp natural earthy smell and occasional felled logs rotted alongside the trail. The track would mostly rise and do little of a fall. Soon enough the mud and dirt track became covered in frozen snow. Not the fluffy soft and easy to trudge through kind, but the solid mostly with a metre drop inwards should I find the bit unable to tolerate my weight, kind. And it seemed I was in for many steps up, and a few deep into the partially frozen snow. Heave. Heave. Heave.

The snow pretty much didn’t want to convey me and with every drop my boots, and the best part of my legs disappeared. Out came the crampons. Out came the determination. Onwards I went. My imagination enjoyed the peculiar eerie silence. I imagined packs of wolves, snow leopards and bears watching me go by. Not your ideal range of animals to picture you pass by, especially if one of them was very hungry, but here I was in the territory of nature, and damned if I was going to imagine Minecraft or a rock concert.

The pine trees shed patches of snow and melt water dripped all around me. Glorious rays of sunshine broke the canopy and occasionally I caught glimpses of mountain tops here and there. Then, a sudden crashing sound in the trees ahead, had me at full alertness. I froze solid as the iced floor around me. Silence resumed. Then a larger and louder thump and crunch. Something was in the trees ahead. I heard a racket and a commotion. Voices yelled from the canopy to my immediate left. The thuds and thumps were accompanied by a disturbance in the snow maybe a few hundred metres away. Then I spotted a monkey, Himalayan langur, springing up and down in the snow, swiftly from tree to tree across a small clearing. They didn’t seem too perturbed by the snow, but didn’t hang around either way. I tried to shoot them. My camera wasn’t quick enough though.

Throughout this journey, I had seen many mammals. These included Himalayan langurs, Assam macaques, Rhesus macaques, Irrawaddy squirrels, orange-bellied Himalayan squirrels, Himalayan striped squirrels, voles, Himalayan field mice, Himalayan pika, shrews, a variety of bats, and some wild boar, I’d never seen many animals in the snow. It was a privilege to enjoy the monkeys and hear them move over the forest. It was a welcome break from the constant in and out walking motions of the snow. I also had chance to reflect about the fall onto my walking stick which had gave the stick a slight bend, or three.

After crossing many streams carefully, over tiny little snow-covered bridges, and occasionally playing find the rock over the odd crossing point, I reached a stretched out chain bridge. Snowfall and heavy damage had ripped one end of the supports from its foundations. The two guard rails fanned out, practically useless. It wasn’t quite and Indiana Jones movie, but it looked far more precarious than comfort. The river flow was about five metres wide, pummeling steeply down to the River Marsyangdi many metres below in altiiude. I decided to chance my luck at a bridge further upstream. After 200 metres, I realised that this was the only bridge. I hadn’t seen one downstream either. Whilst I could hear the river nearby, I couldn’t see it and no alternative route evident. The flayed and flawed bridge was to be my point of movement. A way like no other.

So, off came the crampons, and then I positioned my rucksack tighter to my back. I stowed my walking sticks. I pulled out my thin winter gloves with extra grips (thanks Black Diamond) and I stepped through the first pocket of snow on the bridge. I tested the bridge for movement. First with a little weight and then applying all slowly, readied to dive into the snow to the side of the bridge. Then, I did a kind of half-hop. The bridge was surprisingly sturdy – a real testament to the Gurkha builders who had provided so many bridges across the country. From that, I leant and tested the sideways cable to my left, uphill and in appearance the least damage of the handrails. I turned square onto it. I placed my left hand over my right hand and never left any motion rightwards without one very firm hand on the rail. By the time I’d reached the centre of the bridge, the rail tilted upwards, almost as it should have been and all the snow had melted in the sunlight. I gently walked up to the other side and looked backwards. Stepping off the bridge was a relief. Then I peered left at the small landslips dotted along the river bank.

The fallen ground and occasional uprooted tree didn’t prove too much of a challenge. The trail banked left and into an open field, which led onto a rock-cobbled road. Each rock was jagged and unwelcoming. It had a Lord of The Rings feel to it. Wild, and otherworldly. Onwards, I plugged until reaching the Hotel Royal Garden, where I met Livia aftera few minutes. Here, I also met Shadow. Shadow wasn’t his name but for that day he would be my little shadow and follow us throughout the village of Timang. After a great lunch, Srirang joined us, and we checked in for the night, just 100 metres down the road. Ahead of us the weather looked bleak and unsettled. So, a Sherpa family welcomed us, and we dropped our bags into a room each. The Hotel Manaslu View Point had a view of Manalsu in the distance and the panoramic view in all directions was a clear sign that we were now in the Himalayas, proper. Timang (2630m) was about 400 metres higher than Danagyu (2200m). The air temperature was much more-icy here. Clouds floated over the mountains behind us, disguising hidden peaks and over the River Marsyangdi to the opposite side, occasional matchstick-looking pine trees, empty of leaves and needles, stood like wooden stakes in a cemetery. There looked to have been a nuclear blast over the valley. Even the ground appeared clear of life.

This village was both sinister and beautiful. Firstly, the crows, those often billed in horror movie birds, were everywhere. They made themselves known with sharp piercing cries and occasionally softer sounds. The Kāga (काग Nepali for crow or craven) here were not Carrion crows. These were bigger ravens, Corvus corax tibetanus, with long grey neck feathers. Light on their feathers gave a beautiful purple-blue iridescence. Amongst the pairs of ravens, Carrion crows moved and foraging by jackdaws, and other smaller birds like sparrows could be seen through the village. Now, the sinister, I described wasn’t too much about the crows…

One single storey building with a shop front on the right of the road gave me new heebie-jeebies. Outside the front a man swapped tyres on a jeep. At the side of this passengers from the jeep waited patiently. At the rear of the building in the garden, an animal pelt hung from a washing line. From a distance I couldn’t work out if it was red panda, a dog or something of similar size. I know that the rules in Nepal are extremely strict regarding hunting, but I could not for the life of me understand what it was. It was, in all probability, a goat – and certainly unwelcoming. And, not far from that pelt on the washing line, a dead crow was tied up by its neck, flying in the wind like a grim version of a child’s kite. I expected haunted hillbilly music and a narrative from an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

After a great dal baht, in front of a warm fireplace, we all departed for bed. The matchstick looking cluster of spiders in the toilets gave an appearance of buffalo pubic hair [you know what I mean!] – and they seemed to detect the cold too, nestling together like brush hair in the corners of the long cold toilet room.

After a good night’s sleep, a great omelette and some defrosted ice-water, we three departed, bidding our farewell to Shadow the dog and a variety of goat kids in the nursery nearby. The road headed out, skirting around the brow of the hills beside us, never quite leaving the river below. At Tanchok village it doubled back inwards, crossing a frozen stream before lurching back into the river valley below. It slid gently up to the crossroads at Koto before nestling its way into Chame (2700m), complete with signs for yet more hot springs. Monkeys had been sighted in the forest’s brow by the village of Tanchok, by Livia and I stood watching them for some time. Here the valley started to tighten up and appear much steeper than previous days.

Chame is a colourful place, but in February, the sun sets early, shrouded by mountainous ridges to the west. Here a dozen municipal buildings and hospitals can be found. Derelict military barracks stand to the village’s north. It is a town of about 1200 people. In winter it is quiet with many people heading to Kathmandu and Pokhara. There are signs of the April 2015 earthquake having struck here. There were also some very good small supply shops and chances to get some much needed fruit into our diet. We checked into the cosy New Tibet Hotel and Restaurant sandwiched between a brittle looking cliff face and the river’s east bank. We then had a wander around the village which seemed to be many scattered lodges along a kilometre of two. An upper level village to the west looked more modern and functional, but less touristic. There were the usual array of schools and public facilities with prayer flags visible all across the high points.

After the walk Livia tucked into her billionth bowl of rice pudding, and probably ordered one for the morning too. Seeing Livia eat rice pudding in a wolf/koala/bear hat was quite a frequent sight on the journey. I often had scrambled eggs, porridge and buckwheat bread of chapatti. Always with a milky coffee or tea. Several bank machines were available in the village but there was no internet and sporadic power cuts for the two nights that we stayed. There was even a roadblock on alert for any walkers from China! By now fear and panic about COVID-19 had spread up the road. I kept news that I had left China over two weeks before arriving there to myself. I’d heard Chame described as an often crowded place. We met only two other trekkers, both French and both walking solo (with a guide).

Our lodge was less than two minutes of walking from a lovely spot. The hot springs doubled up as an open air launderette. Livia and I washed our clothing in the warm flow of water, as local soldiers soaked up the minerals in the neighbouring swimming pool. The spring itself was a dull green bubbling hole with pipes jutting from it. Nothing exciting to the naked eye. The miracle of life and fresh water was surrounded by man-made concrete and exploitation. Still, it was a good place to wash my underpants. Bloody warm too. Later I scattered my clothes on the balcony and added some socks to a warm chimney to speed dry them in the fading sunshine. Night was soon rolling in, complete with starry skies and ice-inducing temperatures. To be continued…

On the I’d booked a flight between Bangkok Don Mueang International Airport and Shenzhen for April the 1^st. April Fool’s Day. Appropriately Thai Air Asia cancelled it yesterday. As I had used Trip.com to book it, I have to use Trip’s customer services. Flight FD596 is no more. On top of that, my visa expires here on April the 14^th. I have been told that to stay here, I need to have a letter from the UK Embassy to say that travel to my country of residence is not possible. The UK Embassy won’t give such a letter for British citizens traveling to China. Thailand’s Immigration won’t allow me to stay because I can currently fly to the U.K. There are flights to Guangzhou at drastically hyper-inflated prices but even they could be pulled. Trip.com’s phone numbers ring a little and then hang up, all three of them! Their email reply reads as follows:

“Due to the huge backlog of emails caused by Corona Virus pandemic, we are sincerely sorry that your email won’t be able to get reply as usual. It will be delayed but no later than 30 days. Kindly recommend to manage your ticket online or though APP.” – modern day example of a crappy auto-response from a customer disservice centre, March 2020.

I get that we’re in a global catastrophe and the world is going mad buying excessive amount of bog rolls and shutting borders, but when you haven’t got much cash, or hope to get around, and your head feels like it is going to explode if it doesn’t release the bubbling rage and worry inside. I even paid for new cycle lights to allow me to break out of my body, and fly away, like a bat out of hell… or at least peddle fast from stray dogs and monkeys now coming out from the temples and sanctuaries in search of food. Next I expect to see chameleons on sun loungers, well maybe not see them, but at least know they’re there when the fly numbers drop down. That’d be more amazing because as I am aware, there aren’t chameleons in Thailand, but with current world problems, maybe they’ll bounce back like other wildlife – especially now people are talking more about wildlife trade ending. Or, will this COVID-19 world hide a debate about climate change?

Still, worries aside, it could be worse. It could be much, much worse. I worry for others. I’ll survive and money I haven’t got will add to other money that I never had. You can’t repossess from a hobo, right? Especially one trapped in Thailand… trapped, with just two bottles of Vimto and two frozen portions of black pudding. Nope, it ain’t all that bad! Stay strong. Survive. Beyonce and her mates told you to.

“I’m a survivor (what), I’m not gon’ give up (what); I’m not gon’ stop (what), I’m gon’ work harder (what); I’m a survivor (what), I’m gonna make it (what); I will survive (what), keep on survivin’ (what)” Destiny’s Child’s song was covered by 2WEI.

Dear Boris.

14/03/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

Dear Boris Johnson,

Although I did not vote for you or your party, and I have a very dim view of you and your cohorts, I trust you’re not an entirely total buffoon. What others say about you and your actions, will define how you go down in history. Right now, there won’t be a state funeral like your idol Sir Winston Churchill. There won’t be any picture of you on any banknotes and schools won’t recall you well in history classes. You’ll not be remembered by foreign prisoners in Iran as a wonderful person, either.

“It is going to spread further and I must level with you, I must level with the British public: many more families are going to lose loved ones before their time.” – Boris Johnson, Prime Minister (March 2020)

Look across the world and you’ll see China saddling up to Italy in an effort to increase trade reduce the virus. There may or may not be help for China’s potential BRICS partner Iran. If there us, the bias in the western media has certainly silenced that. In fact it seems like the USA is doing its own thing, the UK is going rogue and solo – and all are avoiding a kind of Manhattan Project collaboration of the 21^st century. What’s your next move, Boris?

I guess as climate change is on the horizon and pollution is rife, we’ve ignored the needs of smaller and less powerful nations for long enough. Boris, could we be doing better? Could we be a big voice from our small islands and get the job done? Could we lead, equally, alongside others a charge on a white horse into this battle? Or should we sit back, and look after number one? This me, me, me attitude may be alright for panic buying toilet paper and pasta, but that won’t stem the tide. If the first wave comes, and we’re less than ready, how will a second wave or further waves be handled? You must step aside, just like Theresa May, and others before you, you’re not the shiny knife of leadership this once great nation needs. Think on your sins. There are too many of them. We need a wartime leader, and that’s why I believe in digging up the remains of Sir Winston Churchill and doing some work with fictional character Victor Frankenstein, because I have more faith in the dead and imaginary than you dear Boris.

Nations are human abstraction and now is the time for border reduction, sharing, and survival. The elderly and infirm are being placed at great risk – and the population beyond may reap the seeds that you seek to sew. Our common resource is the very earth, water and air we inhabit. As a species we have ploughed and devastated it. Through some togetherness, we could beat the virus and we could understand our fair Earth greater. We could use the momentum of togetherness to protect cultures, nature and water. Or, we could build walls, strip shelves and blame each other. How do you want to be remembered? We all make mistakes and we may all make decisions that aren’t ideal – but those who occupy the top tables, they’re the ones, specifically, you Boris, you’re the chosen elite. You can make the difference.

“ If we’re wrong, then nothing happens. We’ll go to jail. Peacefully. Quietly. We’ll enjoy it. But if we’re right, and we can stop this thing… Lenny… you will have saved the lives of millions of registered voters.” – Dr Peter Venkman, played by Bill Murray, Ghostbusters

So, do you pick up the phone, with COBR (Cabinet Office Briefing Rooms) and call other leaders, trying to get them all together to make a proper international crisis management centre? Or do, you tell everyone to carry on washing their hands and stating the bleeding obvious? Or, do you prove Andy Hayman (author of the non-fiction piece The Terrorist Hunters) right and slow all down? The United Nations System and other intergovernmental organisations need you to really think. Together we can be stronger. Without others, we will be an isolated nation, seen as rogue and inconsiderate to the WHO (World Heath Organisation). Forget arms control, energy and nuclear matters, and even financial trade. We’re no longer talking customs or law enforcement. Now we’re on about a threat so big to humanity. As a leader, this is your hour. As a species this is humanity’s hour to shine. This could be the cultural, educational and religious moment of moments, a once in a billion lifetimes opportunity to be revered globally, smashing political groupings and ideologies – but bringing all humanity together. Or, it could be another League of Nations, weakly fading away. Life will go on. But, will you and I be part of it? Well, as things stand you’re putting voters lives at serious risk, and on what advice? Well, at least we can’t gather too freely now.

Be strong, Boris. Pull your finger out. Pass on the job, if you’re not fit for purpose. Don’t be the donkey that leads the lambs into Dante’s Inferno.

Yours with absolutely zero respect – or as much respect as The Sun gave to Hillsborough stadium disaster victims,

Mr More Than Annoyed.

images stolen from B3TA.com – hopefully watermarked by their creators to save me a job…

Visit Kathmandu 2020.

11/03/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

Sawasdeekhap / Namaste / Welcome!

I’m sat here, in Thailand, writing an chomping away on a bag of makok. These fruits come from the Spondias Dulcis flowering plant. They’re sour, and pickled ever so slightly. The tough flesh makes it feel like a beastly olive. I’ve had this fruit in curries before, and always wondered what it was. Now, I know, I like makok. Oh. That’s erm, awkward. I like to eat… No I can’t finish that. Makok is very… No, not there either. The sour pickled green ball is yummy. That’ll have to do. I bet it’d make a mean dip if the chunky seeds were removed. Just don’t name the dip.

Finally, I have got round to my time in Nepal this year. 2020 has been marked as Visit Nepal 2020, a concerted effort by the Nepal government to get overseas and overland visitors to bring their hard-earned money into the country – and experience ever-lasting moments that will tease visitors back time and time again.

The landscapes from valley to valley within Nepal can give you sensory overload. My experiences across two visits gave me a bombardment of sounds, sights, tastes and colours. The moment I left Nepal the first time, I wanted to return. This applied to the second time – and has since applied to this third time of visiting.

I touched down in Kathmandu, Nepal once more. This trek was to take in some of the Annapurna Circuit region. With prior knowledge of snowfall being heavy, I purchased some rusty looking blue crampons in the twisting narrow streets of Thamel. I’d enjoyed a great breakfast at the Northfield Café and a good night of sleep at the Northfield Hotel. I was excited and happy to be back in Nepal. My plan was simple. Go for a wander. No aims, no worries. Some passes and some mountains can’t always be seen. It is, what it is. Bumping into Srirang at The Café With No Name, he revealed his plan to trek the Annapurna Circuit with Livia, from Hungary. We’d all met last year trekking the Everest Base Camp route. I had no problems about joining them on the walk this time around. Srirang looked much leaner than last year. He must have been training hard in his native Mumbai city.

Armed with a great salad, and a wonderful pumpkin soup, I tucked into my Panini and enjoyed the feel of this wonderful backstreet café. A ginnel is the route to the small and atmospheric café. All the profits of The Café With No Name are sent to the charity Our Sansar – which benefits street children and brings them into education. Every great coffee or beer you have, benefits someone. That’s maybe why I decided to visit this place every lunchtime I had spend in Thamel, this time round. You can find it down a small alleyway. Look for a chalkboard when you face from the central supermarket looking in the direction of Purple Haze Bar. When you reach the bar, swing left and somewhere by Merry Hotel, you’ll find this treasure of a café. Expect to feel at home on the crate-made tables, and cosy furniture. There’re books to exchange and lots of things to make the eyes wander. The staff are great and so heartwarmingly friendly, it makes you want to live in Kathmandu. Perhaps the world’s dustiest city needs great retreats. This is one such wonder. Expect to feel a great musical vibe and return time and time again.

At Northfield café, that first morning, I sat with a beaming smile on my face. I enjoyed a good hearty breakfast, with the masala omelette filling my belly, alongside a strong coffee. The staff went to turn on the heater, but I was enjoying the cool air. Cold air sharpens the senses. It keeps your wits sharp. It helps me to focus. Heat makes me sleepy and sluggish. I sat watching people drift up and down the street outside. Few shops were open. Shutters sank and sagged to the ground like dull metallic cold blinds to the world beyond them. A few clear western people walked by. Some were spiritualists, hippies long off the bandwagon of Thamel’s once famous Freak Street, trekkers, climbers, cultural tourists and no doubt a few who reside in Nepal for work. There’d be some amongst them feeling enlightened, some caught in the ambience and many sponging up the vast cultures around them.

Looking at the headwear of those passing by, there were knitted ski hats, traditional and regional ethnic pieces, and an equally diverse array of jackets. Some combined with various pieces of formal office wear and others with striking multi-coloured knitted socks. Evidence of around 125 different people and 123 languages mingled with tourism and those from elsewhere. It all belonged perfectly. A tapestry of diversity in a wealth of colour. This intertwined nation coexists with such ease. Poverty and adversity sit only around the corner from the luxury cocktail bars and the bright lights of pocket-sized night clubs.

The tarmac road created less than two years ago, now looks swollen, crumbled and churned. Bits stand out here and there. A vintage Royal Enfield motorbike tackled potholes and narrowly missed a static scout mannequin outside of a store proudly displaying Gurkha knives, the kukri. Khukuri World Store was a trove of gifts, memorabilia, and shiny things hoping to lure people inside. The scout model held out a Nepal flag, its beautiful triangles coated with the sun and moon, a combination of blue, red and white like no other flag. Next door to this knife and survival gear shop, a sprawl of 100% natural cashmere and yak wool piles spilled over two steps. The Friendly Pashmina Shop had so much stock, it was practically leant against the White Mountain Outdoors shop further along the row. Above which was a White Water Rafting Co., somewhere beneath layers of dust and soot. Dusty raincoats, sleeping bags and long puffy down jackets hung still, half admitting that they’ll never find a buyer anytime soon in that state. A ginnel (tiny pathway) into Nana Hotel looked uninviting between a sodden empty crates and Nepalaya Money Exchange. The shutters of Al Noor Gems revealed little indication of what treasures lay within. I guess even Indiana Jones would be put off by the rusting bulk of metal. The possibility of tetanus for the sake of some fool’s gold wouldn’t be a good gamble.

A hairdresser and the ATM cash machine tussled for space over a few cubic metres as the morning footfall started to increase. School children dressed in an array of uniforms drifted in small clusters or singularly up and down the road. A hooded man, slimmer than a twig, drifted amongst the crowd playing the sarangi (a string instrument) and trying to sell many of the same pieces from his sagging shoulder bag. Along the very same road, powerlines and cables draped the floor as workers fed neat replacements overhead, clearing years of cluttered dangerous cables. Trybal Handmade’s shop’s lights flickered in reply. A call for help and stable feeding. New life, please.

Inside the glass-window front of the restaurant and a little over the shoulder, a family sat enjoying their foods and drinks. The grandmother of the group made gratified noises as two younger women, perhaps in their forties, jostled food around their plates. Three young children ate quietly with great respect for their surroundings. They talked infrequently, warmly and softly, amongst themselves in what I believe was Urdu. I don’t know the language but I recognised one or two words. A smiling waitress with big beaming eyes came over to them and served them tea. The well-kept long hair spilled from her headscarf far beyond the rear of her waist. Her hand glittered with earthly coloured stones, natural and modest yet bold and fitting. The Northfield Café itself had warm earthly colours dominate the walls, and even a real tree trunk shot up through two floors and out of the roof offering a canopy of green amongst the buildings.

Effigies of door gods stand by the glass entrance doors. A piece of A4 paper is taped onto the inside of the door. It boasts of WARM DINING inside, without skimping on the use of capital letters. By now my omelette had vanished and a second cup of coffee had found its way into my hand. Three men joined the large respectful group. The conversation remained tender and calm. The younger children remained as attentive as I did to my coffee.

Two staircases within Northfield Café stretched upwards. Two lobbies spilled outwards giving an aura of space. The energy of the room had a seamless flow. My eyes strayed around the room enjoying the care and attention each member of staff gave to newly seated customers. Each patron matched the calm of the room. The staff both blended in and simultaneously made themselves available. Hidden servants of the spiritual rooms of Northfield Café. The very essence of the symbiosis within the walls. Just like the draw of Kathmandu, I was excited to be back in the Northfield Café once again.

Sticking to food, we visited Gilingche, a Tibetan restaurant, far too late in the day and ate far too much. I had to take a doggy bag home – and fed a dog. I’ve visited here a few times and always enjoyed it.

Following two days in Kathmandu and a few purchases, Srirang and I took a tiny taxi (enough room for knees by your ears), two bags and a squashed driver to the new bus station. Here we purchased our bus tickets to Pokhara. And with a ticket for 17:00 and being told it would take around 13 hours, we departed just after 15:00 and arrived less than 9 hours later. The bus had spent an hour loading with apples on an industrial estate within Kathmandu too. It stopped at the Dal Bhat Power restaurant, around half way – and the scenic route had weaved perilous mountains throughout the foothills of the Kathmandu valley and the lower Himalayan range all the way to the reasonably flat Pokhara area.

Visit Nepal 2020 has progressively barred visa on arrivals to many nations. China, as Covid-19 origin, copped for it first. Three missing Nepali guides and four Korean trekkers succumbed to a terrible avalanche that also saw hundreds of people rescued from the Annapurna Base Camp region. In 2014 alone, 40 people were killed on the Annapurna circuit in one sever snowstorm. Nature rules these ranges. Man (and woman) is a guest. On top of this Donald Trump and USA struck Iran’s top military brass with missiles, putting many under the impression that perhaps a global war would follow. Even days after I landed the tragic news of eight Indian tourists died in a room, probably from carbon monoxide poisoning. With a lack of flights, and mobility – or will to travel during a time of pandemic, Nepal’s tourism, imports and other support lines have shrunk. Hotels, trekking lodges, guides and other such avenues offered to overseas clients have receded faster than my hairline (in the last decade). The demand from these avenues to agriculture and industry will slim faster than a diet pill overdose. An already struggling country is facing yet more challenge. I witnessed Kathmandu on my return from Pokhara and the Annapurna regions. It was akin to that of a ghost town. Nothing much happening, but worry and fear. And on top of all this (and more), many have mocked the artistic interpretation of the yeti drawn up for the Visit Nepal 2020 campaign.

Rhino deaths, Nepal may struggle even further. Over half of the money, earned overseas by Nepali workers, comes from Qatar (think World Cup construction), the U.A.E., Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Bahrain. As the virus hits that region, Nepal has taken actions to keep its people safe and on Nepali soil. It was no surprise to see that Visit Nepal 2020 has been postponed until 2022. I hope to return for Visit Nepal 2022 – and maybe I’ll pop back in 2021, if time permits. But right now, humanity is battling. We must pull together.

But, first a cup of tea…

Happy New Year: MMXX

01/01/202001/01/2020oyster28catcher (JRA)1 Comment

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

MMXX is here. It sounds like a rapper. This year is a leap year. This all assumes that you and I follow the Gregorian calender – and the Common Era (CE: previously known as AD, year of the lord and all that). Other calenders and timelines are available.The Byzantine calendar is somewhere between the years 7528 and 7529. China’s calender is much more confusing. The years 己亥年 (Earth Pig) 4716 or 4656 to 庚子年 (Metal Rat) 4717 or 4657 with us. Ghostsbusters will return as a franchise, following the original two movies.

A new decade begins with hope (and fireworks, bushfires and other shameful carry ons from 2019). The Holocene calendar says 12020 but Unix time mentions the numbers 1577836800 – 1609459199. I’m going to keep 2020 in mind. It is far more simple. However, when I got to Nepal on the 18th of January, I will be landing in Kathmandu in the Nepali year of 2076 (according to Bikram Sambat’s calendar).

The U.K. is scheduled to leave the E.U. on the last day of this month. I will be relegated from a citizen of Europe to just a British person. It’s coming home was played at London’s slightly smoky firework displays (although the BBC coated over the smoke cloud) and this year will see England get knocked out at the UEFA Euro 2020 tournament staged across E.U. countries, and the U.K. Perhaps some Irish kids will open their 1996 time capsuleand pull out a copy of that song by The Lightning Seeds just in time for the football tournament. Or, it can also be used at Tokyo’s 2020 Olympics…

This year NASA will aim to launch a mission to Mars to check out if it is habitable. Perhaps as the probe returns to Earth, it will find Earth is no longer habitable, as climate change and November’s Presidential Election may have swallowed up the last dregs of breathable air for humanity. However, Norway is paying Liberia to stop cutting down trees. A new hope?

As we enter the 2020s, keep in mind Morpheus from The Matrix said to Neo, “in the early 21st century mankind united in celebration when they created Artificial Intelligence”. Half-Life 2 is set around now, as was monster battling robot war movie Pacific Rim. Writer Ralph Peters penned that an alliance of Japan, South Africa, and the Arab Islamic Union, a confederation of militant Islamic states would be at war with the U.S.A. His novel, penned in 1991 was named The War in 2020. Snore-inducing dragon movie Reign of Fire also gave this year a dramatic post-apocalyptic science fantasy setting. Terrahawks by Gerry Anderson and co, saw Earth defending itself. We should also beware the Knights of God, a fascist religious order with origins in 1987 television. But don’t worry too much Johnny Mnemonic is set next year. And in 2022, the gold from Fort Knox that Goldfinger said was useless, should be okay – the same year Geostorm is expected to hit. By 2029, the T-800 and a T-1000 will head back to kill either Sarah or John Connor, this giving a bodybuilder some work that will eventually lead him to be the 38th Governor of California. And finally, according to Data, the reunification of Ireland is achieved in 2024., Star Trek: The Next Generation (“The High Ground“). So, this decade isn’t all that bad!

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

Sir IDS follows Sir Jimmy Savile

28/12/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

How do, alright?

Here we go again… firstly Jimmy Savile was a vile and disgusting man who manipulated life and entertainment whilst preying on the vulnerable. Using his image was not an easy choice but it does carry an appropriate image. This man gained a knighthood in an Honours list selected by our state. Others have too. For less and for more. The Honours list is seen as a bit of a joke. Politicians and entertainers are put on a level field with those who do great things for others. Selfless acts placed alongside profiteers and pioneers of their own self-interest.

Do not underestimate the determination of a quiet man. That was his party slogan, because Iain, Duncan and Smith, is and was a dull guy. Iain Duncan Smith celebrated as he passed welfare cuts to society’s most vulnerable people. This Conservative MP has previously claimed breakfasts as part of his expenses totalling around £39. School pupils, under his government were allocated just 7 pence. 557 children could have eaten something for the cost of his breakfast. Didn’t he know Gregg’s bakery do a bacon barm and coffee for about two quid. I doubt this Edinburgh-born former military man would ever be seen drinking a mug of coffee in Gregg’s with the small people.

IDS was caught out lying about his university education at the University of Perugia he later was found to have dropped out of the Università per Stranieri. Later his website claimed fictious qualifications from the Dunchurch College of Management. IDS has been eternally sceptical about the UK’s membership of the dictatorship-like EU (it lets terrorists in), and was supported by Margaret Thatcher, the original Darth Vader of politics. IDS sat with Americans following the September 11^th terrorist attacks and backed the invasion of Iraq ( a nation that has dropped in literacy, food availability and domestic fuel usage since the allied invasion). The quiet man turned up the volume in Iraq. Still it kept his wife (the ostensibly impoverished daughter of the 5th Baron Cottesloe) in good money (see Betsygate).

Following his demise as Prime Minister, Iain Duncan Smith seemed to be doing something right. He soon became the Chairman of the Social Justice Policy Group in 2005. It’s reports Breakdown Britain and Breakthrough Britain. Breakdown Britain were noted by the European Court of Justice, as “unfit for a modern democracy” and “verging on frighteningly authoritarian”. Very 1984 indeed. Whilst he re-joined the political foreground he noted a worrying rise in Anti-Semitism in Britain, but on the other hand, called for more British involvement in Iraq.

In 2010, Iain Duncan Smith ended employer’s rights to use mandatory pensionable retirement at the age of 65. On one hand, good. On another, it would mean people working for longer, with fewer jobs on the market. So, to suit longer lives, people need to work longer. In the same year Universal Credit arrived. This was a man who could live on £53 a week, presumably £39 for a single breakfast was a weekly treat. But then, he would have been too busy battling human rights laws and forcing people into work for welfare – and taking wealthy pensioners’ winter payments back without an actual way to do so. But then, he never was good with numbers.

Under his watch, Iain Duncan Smith has seen a huge increase in the use of foodbanks. Non-governmental organisations and charities. Even Oxfam questioned why the seventh wealthiest nation on the planet is struggling to feed its people. And on the 2012 United Nations’ International Day of Persons with Disabilities, people on benefits were told they could lose their support. These people with disabilities or illnesses ranging from cancer to paralysis or mental health would be forced by the UK government to work for free. This announcement came in December, to make for a lovely Christmas and New Year ahead. Personal Independence Payment would work alongside the Department of Work & Pensions, to ensure that being vulnerable could and would have meant death – around 2000 people died. Work your way out of poverty!

“We won’t lift you out of poverty by simply transferring taxpayers’ money to you. With our help, you’ll work your way out of poverty.” – Iain Duncan Smith, Conservative Party Conference, Manchester, October 2012

In 2016, Iain Duncan Smith quit the government. He didn’t like the “government’s austerity programme for balancing the books on the backs of the poor and vulnerable”. Presumably, it was because someone else had found a bigger and more aggressive axe than he could hold. But, forget all these minor problems, because in 2020, Iain Duncan Smith will be knighted for the for political and public service. He joins the late Sir Jimmy Savile (deceased so he is stripped of the title after death), [former Sir] Fred Goodwin, Rolf Harris, spies Anthony Blunt and Kim Philby, Sir Philip Green, Robert Mugabe (honorary knighthood, 1994-2008), Romanian Dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu (honorary knighthood 1978-the day before his execution on Christmas Day, 1989), Jean Else, television entertainer Stuart Hall, Benito Mussolini (honorary knighthood in 1923), Denis McShane, Bishop Donald Shearman, convicted child abuse photographer Chief Fire Officer Francis John Sheehan and Donald Tsang [曾荫权]. There are others including former Prime Minister David Cameron’s advisor Patrick Rock. Every single name in that list is inappropriate – and sadly many were not discovered for years, so who will join the notorious Honours list of shame next? Enjoy your honours.

Ta’ra for now!

Happy New Year NHS

26/12/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)2 Comments

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

Happy Christmas and merry new year to all, especially if you’re working for the state-owned National Health Service (NHS)…

“Out of intense complexities, intense simplicities emerge.” – Sir Winston Churchill

No Time To Die is the name of the new James Bond movie. The greying secret agent is retired. Britain is on the edge of an abyss. This reflects the mood around Brexit and the new Conservative government to some degree. My biggest worry is the NHS. Why? Well, O was born in Crumpsall Hospital in northern Manchester. It is now known as North Manchester General Hospital and has swallowed many satellite and neighbouring services. My younger brother Paul was born in St Mary’s Hospital, now part of the Manchester Royal Infirmary and University Hospital. Aside from that in Manchester, there remains Wythenshawe Hospital, a few walk-in centres and many health clinics. Dentists are out there but the waiting lists and pool of choice is limited.

There are so many people that complain about NHS waiting lists, the quality of care and the quality of aftercare. The NHS is an ugly state. It has been there for many people throughout the years offering a safe gateway into life – and one for departure from this life. It has shown me a leg fracture, bacterial infections from bites and helped me to stay inoculated. It has reinforced my immune systems, like many other people and kept my eyes in working order. During our junior years it has ensured that we all have the right access to care, that many people around the world cannot imagine. I wonder how many people take advantage or overlook this wonderful service. It can’t be taken for granted, yet many do just that.

The Conservative governments of old privatised many industries and denationalised many services. Profit always over community. Social care shrank under every Conservative government and not surprisingly people suffered. Financial despair piled onto an already overwhelmed mental healthcare network. Now, many could argue that the NHS mental health network is a collection of scattered national loose threads, waiting to be blown away by the next passing wind. Every link added is an example of tragic failure.

Typhoon Johnson is here. The vulnerable are not his concern. Status quo: an existing state of affairs which means more of the same. How things stand will be austerity and graveness as per the last decade of self-denial and scarcity given to a nation divided in more ways than one. Dividing people on issues of immigration and Brexit has won his party power. The foreigners and those who come to the UK for sanctuary are apparently to blame. Small numbers in a big pond, escalated to sell newspapers and destroy what little harmony in multiculturalism has been sewn over the decades. The tapestry is torn open to take plenty from an economy and ensure the few rich get ever richer and those at the bottom of the food chain remain just that.

Damian Green MP has announced plans for an insurance-based healthcare system. Nicky Morgan announced 50,000 new nurses (but it should take a decade), and that the government does not have a plan to stop swathes of NHS nurses leaving at present. Boris the Butcher Johnson started the Brexit campaign in front of a red bus with a slogan about taking back £350 a week from EU funding to be spent on NHS funding. Will there be any NHS left to receive this bullshit figure? Probably not. There are campaigns and investigations underway with a disturbing amount of strength to say that the NHS will be flogged. In 2018/19, almost two thirds of NHS jobs were farmed out. Ambulance service staff in Worcestershire are will be replaced by E-zec Medical Transport staff in April, according to numerous sources. Savage spending cuts instigated under David Cameron as Prime Minister in 2010 have kept on going. Many senior Conservative MPs have made profit from various sale of NHS aspects and deals. Conflict and interest? Just ask Dominic Cummings. Or smoke it all away.

Not content with shuffling Premier League football around, even Amazon are cashing in on our wanted data. The NHS has many examples of outsourced failures. There’s nothing like malnutrition and dehydration when you go to hospital! Mitie, a massive capitalist cleaning organisation spent £111 million to buy a home care division. Five years later it sold it to Apposite Capital for just £2. Yes, two lousy pounds. They blamed the minimum wage and local authorities for causing them losses. Serco, Allied Healthcare, Circle, Viapath, Arriva, Care UK, Horizon Health Choices, BMI Healthcare, Virgin Care, Capita, Concordia Health, Vocare, Coperforma, Greenbrook, and other such companies head a list of bastards threatening or damaging the NHS. 40 new hospitals were promised by Boris Johnson, but none are financially sound.

Oh, and as the landslide General Election winners crack on… The government is looking at ways to axe current environmental protection laws. Workers rights? They’re up for the chop too. Merry Christmas.

Your Christmas Gifts & Presents:

This year I have made a donation to Come Together Community in particular sponsoring my colleagues Gerry and James as they attempted and completed the gruelling Dongguan Marathon. Both are no strangers to distance runs having completed dozens of half-marathons and a few full marathons between them. Come Together Community (CTC) was set up to assist three local charities. They are Lanjing Ling (LJL) – 蓝晶灵, Zhuhai Autism Society (ZAS) – 珠海市自闭症办会 and the Charity promotion Association of Zhuhai (CPAZ) – 珠海市爱心促进会. Over the last five years CTC has raised and donated money both legally and transparently. It’s won awards too. Hundreds of underprivileged children and orphans around Zhuhai city in Guangdong province have benefited, as have their staff and supporters. CTC has a continual relationship supporting some of society’s most vulnerable people. Some of the events to raise funds include music events and much more. If you interested in donating, sponsoring or becoming a volunteer, click their website here. My second donation will go to Classroom in the Clouds, in expectation that I can hand drop some books in Nepal when I visit in January and February.

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

An impulsive and egotistical dictator?

10/12/201910/12/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

Is Boris Johnson closer to Churchill or that of Adolf Hitler?

One was an impulsive and egotistical dictator who would not allow anyone to stand against him. The other is Adolf Hitler. There are endless reasons (my own post) to oust Boris Johnson. I explained a few before. Now is as good time as any to carry on… let’s use the time-honoured bulletpoint format, because my time is limited – or I am lazy.

ATOS
120,000 preventable deaths since 2010
Pensioners pushed into poverty – and unable to stay warm in winter.
A rise in children growing up in abject poverty conditions. Tax credits have been chopped.
Schools have had their budgets tightened.
Surge in hate crime.
NHS hospitals at breaking point – including a child sleeping on a hospital floor.
Flying on a private jet domestically despite a declared climate crisis.
Homelessness on the rise – and many are ex-forces or children!
A widening of an already large gulf allowing people onto the housing market. Just rent – or look for one of their 200,000 promised houses under construction, of which zero were built following their 2015 manifesto.
Forcing a customs border in the Irish Sea.Worker and consumer rights are being depleted.
What mental health care did this government boost? It has receded faster than my hair.
Postal voter? Not this time. Expat? Vote by proxy. Tax-paying EU citizen in the UK? Sorry, we can’t accept your vote.

Boris Johnson has been writing lies for year in the Telegraph. He has always feared a federal superstate in the E.U. This bastard lambasted single mothers. This absolute crook landed Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe, likely to be fully innocent in jail, in Iran, on spy charges. This fool has avoided question and answer sessions and cancelled on numerous appearances. He is selectively bending information and feeding the public disinformation and lies. He closed down parliament and is trying to impose new laws to ebb away our constitutional principle of parliamentary sovereignty. Isn’t that something that happened to a certain Weimar Republic in the 1930s?

Boris Johnson leads a party up against the wall with numerous accusations of Islamophobia. Is that what we really need right now? As Britain’s communities tussle and struggle against extremism and lack of opportunity, the vulnerable and lost souls of almost every religion will find someone with time to hate. The EHRC equalities watchdog have a job to do now. In fact his position of authority and his party tried to oust the Windrush generation. His party to intend to update the Human Rights Act – something that means exiting it, with just Belarus to accompany us outside that European club.

One of his own party members, and past Prime Minister John Major has unified with former Labour PM Tony Blair to sling Johnson out. As Johnson campaigns on ensuring Brexit goes ahead, he’s increasingly sounding more and more like someone possessed by the dark side in Star Wars. He blames Jeremy Corbyn and co for laughing at the public’s choice to vote a marginal referendum win in favour of an exit. Mussolini would be proud. He preaches to those who criticise Donald Trump for building a wall on the Mexican border. Yet, he is looking to divide the UK from Europe on a similar scale. The age old far of us and them is here and now.

Though, Boris Johnson, is the face amongst many MPs that are buffoonery on show, there is probably a very dark room with someone pulling strings. The enjoyable face of Boris bumbling and breaking all in his path is there to get the job done. Deep in the pits of the Conservative chambers and overlords will be where jeopardy and malice sit. That’s where the decisions to fire at will, or grind and slam people downwards, ever down, will come from. This would explain why keeping Johnson off air, saves him doing more damage – because as we have seen increasingly, a camera and a microphone allow Boris ample chance to ridicule himself. Banter he tries, lies and contradictions he shows. He pushes Brexit to be done. Game over. Move on. He can’t even justify any benefits of doing so, such is the lost cause that he promotes.

Boris Johnson and his Tory cronies even ripped off Dr Rosena Allin-Khan’s #ElectionActually video. I wouldn’t be surprised by anything that happens betwen now and the General Election on the 12th of December. It won’t be a happy Christmas for many…

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

Pinochet, Mandela & Corbyn went into a bar…

10/12/201910/12/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

“At last we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi. At last we will have revenge.” Darth Maul – Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace

If you read newspapers such as The Sun, The Telegraph and The Daily Mail, you may have noticed a theme. Obviously, they serve the right wing of politics more than the left. In turn they influence mainstream media – and often they are backed by the BBC – a national service and institution rife with bias. It usually goes something like this: Jeremy Corbyn loves Hamas; Jeremy Corbyn hates Jews; Jeremy Corbyn likes the IRA; Jeremy Corbyn is friends with Hezbollah; Jeremy Corbyn ate my hamster. To many in the press and the established media, Jeremy Corbyn is a terrorist sympathiser. The same press may have spun a rhetoric of peace-loving Saudi Arabia with absolutely no mention of their use of British arms against civilians. News is replaced by opinion all too often. People read and watch it.

“People who dish out anti-Semitic poison need to understand: you do not do it in my name” – Jeremy Corbyn, BBC News, 4 August 2018

Terrorists usually have a reason for being nasty bastards. They’re often fighting for their ideals and their freedom. Sometimes they go overseas and inflict the worst of evils upon their chosen enemy. Often there is no clear black and white reasoning. The areas that those labelled as terrorists can be grey and unclear. Can a one-sided view be applied? Can we really just say that we oppose something or support something? What if one area overlaps the other? Che Guerava was okay, a little, right? Karl Marx was Jewish yet Corbyn likes him… how does that work?

The Conservative Party of today love slinging shit at Labour’s leader Jeremy Corbyn. They openly accept that General Pinochet and Margaret Thatcher was an acceptable friendship. They even rallied against his war crime convictions. A spot of Conservative whitewashing and overlooking of Nelson Mandela’s ANC because they were terrorists in the eyes of the Conservatives. Jeremy Corbyn and one-time Prime Minister Gordon Brown are known to have stood against apartheid. The Conservatives sent junior David Cameron (again a future Prime Minister) and others on a jolly piss-up to a fragmented South Africa. They offered nothing supportive and today they know little better. Perhaps they still wear their ‘Hang Nelson Mandela’ badges in private for old times’ sake?

If you oppose dropping bombs, suddenly you’re a terrorist sympathiser. Is talking with historically and aggressively anti-semitic organizations Hezbollah and Hamas so far-fetched? They must be engaged if any peace process or dispute can be brought to a conclusion. Obi-Wan Kenobe impersonator Jeremy Corbyn is against Britain’s nuclear deterrent Trident. That’s understandable if you prefer peace and love, over weaponry. Also, imagine the funding that would be made available for social and public services. Noodle munching Jeremy Corbyn may not be a warmongering wager of destruction, but he does seem to listen. He’s even entertained the idea that homeopathy needs more research. He acknowledges Cuba’s flaws – and those of Cuban President Fidel Castro, but he supports more international integration and commitment to global ties. And, Jeremy Corbyn is hit with libel, for no good reason, other than to tarnish his name – which the papers did give a later retraction. I mean, who actually watches the Queen’s speech these days, and who cares about if a leader of the opposition watches the speech?! One to watch, I guess.

“The death of Osama bin Laden was a tragedy.” – David Cameron, Conservative Party conference, 7/10/2015

The word terrorist has terror inside it for a reason. Terror invokes fear. Fear creates a fight or flight mechanism – and often the fight is in words or manipulation of words to influence people. The word terrorist is so strong that it makes us switch off. We only think of grim and horrid events. The September 11^th attacks on New York and the Pentagon are some of the instant images. Such horror and fright as recent London Bridge attacks and pain. We no longer consider that one man’s terrorist may well be another man’s freedom fighter.

Manchester is no stranger to terrorism. The IRA detonated a bomb in June 1996, four years after a series of dangerous bombs. We received a refurbished shopping centre and it brought our city much closer together. The biggest bomb detonated in Great Britain since World War II ranked third in terms of economic loss. Thankfully nobody died. Around 212 people were injured physically and more psychologically. Russia played Germany at Old Trafford the next day. Manchester’s resilience was tested. Life went on. The IRA regretted causing injury. The day itself was horrible and fear gripped the city. Panic spread. As my family and I jumped on a train out of the city, a sparkling mushroom cloud hovered over the city. There was no wireless internet and mobile phones were few and far between. Car alarms rang through the shattered air and the sound of the blast still filled my head. We were all worried, not because of the bomb, but because we wanted to know where my Gran was. We’d been due to meet less than a mile from where the blast had happened. Thankfully Gran was at home safe and sound. In 1975 the Provisional IRA also bombed Lewis’s department store. The Troubles have passed their worst days, but these dangerous times could bring them back. Hate is growing. We must act against it.

On the 22^nd of May 2017, I woke up to find news that Manchester had been attacked and many people were dead or injured. I cried. My head filled with dread. Little by little news emerged of the senseless and radical disgrace. More than 800 people faced hospital treatment. 22 innocent and beautiful lives were taken. They were all out at the Manchester Arena to enjoy music and arts, with Ariana Grande performing. From horror and shock, what followed was nothing short of pure love and care. Manchester found its heart torn open and agony its company, yet people from far and wide came forwards with love and support. Shelters, taxis, residents, hotels, temples and more opened their doors. The Muslim Council of Britain condemned the attacks. People listened and acted calmly on the whole. A five-fold increase in anti-Muslim hate crimes followed for a month but largely Manchester came together slowly and surely. Manchester – a City United.

“You cannot pursue peace by a cycle of violence” – Jeremy Corbyn, BBC News, 14 August 2018

“Freedom fighters do not need to terrorise a population into submission,” former U.S. President Ronald Reagan told the American people in a 1986 Radio Address to the Nation. In that same realm of thought, the media and news reporters don’t need to sling so much shit and accusations of terrorism sympathy about potential future leaders? Isn’t sitting down with the other side, or all concerned groups a way to understand? Don’t we need more dialogue to stop airstrikes on hospitals in far off lands? Didn’t we as a nation have Sir Winston Churchill speak bolding about fighting on beaches, in our streets and never ever giving up? Is guerrilla warfare justifiable and objective if you have a cause and belief? Or should you submit to those who walk over you? Should we question who is the real terrorist? Who defines them?

“Roof it again. Batten down. Dig in. Drink out of tin. Know the scullery cold, a latch, a door-bar, forged tongs and a grate.” – Lightenings, a poem by Seamus Heaney (read by Mr Mack to our secondary school class at Reddish Vale Technology College after the bombing in Manchester – to show that whilst some people can do bad things, the great things need more time in the eye of the people)

Language is a powerful thing – and with the power of language we must be accountable and responsible. There is no need for hurling manure in this day and age. It is cheap and populist. It is divisive and causes acrimony. If you’re going to represent the people, at least do it fairly. Using their language of fear is a terror in itself.

“No, not death: birth.” – The Satanic Verses – a novel by Salman Rushdie.

So, is Jeremy Corbyn really the enemy? I won’t preach. I’ll let you think.

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

The Red Blue (or is it a Blue Red?)

05/12/201905/12/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

78531392_582334829206983_7948421672325873664_n 你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste

I’ve never interviewed and election candidate before. I’ve never really given any questions to any political representative unless you count pinging a tweet at President Trump in anger.

Being located in China and taking into account the eight-hour difference, I finally pinned down Brahma Mohanty. Had I have been clever enough, we could have discussed politics during summer in depth over ice cream at Ginger’s Emporium in Affleck’s Palace, Manchester. Back then the world was a different landscape and Brahma wasn’t due to stand as a Labour party representative. Bizarrely, I did feel and tell him that’s where his future will be if he so wants it. So, here we are at the last broadcast (of the day).

Isn’t politics boring?

Brahma shakes his head. He knows my question is tongue in cheek, yet he comes back with a dismissive answer like a knife to my jugular, “In many ways football and politics can be the same. Both can be complex and dramatic. We can be perplexed. When things work, we can be exhilarated, and I think it something that we can all be passionate about. If we don’t have a say it affects us all in our everyday lives. Whether it is accessing the best healthcare or public transport – or the economy affecting pricing on everyday things and even the cost of a football game ticket.”

I need a bit of an education. Is Brexit worth worrying about?

“Just as how these are turbulent times for Manchester City on the pitch, it is the same within British politics,” Brahma has tailored his answer to catch my interest. Off he goes again, “Now is the time to get involved and the stakes couldn’t be any higher, in terms of this election. The results will determine how Brexit is resolved. There could be a crash out of the EU with a hard Brexit. There could be a gentle yet painful Brexit with a deal that is favourable to few. Perhaps, a renegotiation that protects our workers and our rights – with a final say on the matter can be agreed. I believe Labour can offer this.”

Brahma is blue City fan. He’s also red (for Labour). I’ve heard City fans say that the vote the Conservative party because they’re blue. Politics is a contentious domain. Was choosing to represent the Labour party a difficult choice?

“Not at all,” Brahma confidently swats the question a swift reply. He continues, “Since my parents came here in the 1970s, they have voted in every election that they have been able to vote in. Now my parents weren’t necessarily politicos but they always identified more with Labour. Labour’s position on inclusivity, respecting and advocating a multicultural society gave my parents, as Indian immigrants, a voice. Britain back then wasn’t always a great place to be in but they felt that the Labour party were for them, more so then other party groups.”

So, it came as a natural selection to stand with Labour?

Brahma beams with pride, “My family have had a longstanding involvement with the NHS, which as you know was created by Labour. Commitment to values of equality for all, whether within education, housing or healthcare were followed by my family. That has been influenced upon me deeply by my family. Supporting the Labour party when I was first eligible to vote allowed me to be in touch with society in a very inclusive way. I grew up in a region of the world where the Labour party has always been very well represented. Manchester has a great history tied to Labour’s roots and the left-wing side of politics.”

How confident are you right now?

“I’m confident that I am going out there now,” Brahma replies, “giving a positive message about that I and the Labour Party have to offer, and offering the people of my potential constituency and also across the country in marginal seats a positive progressive vision in contrast to what we’ve had to put up with in terms of austerity and the Conservative Party for almost a decade. I’m confident that this message is getting out there to our people. Obviously, we won’t know until the final polling results next week.”

What difference can you make?

wx_camera_1533826817200 “In terms of difference of what I can make,” Brahma’s eyes lock on mine, deeply showing his passion in his words, “I will advocate for the policies I’ve mentioned before. We need a much more strongly and robustly supported NHS – to ensure that everyone has the best access at the point of need. Further investment into public transport, will enhance connectivity, and improve logistics whilst assisting to combat climate change. Less cars will mean less fuel and less carbon emissions – but for that we must have an efficient public transport system that isn’t seen as grimy, unreliable and aged.”

Why did you choose to set a course into the world of politics?

“Drawing on all my personal experiences,” Brahma shuffles in his seat, dropping words from his soul with confidence, “whether, it was growing up in and around Greater Manchester, my involvement within Labour and in terms of overcoming barriers and obstacles, which I’ve had to encounter quite a lot. Not just in terms as a person of a different ethnicity, but also with regards to my disability and mental health issues. TV shows such as The Last Leg and London 2012’s great Paralympic games have really swayed people’s opinions and moved us away from the term disability to realise that everyone with a disability have real genuine abilities to shine. Whilst these things may have prevented certain times of my education and career, I want to draw on my personal experience to lead and set an example by applying it to my role within the Labour party team. I want to demonstrate that anything is possible. People don’t need to be held back. Nothing is impossible with our own powerful minds.”

What are your beliefs in terms of the NHS?

P70821-144016 “As I have mentioned about the NHS, it obviously needs more than a lick of paint,” Brahma states. He pauses before carrying on, “It needs a greater level of funding to ensure that we can maintain a high standard of care and assistance. Despite a decade of under this awful austerity-driven government, the NHS is still regarded as great institution domestically and overseas. It is often cited as one of the best systems in the world – if not the best healthcare system on Earth. As a Labour candidate and the Labour movement, we want to ensure that this is always the case. It cannot be privatised and sold off, to make needless profits. We’re proud of the NHS legacy – and want future generations to have the support and fallback of the NHS with them from birth to death. It makes Britain great.”

And how do you feel about the hotbed that is the railways?

hdr “Railway networks need improving to allow people to get from A to B. Our commitment to combating climate change, means we need less cars on the road and with that less carbon emissions from fossil fuels. An improved transit system such as national railways or tramlines within cities, gives people the chance to make use of an efficient system of transport. That’s the bedrock of what we believe in, in terms of improving public transport.”

For the current and potential students out there, may I ask your views on tuition fees?

Brahma’s educated answer follows, “Scrapping tuition fees stops people from being put off by further education. You shouldn’t be stopped from learning because you can’t afford to attend university. Let our people in Britain pursue their degrees and careers that they wish to. Do we want an enhanced talent pool in our country?”

Can a Mancunian truly represent people from a completely different region?

olympic celebration 2012 (26) “As a Mancunian, I can bring the spirit of never say die, hardworking determination and grit, and I suppose politics is like the current Man City team, international, diverse and going out there each week wearing the badge and colours in pride. The last decade has been the most successful period for City. I can take example from that. You don’t necessarily have to have been born in a place or from the area to advocate the best for the people there. We’re all people at the end of the day. Manchester has the People’s History Museum – a kind of de facto unofficial museum of the Labour party and the Labour movement. Not far up the road in Rochdale, we have the birthplace of the Cooperative movement. I believe that there is a museum there too. Manchester and the industrial past have been a hotbed of socialism. That naturally influenced upon me. Like the industrial revolution, Manchester’s reach has been global – and doesn’t seek to impose itself unfairly.

There are 650 seats in the House of Commons. That’s 650 possible MP positions. Why Surrey Heath?

“Coming into an area like Surrey Heath, with a fresh pair of eyes can be very beneficial, “Braham affirms. “Being able to draw on my own experiences from my time working and living away from Manchester, I can apply this to the role. Just like in a sports team, each woman, man or youth player brings a different set of skills and talents – whether international or locally-born, they all sit under one banner representing their team with pride. And I’m not just talking Manchester City! This could easily be that of England – in rugby or football terms, amongst a whole host of teams.

326 seats are needed for a majority party to assume a government. With the last few elections leading to coalition governments, do Labour have a chance for a majority party government? How do you view the opposition?

“In terms of the opposition, I’m unhappy with what I see in terms of a decade of austerity that has really affected British society. Homelessness is on the rise, armed force members – past and present, lack real support, young people can’t afford to get onto the property ladder, more people are renting than ever before, or even still living at home with parents. There’s an increased use of foodbanks. This climate of austerity has led us to where we are. Do we want to be here?

The ill-feeling created by austerity is, I believe, what drove people to vote for Brexit. This conception that it was immigrants from within the EU and beyond were to blame for issues domestically, when in fact, it was as a result of Conservative-led austerity, in coalition with the Liberal Democrats. The terrible thing with the Brexit is not only has it impacted on the U.K.’s economy, the value of the pound sliding, but it has created an uncertain job market. Businesses are feeling the instability. It has created divisions and tensions. In the last three and half years, hate crime has increased, whether racist, anti-Semitism, homophobic, transphobia, Islamophobia, or other abuses. Brexit has unleashed a lot of bad characters, looking to put their views upon the majority of us – giving a footing for the far right. Do we really want to lose our neighbourhoods to hate?

I feel that the opposition should be held accountable for these divides and the rise of hate. I hold them responsible for what we have right now. An era of tension and division that has now led us to have a General Election, at this time when most of Britain could be better suited to enjoying Christmas – but under such circumstances, we’re hopping outside in the cold weather to cast votes. Simply put, the country is at a crossroads. We are in a period of uncertainty. ”

In what is a safe seat (historically) do you feel you have that extra sparkle to really challenge the established MP?

“Do I have that extra sparkle? I’m under no illusions that this is and always been a very safe and stable Conservative seat since its creation,” Brahma straightens up his body. He is now looking very serious. “I focus on the best possible message that I can provide, which is a positive progressive message as an alternative to the austerity-driven policies like those offered by the Conservative party, like figures such as Michael Gove have been at the foreground promoting – and indeed Surrey Heath, like much of the country was divided upon Brexit, so I’m offering a progressive view on that. I want to avoid a focus on appeasing those who voted for Brexit, or those who seek to revoke Article 50 whilst ignoring the concerns of those who voted for Brexit. The Labour party is committed to supporting the 100%. What we’re saying is, that we’re unhappy with the deal that has been carried back by Boris Johnson from the EU, which offers no assurances on the economy, business, workers’ rights, or job protection. What we’re saying, if we get into power, we want to renegotiate the deal with the EU. Once that has been done, we want to do what we believe, the most democratic thing of all – and put that information and ultimately the decision to the British people. Some may say that we have already voted on this matter, and that was the end of that. In some respects, yes, I can understand people feeling that way but at the same time, none of us could put our hands on our hearts and say that even now, we knew exactly what Brexit will or has meant. The referendum needed clarity and clear discussion. In 2016, did we have the right information? Given that the picture and the landscape of the Brexit decision has changed many, many times. Many of those who have backed a no deal have flipped sides. Many of those who voted for Brexit have changed their minds. The processes have been complex and unclear to many. I don’t think that it is unfair or irrational to say that the British people should have the final say upon our future following our negotiations because this is something that is going to affect our people in the here and now – and for future generations.

Individuals must be registered to vote by midnight twelve working days before polling day. That point has now passed. I Does voting really matter?

“I think it is absolutely essential to vote now,” Brahma’s head is full of ice, yet I can sense his belly is full of fire. He resumes, “Those who can vote, must vote. As I have stated before, this General Election is because of Brexit. It has been almost a century since we had an election of this kind in December! Brexit is probably the biggest event to affect this country since the end of the Second World War. The effects will be felt by the British people for years to come and it will have an impact not only British society but on Britain’s standing in the world. It is absolutely imperative that of you have a view on this matter – and you’re eligible to vote, that you cast your vote. Obviously, I’d hope that they would vote for the Labour party, but it is more important to vote on this matter knowing that by not doing so, you’ll be losing your say on Brexit, the NHS, the future of transport within the UK, housing, or the homelessness crisis. Voting is such an important part of the democratic process. It is one that many people have fought for and died over. All around the world people still continue to do so. It is vital to be part of that process – especially now as we reach a very marked point in the road for Britain’s place in the world.”

Just to be clear, I personally assigned a proxy vote via my mother in Manchester.

Much is being made of the power held by younger voters. Can younger voters make a difference to their regions?

“This is the first time that those born after 2000 will get a chance to vote. This will affect their futures more than anyone else. Cast your votes. Listen to the debates from all sides. It is so important that younger people embrace politics. Get involved.”

SAMSUNG CSC

Finally, do you have any further comments to make?

“It is vital that people vote. The key issue is Brexit. That’s why we’re having a General Election on a cold winter’s day. Just like the last General Election, people must have their say. Whilst some party groups say that will get Brexit done or conclude the matter, it is worth noting that the Conservatives have had three Prime Ministers since the referendum and are no closer to resolving the impasse one way or another. Only the Labour party is offering a viable proposal to this. At the same time, our policies are far more than the NHS. We have focuses on the NHS, improving public transport, looking after our elderly communities, scrapping tuition fees and so on.”

Brahma can see that my attention needs a kickstart. He glibly closes with a statement, “Politics is just like football. It has highs and lows. It has moments that we will remember for a lifetime and there are times that leave us completely stunned. Just like Vincent Kompany’s goal against Leicester City last season, or Aguero’s last minute winner against QPR in 2011/12, you can feel such highs in politics as well. It only works with involvement and togetherness – making that contribution. People must be involved. I support progressive values with the Labour party. We must fight for the many and not just the few. As I always say, one of our great sayings within the labour movement, by the strength of our common endeavour we achieve more than we do alone. That underlies any team sports, just like at City. Yes, some has come due to investment, but investment alone won’t create a team. Everybody has played an important role in the club, behind the scenes and across the field – and that’s how Labour must be. We need a team for all.”

Andrew Marr, I am not. Thank you kindly for your time Brahma Mohanty – and best of luck for Election Day 2019.

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

POP GOES THE #GETGOVEOUT

19/11/201919/11/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

POP goes the weasel! Or, in my case POP went my right calf. As I stumbled to the ground in agony, I knew the night’s game of football was over. I barely played five minutes. Even with a warm-up, a gentle jog to the game and adequate hydration, something went wrong. My foot hit the deck in a way that caused my ankle and calf some shock. The result was the rear of my calf muscle belly was electrically charged with pain. That was around 9pm last night. More than 17 hours have passed – and I still cannot curl my toes or stand properly. There is visible swelling and no amount of hot water [Chinese medicine?] can cure this.

Playing back the moment that it happened, I’d suddenly changed direction in my run and accelerated which felt good until that POP. The grade of muscle tear is ranked as somewhere between a grade one and a grade two. It could mean a few days of being on crutches, or a few weeks. It will mean recovery in around one to six weeks. I won’t be returning to sports too soon and will need some physiotherapist guidance as to how to recover progressively and prevent a further tear.

For now, the tears in my eyes are mostly caused by the application of Wong To Yik. This balm is a Woodlock Oil, although I’m still not entirely sure what that actually is. It has a mild initial heat upon application but that rapidly warms up into something akin to fire. Any evaporated fumes usually burn everywhere they come into contact with. Handwashing is needed to prevent future shock when touching sensitive regions. Don’t apply it and then go and urinate guys! For a few days, I have the Murray’s FC physiotherapy centre’s crutches. No weight-bearing is allowable. Rest is a must.

My body is fixing itself through mature collagen scar formation. This will take around 6 weeks to build up. Soon, I’ll need to do exercises to help lengthen, orientate and stretch my new scar tissues. Neurodynamic mobilisations sound amazing. What are they? I don’t have a clue. Hopefully, the day where I can walk without a limp will arrive sooner rather than later. In the meantime, resistance loaded exercises will remain a thought. There will be little concentric (upwards) or eccentric movement (downwards). One day I’ll be running a high speed (for me), with some power, proprioception and agility (if possible). Only then can I consider a return to football.

Wong To Yik is wonderful. It’s an external analgesic made of Camphor (10%), Turpentine Oil (12%), Menthol (16%) and Methyl Salicylate C₈H₈O₃ (50%). The remaining 12% is a mystery but I read somewhere that there is an inactive ingredient in Lavender Oil and dāngguī (当归; female ginseng). It seems to warm the muscles – but makes Original Mint Source shower gel seem tame when in contact with hypersensitive regions. Wong To Yik strips away skin in those areas, so do take care…

I started writing the above last Wednesday, then was distracted by mid-term exams, a school trip and a shedload of hopping.

Pro Chemnitz neo-Nazis may like Paypal but my recent dealings with eBay and Paypal have been far from idyllic. How any company can accidentally double charge you fees is beyond me. After I made a manual payment, a week later an automatic amount of the same was taken. I complained to one and the other but neither replied with clarity. Timeframes and rules, with lots of small print gets automatically thrown at you, or they hold your money – despite you providing the required information, and hide behind nameless auto-responses time and time again. I’d imagine that Paypal is too busy protecting their Saxony-based right-wing extremists than to deal with little old me. Online shop, eBay Inc. are probably equally busy rigging their system so that you can only use Paypal or finding ever-decreasing ways to talk to their customers. It seems that only automatons are within eBay corp. French-born, Persian-named American Pierre Omidyar had started something amazing and useful for all. A website for selling second-hand goods – almost called Echo Bay sprang onto the world wide web in 1998 and has remained there ever since. With assets now valued at US$22.819 billion, the global corporation has an equally diluted take on customer services – but they don’t allow Nazi paraphernalia, firearms, tobacco, alcohol or uranium – so they aren’t pure evil. Eve Walmart allow some of those items.

Concluding this post of randomness, I’d like to say best of luck to my good friend Brahma Mihir Mohanty as he stands for a seat in Surrey Heath – with the Labour Party. H’es up against the quite capable Green Party candidate Sharon Galliford and Alasdair Pinkerton of the Liberal Democrats. There’s also UK Independence Party (UKIP)’s David Roe and the Tory Party are backing Michael Gove.

Labour has never scored more than 21.4% in the General Elections for the seat of Surrey heath. Since 1997, the seat has only had a Conservative holder: Nick Hawkins or Michael Gove. The Liberal Democrats had higher vote numbers than Labour until 2015. The electorate of around 78,453 are likely to turn out in a similar figure to the wards 70% or so houses that are detached or semi-detached (apparently the second highest in the South East, behind the New Forest ward). It is a great logistical ward, well connected to London and the world via Heathrow Airport – and the M3/M4 motorways. Aldershot and Sandhurst, Farnborough and Blackbushe Airport give it a military and a private airfield link or two. It is an area that registered jobseekers are noted as being ‘significantly lower than the national average’. So, who is who in the competition for Surrey Heath’s hot seat?

Councillor Galliford represents the Lightwater ward and is dedicated to her job as a voice for her community. Sharon Galliford’s declaration of interests reveals she works ad-hoc for Dept of Clinical Psychology, Royal Holloway University of London and sits on a few well-intentioned boards within the same field. Sharon Galliford’s twitter (242 followers & 444 following) has a modest self-description advising, “I am a Sound- Healer, Transpersonal Psychologist, Astrologer and Educator.” Nobody can argue that educators are bad, right? Her 2580 tweets can be publicly seen alongside a personal website. Although an update is needed on the website because the next New Moon astrology gathering is Monday 14th May 2018… Never-the-less Sharon Galliford looks like a good representative of the people – with clear beliefs and conscience. In 2017, Sharon did not win the 2017 General Election seat despite gaining the 2017 Surrey County Council local election seat. Her experience will serve her well.

Now, in the Liberal Democrat’s corner we have Alasdair Pinkerton. The surname remains me of a detective agency started by a Scotsman of the same family name. Okay, solid name with more than 15,500 tweets to his name. He is followed by 4621 twitter-folk and follows 2259 so he’s clued up on social media. The academic candidate is clear with his views #GetGoveOut #GetBrexitGone, so no fence sitting a touch of fight about him. I had a brief scoot around and could see many claims and a video that all boast Alasdair is an academic, but it took me a Facebook page about section to reveal smarty-pants Al to be an Associate Professor of Geopolitics, within the Royal Holloway University of London. An educator again. His specialist areas are British Overseas Territories – so should I send a few Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China (HKSAR) questions now or later? Or, he may be busy replacing torn down Liberal Democrat placards (It is really immature to tear down these, but they are unsightly and bright orange). Mr Pinkerton is on a debut stand for a seat at this coming election.

David Roe, well, he has stood on the 2016 and 2019 Woking local elections. In 2017 he was Egham’s candidate for the 2017 Surrey County Council local election. Mohammed Bashir, Lib Dem (1,088) beat both Mohammed Ali and David Roe, UKIP (345) in 2012 for a Woking council seat. Little else is known about Mr Roe. UKIP usually have that feel. All or nothing.

Born in an NHS hospital, and raised in a care home for a short time, having been Graeme Logan, was soon to renamed by his Labour-supporting family, as Michael Gove. Scholarships allowed him to study at the independent Robert Gordon’s College. He even supported Labour. He even took part on strikes over union recognition and representation. Soon after he was licking the bottom of Robert Murdoch, and comparing the Good Friday agreement to “the appeasement of the Nazis in the 1930s”. Somewhere in the 1990s the journalist went from raw intelligence writer to history rewriter and political commentator – and here began dangerous comments and public mistakes. The Tories had already told him that he was “insufficiently political” and “insufficiently Conservative” – and journalism seemed to favour him. A wordsmith with a weapon. He backed Tony Blair, when others walked away. He worshiped and continues to worship Thatcher.

Since the Tory Party have been in power, Michael Gove has bumbled from Secretary of State for Education (2010–2014) – approving Creationist schools and a catalogue of controversies. Then, as Chief Whip of the House of Commons (2014–2015) he was stuck in a toilet. Next, his role was the Secretary of State for Justice (2015–2016) where happenings were criminal. New Prime Minister Theresa May axed him. His journey soon found the role of Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (2017–2019). He introduced a ban on bee-harming pesticides. At last something great! Actually, his animal welfare work was ground-breaking but he refused to declare a climate emergency – which parliament passed soon after. He went head to head with Boris Johnson for leader of the Conservatives and as such the next Prime Minister following Theresa May’s stand-down. Now, Michael Gove is Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, which means he is the Duke of Lancaster – which means he looks after the estates and portfolios of the Royal Family. In a nutshell, a glorified caretaker’s job.

So, as the billionaire-owned press slashes and chops away at the Labour party, Liberal Democrats and all the other runners for seats, remember some clear facts: positive publicity is paid for by the privileged few. They don’t want you sat at their tables or in their bars. Well, if you’re up for some change and you’re down Surrey Heath way, vote Brahma Mihir Mohanty – and if you need a good reason to back my friend, I’ll tell you this. He is genuine. He is true. He is decent and human – and I know that he values the NHS, etc. I’m sure that you can ask him many important questions in person – and from that understand that he will represent you very passionately and openly. Failing that you can talk about a variety of sports.

Good luck to my friend. Have a great campaign – and, erm, talk with your regional committee about an independent interview sometime…

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

IT HAS BEEN A WHILE.

07/11/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

It has been a while.

This Sunday sees Manchester City face a fantastic team followed by a near-insufferable fanbase (and media?). At a ground with where City have suffered an intolerable period without victory, City will see no benefit in VAR, because like Old Trafford, home of The World’s Greatest Football Team^TM, there are no video screens. So far, VAR and video refereeing across the Premier League has been a complete sensation and triumph over errors, giving not a single moment of controversy, some grounds without video screens may add to the scepticism that something dark and sinister is afoot…

Is it the fans or the media? They’ve won two Champions Leagues since 204/05. Domestically, the League Cup came thrice since the new millennium – and the FA Cup twice in that time, but many fans make it sound like their trophy cabinet is bursting with shiny stuff. There’s an inane sense of entitlement that even Man Utd’s fans could never have matched at their peak. And if you mention it, suddenly you’re jealous. There’s always an accusation that City fans are scared of Liverpool ‘being back where they belong’. Liverpool dominated the 1980s, fair play. I was born in 1982. By the time I had pubic hairs, Liverpool FC had faded away. If you get chance to get a word in between the accusations of City’s plastic fanbase and the empty seats, it is a minor miracle. But, on the other hand, there are many good, modest and honest fans.

Gerrard slipped, Suarez cried, the Scousers dream has… yeah there are chants. That’s football. It doesn’t mean City care too much for Liverpool. Our obsessive rivals are wallowing in midtable and so laughable in their improvement on managers, year on year, that Ole ‘he scored in ’99, don’t you know?’ is going to be offered the keys of freedom to the Etihad Stadium (car park). Maybe, if and when, Liverpool F.C. lift the Premier League trophy, then many clubs will lose their banter material. Many will have to eat a big baked humble pie. Rivalry is good for the game, but sometimes these new rivalries are driven by such a few people, that they make little sense. Unless of course some fans attack a team’s bus. I mean, that’s fair game, for being a bit wary of a team’s fanbase.

Not that you can say there is a conspiracy without being accused of conspiring to consider conspiracies as the norm. There certainly is a bias in the media, dominated often by former Liverpool and Man Utd stars of old. City pundits are out there, but certainly occupied few of the ‘slag City off as often as you can’ rolls, that say Danny Mills continues to enjoy.

The BBC’s football arm of propaganda includes Mark Lawrenson. His expertise and commentary are totally weighted towards his former club Liverpool FC. Thankfully Alan Hansen has been sent to a farm somewhere. The so called big 6 clubs of the Premier League always get a bias over the other 14, but many favour Liverpool FC, probably attached to what they grew up on, in a way like me still wanting to drink Vimto and eat Weetabix.

Stats will tell you anything, and if you’re selective enough. The Premier League big six? Well, Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool, Man Utd, Tottenham Hotspur and Everton, of course. They’re the six ever-present Premier League clubs. The longest club that has appeared in the top flight? Wolves, Everton, Burnley or Aston Villa featured in 1888/89. Arsenal (last title win 2003–04) have an unbroken attendance to the top flight of English football stretching back to 1919/20. Aston Villa (last one 1980–81) have more top flight titles than City or Chelsea. Everton (last one 1986–87) have more than Aston Villa. There are 7 Premier League clubs that have never won a topflight title – each with wonderful histories and moments. Sheffield Utd boast their solo topflight title from 1897/98. There are clubs outside the topflight with equally wonderfully and less wonderful histories. Bury F.C. need saving. Football is unforgiving in its evolution and costly to maintain. The media need to balance their act, but populism in sport has always been the way. The likes of Leicester City, Leeds Utd, Portsmouth and Newcastle Utd, all have had ups and downs. They’re seen as lesser fashionable than say Liverpool FC, or Man Utd, whose titles and winners can be seen throughout sporting media, coaching and the wider world. There’s more demand for Dwight Yorke at a speaking event than say Terry Cooke. No disrespect intended. It is just more people would have seen Dwight than Terry at the moments that matter. Proper football fans care about more than numbers and titles.

On TV and in the newspapers (not counting The Sun because it is utter toilet paper), there’s a clear framing effect, based on the way something is presented to the media viewers or readers. On top of that the confirmation bias, shows examples and skips over other bits to favour the favourite. With everyone aware of a few great moments in recent years, played over and over again, then it could be said that Liverpool FC have benefitted from a clear availability heuristic. There are few scapegoats within the Liverpool FC hierarchy as Klopp has eliminated slippers like Gerrard and made the squad his own. Jonathan Pearce said once that Liverpool were Champions-elect – in January 2019. The season was long, and City just managed to edge the title into their favour by May, despite being 8 points adrift at one stage. Had Liverpool finished on 97 any other season, but the 2018/19 and 2017/18 seasons, they’d have won the Premier League. It was a fantastic title race.

I have no problem with Liverpool FC as a spectacle. They’re a great team to watch play. They like attacking and they have more than capable defenders. There is a fair bit of youth to their squad and from time to time a local lad breaks through and you hear the all familiar noise that upsets dogs and cats across Merseyside. Klopp, as manager, is pure entertainment – and he has a charisma to match. He can be modest, direct and funny. He often tells it how it is. I’m sure Klopp recognises some fans see the Premier League as moving from an ABU to an ABL (Anyone but Liverpool) – but he also respects the media enough to give them their soundbites and shiny stories. Perhaps, Pep Guardiola could have avoided saying that Mane is a diver. Let the papers find their own words.

Are Liverpool favoured by every neutral team? Well, Everton and Man Utd won’t be backing the red side of Anfield. Manchester City, neither. That does leave the other 16 Premer League clubs, 72 football league clubs and a whole host of non-league teams (such as City of Liverpool FC, who contended Liverpool FC’s attempts to copyright their city’s name). Of course, there are exceptions. Football fans can be fickle when it comes to backing teams that actually don’t concern them. I remember reading comments, about evacuating the whole of northern England if Liverpool were to win the Premier League. Banter was being fired left, right and centre. The sky blues of Manchester have edged Liverpool FC out of the title race twice in recent seasons. Liverpool FC’s pressure of not winning a top-flight title since Kenny Dalglish’s side lifted it in 1989/90 hasn’t helped. There is weight. There is expectation. Just as City ended 44 years without the top league crown in 2012, there is so much tension.

City’s record at Anfield is abysmal. To some extent it is the new Highbury or Old Trafford of the age. A place where City have failed to win for so many years. Over a decade, in fact. In 2003, City’s charges featured Nicolas Anelka and Distin, alongside Robbie Fowler for Kevin Keegan’s laser blue City. El-Hadji Diouf and Milan Baros featured for the home team. The soon to depart super Kevin Horlock shored up midfield alongside Ali Benarbia. Peter Schmeichel finished the game in goal, his penultimate game for the travelling Maine Road outfit. Anelka bagged both goals, winning the game against his former employers in the final added minute. The home support of 44,220 were treated to a gritty game that City just about edged.

Are Ederson and Davild Silva out? Maybe. That won’t be an excuse though. Whatever the outcome, I hope that the real fans, the real diehards and those who avoid the bitterness and pettiness come out on top, win, draw, or lose. For me Liverpool FC aren’t a true rival, they’re just someone we need to compete with. Even if Manchester and Liverpool are still pissing in the Manchester Ship Canal or sending kayaks up the Mersey for a laugh, the two cities aren’t that far apart, musically, socially and historically. It all beats going to London.

I appreciate Liverpool FC as a footballing team. We now live in an age where any good football team is branded as buying success or not achieving anything despite being a terrific squad. Appreciation of football doesn’t need to come with a discrediting comment. Jürgen Klopp’s brand of heavy metal football is solid and entertaining. There’s a hunger and desire to win at Anfield. City, as Champions of England, travel as underdogs but very much capable of springing a result. This Sunday’s game will be either one hell of a game for one team – or a dull 0-0 draw.

C’MON CITY!

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

Walking on eggshells

10/10/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

“I don’t pretend to be a gentleman, but I am entitled to paint what I see.” – Interview tapes with G B Cotton & Frank Mullineux (undated) L. S. Lowry – A Biography by Shelley Rhode

Free Pussy Riots was the best banner that I ever witnessed at a Man City game. The cardboard boos shown to UEFA were a close second. Is protesting and politics at home in sport?

“Hey John, how can you be so ignorant to China and H.K.?” – someone asked me this today, in China. And like anything else political here, I replied with, “This is not the place to have this discussion and I am not prepared to carry on.” I also wanted to say that I refuse to influence people in China – and I do. It is not my job to meddle in politics and the policy of China. Of course, I have an opinion. I have beliefs but I also have the wisdom to know that you cannot tickle a tiger’s balls and expect to get away with it.

So, NBA has gone down a bit in China due to comments on social media. Politics and sports cannot be mixed these days – and certainly not on mediums such as Twitter. At a Philadelphia Sixers game versus Guangzhou Loong Lions, a fan and his wife were ejected for shouting their views on Hong Kong. The Wells Fargo Center court is located in as Francis Scott Key said, “the land of the free”. The American national anthem features something similar, right? Well, sport, has a long-winded and painful view of politics and freedom. To cut a story short, great moments of history such as the 1968 black power movement stand out in history – because they signify defiance and stand for belief. It wasn’t part of the running material and matchday programme. Tommie Smith and John Carlos have statues on the San Jose State University campus grounds. They joined in the 2008 Global Human Rights Torch Relay which ran in parallel to the Beijing Olympics torch.

Protests affect more people than you often know. They send little and big ripples, visible and invisible, left, right and centre. One NBA tweet, by Houston Rockets’ coach Daryl Morey, who retracted it, has been slammed by President Trump.

In China, Chinese sponsors have suspended their ties with NBA clubs. The TV channels have removed tonight’s games and other games from the schedules. Since then NBA Commissioner Adam Silver defended Morey’s right to tweet as he wishes. San Antonio Spurs coach Gregg Popovich backed him up, “He came out strongly for freedom of speech.” NBA fans in China are backing their country over their love for the game of basketball. Most fans here demand an apology before they carry on their love affair with America’s basketball. A huge repletion of one quote can be found seemingly everywhere, “China-U.S. relations began with ping-pong, and they’ve ended with basketball.” What President Nixon did in 1971 is being undone by a closed-shop sports league that usually puts capital over principals.

What’s the story, Mr Morey? Well, he later added a post to the affects of a desperate boyfriend who has shunned the love of his life. Basketball is huge in China. China is huge. Almost every garden, park or recreation area has a court, or two, or more. The Chinese Basketball Association believes 300 million people play the sport. I feel that is an understatement. From school bus drivers to security guards to uncles minding their grand kids, and the other more expected hoop-throwing youths, it is everywhere. It dominates ball sports here. Rugby Union played its part in Apartheid; the Munich massacre happened; LGBT rights protests surrounded the 2014 Winter Olympics in Russia; 8 nations (including China) boycotted the 1956 Olympics in Australia after Russia were suspended for invading Hungary; China boycotted two other Olympic games (’64 as China had entered the Games of the New Emerging Forces (GANEFO);’80 due to USSR’s invasion of Afghanistan); the massacre at Tlatelolco happened; but overall sport is essential to world relations. Now, NBA is thrust into the limelight (unlike South Park, removed from search histories).

As NBA has been met with displeasure, some hot heads have used stronger language and hate as their reply. That’s not on. It can’t be that way. How can we all find a common path to the future if we don’t talk? For some fashion and perfume brands, China is not a good place to trade now. Keeping quiet has more of a benefit than losing potential custom. Sport is the same. Discrimination is bad. The vulnerable, the needy and those subject to abuse because of prejudices need a voice. Colour, race, ethnicity, religion are always topics which will need sensitivity. But, on the other hand, how far do you believe in your freedom of speech? And right now, many brave souls are stepping up.

Whether with Extinction Rebellion at London City Airport, or forming a rather large Tibet flag at a French football game… even a 91-year-old called John has been arrested, complete with a walking stick. Of course, Liverpool FC faced opposition to their attempt to trademark the name of Liverpool, and also when they drove local property values down in a bid to buy the properties for cheaper later – because commercial development is where it is at. But, we must look at the other side of the conversations too. China may be huge but its 5000 years of civilisation as been invaded in many places, colonised and used as a factory. Now it gathers strength enough to speak out loud. China sings from the same hymn sheet – and mostly through pride in identity. Other countries are often divided – split and messy, yet they all like to shout about how it is done.

Sport is a great friendship tool. It bridges division and cultures. Iraq play football and could face Nepal, equally they could host Australia or Qatar. England can travel to Scotland, Sweden or Slovenia. The game of football, like basketball and other such sports can influence and deepen relations. Claimed sovereignty, national interests and cultures can be better understood. When two differences are clear, then dialogue can be heard – or silenced. Boycotts and closure won’t help every battle. Tolerance is not even enough. We must be careful in this day and age, as people, not to shout abuse and close our minds.

For me, I’d like to view Tibet first hand, and see the region. I will remain neutral. I’d like to speak about Hong Kong, but I won’t. I must remain neutral – Hong Kong is part of China – and the days of it being a British colony are long gone. This is a matter for the people of the affected regions and not the former occupants and their Union Flag. I’m here in China as a guest. A foreigner who feels foreign and is always reminded that I’ll never be local or Chinese. I know where I stand. That’s fine. It is accepted. I’m just trying to make a living and find a way to get onto the U.K. property ladder in my home country that is also far from free. I want to be like Mel Gibson’s William Wallace and say something like he did in the movie Braveheart, “I came back home to raise crops, and God willing, a family. If I can live in peace, I will.”

East and West are crashing together like heavy waves on a shoreline susceptible to costal erosion. For those of us living between the two, we have to knuckle down and work, without tickling any tiger’s testicles – and keeping the burning heat of tiger balm far away from our balls.

“I look upon human beings as automatons because they all think they can do what they want but they can’t. They are not free. No one is.” – Maitland Tapes-interview with Prof. Hugh Maitland 1970 L. S. Lowry – A Biography by Shelley Rhode

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

John Barnes or John Terry?

02/10/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

The Inktober day 2 picture has nothing to do with today’s post…

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

We have all heard something like, “I’m not racist but…” and then the sentence ends with something about going on holiday to Benidorm (Spain) and drinking Carlsberg, from Denmark, whilst wearing boxer shorts, made in China. Oh, and driving a Lada with your Indian friend who runs a takeaway. But, that isn’t my point. The point today is racism.

I’m white or Caucasian, or whatever you want to call me. My family heritage doesn’t involve a tribal background or slavery, to my knowledge. I haven’t been persecuted for being Hispanic or had my genetics questioned. I’m not Aryan, Semitic or Hamitic, and if I was, I wouldn’t care too much. I believe that I am human and like people born in Mongolia, Manhatten or Morecambe, I will treat all the same. If they wear a Man Utd shirt, they will earn my disgust. I couldn’t care if you have a Polynesian, Maori or Australoid ethnographic background, you’re sound with me as long as you don’t wear Giggs, number 7.

We live in a very politically correct age and people nowadays are exposed to more and more social media than ever before. Things are tweeted or written and appear instantly to a near global audience. Anyone can show the likeness between Kevin De Bruyne and Tintin or the Milky Bar Kid, or can they? Can Shaquille Rashaun “Shaq” O’Neal do that? Why did I choose Shaq? Well, he is hugely influential, rescued Nike in some ways and people idolise him. But, he isn’t a friend with Kevin De Bruyne, so it would be unlikely that he would think of such a comparison.

The punishments in football for racism are weak. For a game in October 2018, Padiham were fined £165 for leaving the field. Why did they leave? The Congleton end were racially abusive. Congleton had to pay £160. Okay, it is a lower level, but it reflects UEFA and FA fines or punishments in a way. Leeds goalie Kika Casilla is accused of racially abusing Jonathan Leko, but like the John Terry versus Anton Ferdinand matter, it will be a weak outcome. Terry had a £220,000 fine and a 4 game ban. Somehow, Anton’s brother Rio tweeted that Ashley Cole was a ‘Choc Ice’ (white on the inside?) to give Rio a £45,000 fine. The recent year has seen over 30 instances presented to the F.A. There is a rise in line with crimes committed outside of football. The social problem goes on. The guy saluting Hitler in the stands against City yesterday, he definitely was racist.

Hitler mk. 2 nominee Bernardo Mota Veiga de Carvalho e Silva, has just been found guilty of an ‘aggravated breach’ of misconduct rules. This relates to a social media post that he made. Bernardo, was raised in the colonial powerhouse that is Lisbon, a place that gave football and S. L. Benfica the legendary Eusébio. Born of Portuguese Mozambique, Eusébio da Silva Ferreira, was often nicknamed the ‘Black Panther’, much like the name of a Marvek Superhero. Did Eusébio’s statue outside Benfica ever envisage that one day a famous son of the club would be embroiled in a racism scandal?

Fast forwards from Benfica, and Benardo Silva has played from Monaco and Manchester City. He shares a close relationship with his probable best friend with Benjamin Mendy. There is banter and there are jokes. Some are shared on Instagram and Twitter in the public domain. One implies Mendy is completely naked whilst being dressed in black. Now, hands up, is that observational humour, racism or just something people say to each other? I mean white guys at school said the same to me when I was dressed in white, and guys of other ethnic origins have said the same since. I didn’t feel abused – let alone racially abused. Bernardo has since used Twitter to share a chubby looking kid (Mendy) and Conguitos character with the words, “Guess who?” and two emoticons.

Are the smell yellow people (Minions), the Simpsons and other cartoons racist? Is shoehorning in a character racist because the original period of time or that story didn’t have enough ethnicity racist? The Spanish chocolate peanut brand Conguitos has been accused of racism for a long time. Conguitos means ‘Little Congans’ – a generalisation of many tribes from the Congo basin. Conguitos, have a white and chocolate version. Like Robertson’s jams and the characters that they used (golliwog, now simply golly), good education and conversation has helped eradicate such a silly character. Rather than dish out bans and fined, education and conversation should be key.

“I think he looks like a young Mendy. I don’t see what the issue is. This has got nothing to do with racism. They are friends. Regardless of whether it looks like Mendy or not, why is that offensive?” – John Barnes, former Liverpool and England footballer – and now racist sympathiser

So, how do we punish this? The FA have a 6-match ban, as a minimum for on field racism, with an education programme. Nazi-saluting Wayne Hennessy had the book thrown at him and that set a precedent. Allo, Allo never had any repeats in the Hennessy household. German team-mate Max Meyer would have corrected him rather than posting the photo, right? Anyway, with that innocent shout for a waiter from behind a group of people posing for a photo, and the arm in the air, Hennessy is desperate to learn about Nazis, according to a fellow white man. Did the actions and photograph bring the game into disrepute? Yes, but no, but, yes, but no.

“Football doesn’t have a racism problem, it has a denial of racism problem. John Barnes and Pep Guardiola’s claim that Bernardo Silva did not tweet a racist image of team-mate Benjamin Mendy is nonsense” – @BenHCarrington, Professor of Sociology & Journalism

Teammate Raheem Sterling, so often the voice against racism, and a sensible mature voice at that, defended Bernardo. Not that this makes it right, but it does kind of give a character reference from someone slated by social media abuse – and actual media abuse. With a possible ban, somehow being talked into the scene and players like De Bruyne out injured, who is to benefit? Raheem Sterling, of course! It’s all a big conspiracy. No, it isn’t! It us a huge witch hunt – and mostly for those who want to add their two pennies worth. The money and time spent on this matter is stupendous. There is actual racism out there, by fans, by groups, by clubs, leagues and nations… Don’t be complacent, be proactive – or we’ll join the global list of fascism in football time and time again.

Yids, as used by Spurs fans, and against Spurs fans is a term, I’ve heard countless time in recent years. You can buy Conguitos on Amazon as easily as seeing money leaking from the Premier League’s inclusion campaign and Kick It Out, football’s equality and inclusion organisation, duplicating their tasks. Xenophobia and racism are in the game, from grassroots upwards. We’re too dismissive. The game has a Black and Asian Coaches Association (BACA), in a way that is similar to the LGBTQ+ movement to eradicate homophobia in society. It shouldn’t have to be that way, but it is. Time to mention Millwall, because they like many (Burnley, Arsenal, West Ham and Peter Beardsley, and so on) have problems. Islamophobia and antisemitism are on the rise in society – and football is the tip of a great big white iceberg of problems. Mel Gibson and others found to hold stupid archaic messages have been outcasted. SO, as a Manchester City fan, I say this: Ban Silva for the season, if you truly believe he was racist. If there is doubt, let’s keep the endless battle against racism and bring Bernardo into the army against it. Embrace Bernardo – and make sure he never makes a mistake again and sets an example to other professionals.

Has Bernardo’s tweet brought the game into disrepute? Most certainly. Now, the overlord-like white privilege are jerking each other off over their keyboards? Real stonewall racism is being overlooked in a way that only UEFA-standard referees can overlook VAR decisions. But, here we are focusing on the fact that a professional who has followers has taken the game into an area that the game doesn’t want to be. So, that’s why the F.A. will fine and ban Bernardo Silva. By deleting the tweet, Bernardo has admitted a mistake, and like an artist with an eraser, that error should have been removed, but we live in an age of Big Brother and screen capture. Too little, too late. That’s why the right wing will argue that white people can’t say or do this or that, without fear of reprisal by laws or vilification. Bernardo, wasn’t racist, he was naïve.

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

Add Vim or Gin & Tonic?

01/10/201901/10/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

WHO AM I?

“Everything in life is difficult: Being young, being old.” – Dag, TV series 3, episode 4 opening credits.

What is the meaning of life? Such a common question. I wonder why that is always the big question. Is the answer really 42? Many in religion argue that a scientific mind is a major cause of an individual’s crisis in meaning. Is it that there is almost a denial that an interplay of gases, chemicals, genetics and biology can lead to a meaning? Our amoeba cousins are prime examples of life. The humble farmed hogs being hunted the leopards of Mumbai too. Look outside and see a butterfly flutter by, and there is the answer. Survival. Google the wrong term without a safe search and you’ll no doubt stumble on the other answer: propagation.

Without completely telling religion where to scatter, I won’t force my beliefs on those who believe. Rag’n’Boneman will back me up. I’m only human, after all. I do however favour a logical and scientific approach to life, and higher beings don’t exist in it. No prophets, Gods, Goddesses, Deities, immortals, idols, or divine beings for me. I do believe in nature as a force. Holy beings are a no. Caterpillars changing to butterflies are a yes. The bible is young. God, the one Him and He that is mentioned in the new and old testament is quite modern, which I find strange and a little questionable.

Depressingly life is quite simple, and it seems us numpty humanoids complicate things. Is the glass half full? No. Is the glass half empty? No. The glass exists, with something neither incomplete nor complete inside it. It can house more or less than the state it was in before two simple questions were presented. Is the glass full of water and air in an unbalanced state? Is the water warm, cold or hot? Who put the question into a glass? Why not a whiskey tumbler? Are tumblers a glass? How many other glasses are stood full nearby? Can the question apply to tins of Costa Coffee x Coca Cola? Will that make it into a Costa Express machine to be delivered free one day?

Books, movies and songs have always been good companions. I fear that I will let others down, or myself down. I need a ray of sunshine to pick me up. Other people’s wonderful creations give me hope. They are my sunshine on a dark day. I’m in a foreign land where not everyone speaks my tongue. Few do. Even then if I can speak with someone, no matter how close they are, I cannot be sure that they truly understand me. Linguistic and cultural barriers exist in regions, countries, political beliefs and thoughts too. My humour is not Andy Warhol, and not Billy Connolly. It is just me, plain old and simple me. To have fingers put upon emotions, by others, and shared before eventually reaching you is simply delightful.

“Almost everything will work again of you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” – Anne Lamott, novelist

The trick of life is surviving it by feeling achievement. Somewhere in our DNA is an answer to a problem. Perhaps we don’t know of it. Perhaps we never will. Perhaps our species will have evolved time and time again rendering that answer obsolete. Relationships in our lives may dip, ebb or fade away. That’s life. Kick it in the dick and move on or engage in conversation. Have a natter with a good friend – or help your significant other to understand you using words. If that fails, there are alternative lifestyles like nudist camps, swinging, or cycling around the world jobless. Not every mould of lifestyle choice will fit everyone. Find that extra vim. If something feels dead end and meaningless, change the goalposts and seek the verve and vigour that you need. Too many people die with regrets. To quote William Wallace in Braveheart, “Every man dies, but not every man really lives” or something similar to that. Goodbye triviality, hello exuberance.

“Animals, poor things, eat in order to survive: we, lucky things, do that too, but we also have Abbey Crunch biscuits, Armagnac, selle d’agneau, tortilla chips, sauce béarnaise, Vimto, hot buttered crumpets, Chateau Margaux, ginger-snaps, risotto nero and peanut-butter sandwiches — these things have nothing to do with survival and everything to do with pleasure.” – Stephen Fry, Moab Is My Washpot

For me, I think people around the world would love a bit more understanding and togetherness. There are all too many bullets to chests, too many factories billowing crap into the air and too little respect being shown by leaders to their people. More empathy, less greed and a dab of extra worth wouldn’t harm anyone. No need to power up a supercomputer for 7.5 million years. However, we can still dream and look to the stars for hope or worship our chosen beliefs.

When I was at university and failed my first year, I felt lost. Why was I suddenly studying Behavioural Biology, far from home, running up a debt that clouded my hunger to study? I didn’t have a clue if it would get a me a career or a pathway into “the real world” (as students would often say). I did know one thing. Here I was far from home. Independent. Going solo. The reading of books and the routine of lectures wasn’t for me. I stumbled through years of studying and almost zero revision. Did I feel that I had failed? No. It was a challenge and I was out of my comfort zone. I learnt about myself in more ways than I thought possible. The wisdom of hindsight has taught me that.

THE EMPIRE ON WHICH THE SUN NEVER SETS

With more opportunity people are free to find their purpose. As it stands Braveheart is being remade on the streets of Hong Kong, in a historically flipped up situation made by Great Britain. The British Empire, at its peak in 1920, covered almost a quarter of the Earth’s surface area. After losing 13 colonies to the U.S.A.’s birth in 1783, Britain headed east and towards Africa. The Pacific was ripe for picking. For 99 years, starting in 1815, Britain became the Team America: World Police of the day. As Britain became challenged by Germany and the U.S.A.’s rise, the cracks that allowed the outbreak of the Great War were laid. In 1922 Ireland became free of British rule. Other territories would soon follow. Britain’s eastern empire fell with Japan sweeping over the supposedly impregnable Singapore, sewing the foundations for New Zealand and Australis to go alone, eventually.

Decolonisation, a decline in the nation’s strength and crisis after crisis (India, Palestine, Suez, the Malayan emergency, the Cold War, the Falklands…) haunted Britain – and the scars are visible today. Ireland and Northern Ireland remain divided and with Brexit impending the real threat of further trouble threatens the U.K. like a dark cloud. And if anything is to go by, the troubles will be back, because Rambo, Charlies Angels, the Terminator and Top Gun are still in the cinemas. Do we keep making the same mistakes in order to sell movies?

By 1983, Britain held 13 or 14 overseas territories. Penguins, Indian Ocean post boxes, a rock in Spain and a place near a triangle make for a nice holiday. Three islands have no residents but retain some scientific or military presence. Perhaps, Area 52 is located on one of these islands. Five of the territories are claimed by other nations. Interestingly, 52 former colonies protectorates are still party to the archaic Commonwealth of Nations. That Commonwealth is non-political, apparently. The U.K.’s royal family still head 16 states too, making their divorce from the U.K. most bizarre.

In the U.K., I worked for Aviva Insurance, for about 5 years. It didn’t feel meaningless and they were an okay employer. The corporate machine offers comfort for a not-so-amazing salary. Internal transfers are plentiful, but promotion in an age of very few people retiring, or moving on, didn’t help me. The work wasn’t too significant to me and my enthusiasm dropped, but to Joe Public and my colleagues, I kept plugging away, not like a robot, and not with any ambition. At this stage I’d lost ambition completely. Communication with other people and understanding were concepts that I was enjoying. This would start me on a pathway to teaching in China. A place where I would miss my favourite drink Vimto.

Vimto & Maine Road (Manchester City’s former home ground) have an unusual connection: Vimto. In 1851, the U.S. state of Maine was the first to outlaw alcoholic beverages. Manchester City Football Club’s then owners named the new ground’s road after this U.S. state. Temperance was quite a popular social campaign, much like Twitter campaigns like Jake Parker’s Inktober. That temperance movement made Vimto popular in the U.K. and gave Vimto a gateway to the world. The Middle East embraced Vimto long before Manchester City were heard of. The Saudi company, Abdulla Aujan & Brothers, had the sole rights in 1920s – and in a place with no letter V in their alphabet. A strong movement of division that brought about togetherness in a way…

Casting aside an ego, or stoning to death a worry, over time, my mind has finally understood that worries help nothing. Yet, I still worry from time to time. On buffering my soul and a kind of system reboot, I synch in time with my interests – and then look at the challenge freshly, dealing with it at a suitable pace. My pace. Not the pace of anyone else. You can only be yourself. With that, you can find yourself. And in Wales, I had the chance at Aberystwyth to discover and uncover myself.

EUROPEAN BENEFITS vs. EUROPEAN

The EU objective one funding was the best thing to happen to Wales. Without those projects being continually supported and the preservation funds for other cultural projects then central UK government will not listen so easily… division is a big problem and a stupid democratic vote, based on lies and bull pooh has done nothing but destabilise the UK – and division is everywhere. The people are too busy to notice the profits made by those who really benefit from this joke of a situation. If people need to campaign and protest against a silly democratic moment, so be it. An ill-informed minority of victorious voters will determine the future of the people? No. Is that remotely fair? No. Is it a fair to cancel Brexit? No. Remember, if you have been mis-sold PPI, you were entitled to claim the money back. So, the chance to force a legal process and decision into being over-turned is also democratic. Good luck with your 14 days money back refunds on trousers at Asda in the future. So many knock-on effects will happen.

Map it out. Our heads endured puzzlement and the pro-Brexit campaigners did not give clear reason to leave. The remain campaign dug a web of truth and lies to battle back. The leavers and the remain side argued until the cows came home. Then, someone bet on this, that and the other, standing to make a lot from the destructive nature of a messy divorce. The media twisted, turned, repeated, replayed and shot out word after word of noise. A campaign of vilifying and anti-heroism ran head on into a white-headed knight with a weaker than broken past record. That’s where we are now. Britain is no longer great. It is heading for isolation and absolute irrelevance as politically respectable nations go.

Isolation is not good for me. I am a loner when I choose to be. I am an outsider in my mind, but part of the team when I am welcomed or when I am welcoming others to the team. I like the natural flip on and out of things that some call being a social butterfly. I share an intimate and open friendship with my best friend Dan. I won’t hold back from telling him anything. With past, present and if-it-happens-it-happens possible future relationships, I hold back. I fear being hurt; I fear giving too much. My past experiences, and I know I have never been perfect – and Lord knows how many mistakes that have been made, have been made, but deep down I have never wanted to hurt anyone. I can be selfish and distant. Concealing my head in the sands, as the world goes by, is proof that I am part Ostrich. If I feel too constricted and less free, I tend to hide away or feel anxious. There is an itch where there should be calm. My eagerness to cycle off forever in the style of Forrest Gump running away, becomes a serious thought. At least I understand me. Well, most of the time.

The human brain is complex. It can handle algorithms, algebra and aardvarks. Confusion can reign supreme over absolutely anything and it can be caused by the weather, girls, boys, life and money – amongst a larger list of factors. There are poems, songs and crossword answers stuck inside our head. We just have to find the time to let it all out. Dripping it out like a slow roasted coffee works for some. Blurting it out like a Slipknot machine gun lyric for others. The same two options may work for one or the other at any given time.

The unfamiliar and strange don’t scare me. I worry more about monotony and uniformity. I don’t want to be a rebel outcast, but I do want to do my own thing. I enjoy being a service and teaching. I enjoy writing, even if it is to no-one in particular. This writing serves me well, it is the warm-up, the cool-down and the practice for work in progress. When work in progress becomes actual work, then I will feel that I have made an actual progress. There is method to my madness. In the meantime, I want to be like those who have left a mark on me. The influences I felt as a child. Mr Jones who encouraged me at primary school in Chapel Street; strict Mr Meheran at Reddish Vale Secondary School; Mr Tony Mack at the same school; the very warm and wonderful Miss Roe, and Mr Kershaw at Chapel Street. I can’t be a lifeboatman or a laser eye surgeon, but I do hope that I can be a good memory.

A good memory of someone can help you spring out of bed in the morning. To take that memory and magnify it, tell it, share it and hope that it will improve someone. If a 16-year old Skye Terrier called Greyfriars Bobby can have his story told for over one a half centuries, there has to be good reason. Warm memories of our grandparents help them to live on through ourselves. As child becomes parent, the parent becomes the grandparent and a cheesy way of saying the circle of life continues. Otherwise, we’d be cold, lost at sea, and trapped in eternal darkness with monsters snapping at the end of our bed, waiting for a foot to lower into their bleak and unwelcoming mouths. Our harmony is in life. Life is wonderful and whilst the meanings may be simple and the answers to our daily grind may seem far away, we are NOT alone.

I like to focus my students upon being honest. I try to stress teamwork and community over finances and ability. We’ll build a city map with castles and dreamscapes, rather than focus on calculus and repetition of words. We’ll build a city map with castles and dreamscapes, rather than focus on calculus and repetition of words. I want the minds that I encounter not to be afraid of introspection and going it alone. Let each student show their talents step by step and here we go. Goodbye dreariness and hello variety. With Tip the Dog’s story in our hearts, we’re ready to jump out of bed tomorrow…

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

…I’m getting off?

27/09/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

“Time spent among trees is never time wasted.” – Anonymous

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

Carbon emissions are one thing. The ozone layer and its depletion seemed to be the theme of the 1990s. But what about the other crap that we fling upwards into our atmosphere? As a species we have used our intelligence to create and combine a wealth of chemical knowledge to form so many new things. Earth had the basics and we adapted everything from nature into manmade conceptions. Our creativity spawned new fabrications and handiworks and we didn’t know their effects upon the natural world. Or, did we turn a blind eye?

So, where did this all begin? Manchester, of course. Well, not just my hometown, but pretty much all of Great Britain. Steam power, textiles, iron making and the inventors having a field day making new tools kicked off the Industrial Revolution. As fast as the spinning mule could spin, the revolution spread across Europe and to North America. As long as the cotton made on a loom could stretch, the methods of fast industry shout outwards across the world. Waters in rivers ran with colours and toxins unregulated. Skies turned black. Farming fields and forestry secumbed to the Cottonopolis that was Manchester. Coal demand shot up. Steam billowed upwards into the sky alongside toxic soot. The raw materials needed moving. Bridges such as Iron Bridge in England’s Shropshire set a new level of industrial infrastructure. Sir Richard Arkwright, Robert Peel, John Rylands and a whole host of blokes became rich, powerful and industrial very fast.

“One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between man and nature shall not be broken.” – Leo Tolstoy, Russian writer

Yorkshire, Lancashire, Salford, Cheshire and Manchester became central to many movements. Even today, Quarry Bank Mill, in Styal operates to show visitors of life back then. Alongside this, there are UNESCO sites in Derbyshire dedicated to Arkwright’s work and so on. The effect of the Industrial Revolution demanded true innovation and architects met the call willingly. Up popped Bradshaw Gass & Hope, David Bellhouse, Philip Sidney Stott, and others to build for the new era. With that power needed generating and John Musgrave & Sons, amongst other stepped up to the glorious age of steam and engine power. One such company, Mather & Platt still exist today in South Africa. Their 1817 origin by Peter Mather in Salford to John Platt taking over Salfird Iron Works in 1837 has been a diverse ride. They did their bit to enhance safety in cotton mills, distributing an automatic sprinkler; they expanded rapidly; they shipped the Machinery Annexe of the Paris Exhibition from France, up the Manchester Ship Canal and rebuilt it in Newton Heath by 1900. They expanded into Pune (India) before an Australian company purchased the company in 1978. After this Thailand, a German-takeover and still operate to this day. How many other companies from the Industrial Revolution era have gone on to become industrial powerhouses?

As a teenager I’d pass Houldsworth Mill, built by a design of Stott and Sons. The red brick mill had seen many cleaning jobs and now is housing accommodation fit for the rich and wealthy of today. Little did I know that at the time of passing that mill, I was passing a sister mill of ones found in Oldham’s Chadderton – not far from my Gran’s house. The factory system had given capitalism a huge kick up the backside. Like modern day China factory bosses, many factory owners back then in Britain became very rich, very fast. Some invested heavily in urbanisation for their workers. Healthcare, education and opportunity developed suddenly. A demand for better quality and fresher food followed. The standard of living improved. Did the working classes still feel the exploitation of heavy industry? Did each technological enhancement drown shances of a good swim the employment pool? Did they notice the smog building up?

“Environmentally friendly cars will soon cease to be an option … they will become a necessity.” – Fujio Cho, Honorary Chairman of Toyota Motors

Soon enough people got wise. Socialism and Marxism were born. People like Welshman Robert Owen influenced social care and reformation of working practices. Owenism became a movement, long before England centre-forward Michael Owen became a young mover of the footballing game. People were starting to see that the skies weren’t perfect. Something that has maintained to this day in the like of Greenpeace and others who don’t like too many airplanes in the sky.

“Eight hours labour, Eight hours recreation, Eight hours rest.” – Robert Owen, philanthropic capitalist and social reformer.

Convicted terrorist and former University of Michigan mathematics Professor, Theodore Kaczynski was quoted as saying, and writing,“The Industrial Revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race.” In many ways, this is an agreeable statement. The western world gained considerable wealth and dominated the globe. Pollution, such as the legendary London smogs, the discolouration of tree barks, and the deaths of many aquatic species became general knowledge. The world’s population started a huge upwards trend. Natural resource depletion had begun. Chemical warfare on nature was now in full swing, battling against fresh air, clean seas and green habitats. The fossil fuels were now unlocked and ready to go.

“I only feel angry when I see waste. When I see people throwing away things we could use.” – Mother Teresa

As conditions improved generally for people, the speed of growth was unsustainable. Many became left behind. Poor working and living conditions, lack of education and healthcare and low wages alongside child labour amongst a whole host of problems arose. The world around humanity had fundamentally changed from a largely agricultural civilisation to one of machinery and motion. Even now, agriculture advanced with new machinery. Land could be used faster. Railways spread and communities grew ever closer. Dust tracks became lanes that became roads that became highways than became lane after lane of traffic. Sanitation had to catch up. Some countries dug drains and found ways to get those little poohs we do from the bowl to further along the water cycle, like the sea.

“There is a tendency at every important but difficult crossroad to pretend that it’s not really there.” – Bill McKibben, The End of Nature

Disease occurrence escalated. We spotted new illnesses and cancers. Before we’d found the cures or ailments, more came along. And the more. And more. Still more pop up. Some were found to be linked to toxins, metals and exposure to manmade materials or chemicals. And today, our air is saturated with gases that reduce the protective layers of ozone (O3) needed to keep the Earth cool. Big hitters, of the fume world, chlorine and bromine atoms do huge damage. Just once chlorine atom smashes 100,000 ozone molecules out of the park. Wham. Gone! There are other similar ozone-destructive gases. This doesn’t take into account the gases that don’t reach the stratosphere. Some are too heavy to rise and end up in smoggy conditions or absorbed into our waterways.

“If the bee disappeared off the face of the earth, man would only have four years left to live.” – Maurice Maeterlinck, The Life of the Bee

One single rocket launch by NASA or whoever fancies a spot of space exploration, releases enough soot and aluminium oxide to deplete the ozone in a quantity far higher than global CFC emissions (chloroflurocarbon chemicals). So, expect to experience a few more UVB rays… and an added bonus of skin cancer might be swinging your way, unless by the year 2075 we can return the ozone hole to the levels noted before 1980. The 46-state signatories of the Montreal Protocol are likely to help. Especially, seeing as trump card Trump hasn’t exited it – but has yet to ratify the recent Kigali Amendment. Well he needs to concentrate on piping sales first. Trump’s record of science denial is alarming. His expected eradication of P.O.T.U.S.A. Obama’s Clean Power Plan is slowly gathering momentum, turning a nation that was slowly ridding itself of coal into a nation that once again will depend on coal. Please the fossil fuel industry. Fuck the world. The Affordable Clean Energy Rule is weak, at best. One mammoth nation does as a Twitter handle with a wig pleases.

“Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” – George Bernard Shaw, Irish Playwright

Another gargantuan and colossal nation ploughs on with sweeping environmental policies. Public image pleasing, a sense of responsibility and a duty to the planet seem to be groing in China. China has undertook the Industrial Revolution and the Information Revolution at a lightning pace. It became the world’s manufacturing base practically overnight and maintained business as usual for a few decades. Since 2014, the Ministry of Ecology and Environment the People’s Republic of China has evolved. Headed by Li Ganjie (李干杰;). Steps have been small and steady but China’s eco-friendly energy generation is increasing. On top of this technology and environmental projects are under way left, right and centre. Qingdao will soon have an Eden Project – one of three in China. Laws, standards and regulations are being felt nationally. Shanghai has implemented strict recycling rules. Dongguan in South China’s Guangdong has many factories closing its doors because they cannot satisfy environmental protection laws. Policing is improving and implementation is going from lax to structured. Mega projects continue and this adds to the huge biodiversity loss of a nation that is suffering from significant environmental sustainability problems. Rapid urbanisation, energy demand and population growth won’t help – but some could debate China is doing more than the developed US of A. Resource demand shows no slowing as of this year… Much like the rest of the world – especially nations still developing.

“The Earth is what we all have in common.” – Wendell Berry, Poet

So, what now?

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

Comedy Prescription

03/09/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

I Think, You Stink! written and directed by comedian Nick Helm was surprising for many reasons. Not least the warning about strobe lighting and strong language (swearing) but the acting and singing. The dancing too. Amongst the initial audience participation of the B-movie spoof romp, it became clear we the watchers were in for a treat. The 10^th anniversary of Helm’s earlier joyous show, was far from dead. The hypno-vision and giggles made the show in Assembly Roxy fly by. The special effects were underwhelmingly overwhelming. Beasts, beauty and great vocals drove the drive-in show far and wide, concluding with a standing ovation. Catchy melodies delivered by great comedy vocalists and teamwork for a simple stage show. Oluwatayo Adewole gave it a 5-star in his review purely because his writing captures the energy that the acting team throw at the performance. Rob Kemp, Jenny Bede, Katie Pritchard and the stunningly seductive Sooz Kempner all can lead a show wonderfully. This wasn’t just a Nick Helm show. This a was a Premier League of talents working together. If only they could be in Parliament – then the tiresome Brexit and poison chalices being banded about may be sorted by a proper organised outfit.

“Dark and twisted, but strangely sweet in the middle” – Mail on Sunday

A few weeks back I watched a Billy Connolly celebration. At first it seemed like a memorial show and I started to panic, thinking The Big Yin was dead. Luckily the 76-year old comedy star, folk rocker and actor has not left the mortal life. The show was simply a festivity of his works – with the feelings experienced by those watching over the years. Billy & Me was touching and sweet but one moment stood out to me. Narrated by Surrane Jones, one viewer said she had been suffering from depression and the doctor prescribed comedy. By watching The Big Yin, for an hour a day, her condition approved. Having not watched as much comedy during the last few years (accessibility and time issues, are my makeshift excuse), I agree. Comedy is a good prescription for a period of time with monsters lurking at the foot of the bed. Nick Helm’s how did just that trick. The world became a brighter place. On that note look up Danny Wallace’s book on rudeness, I Can’t Believe You Just Said That: The truth about why people are SO rude. On reading that you’ll start to think a bit more.

The importance of reading, comedy and thinking for yourself have been amongst civilisations since the dawn of civilization. Anyway, if it makes you think and smile, without making someone else sad, upset or offended, then why not? Our mental health is important. Go on, find a prescription now.

“Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes. After that who cares? He’s a mile away and you’ve got his shoes!” – Billy Connolly

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

James (and the castles of Scotland)

30/08/201930/08/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste / A’m gled tae meet ye,

During a recent whistlestop tour of Scotland, it was possible to admire many castles. The thing about some cities in Scotland, like Edinburgh – and Stirling, is that they have imposing castles on rocks high above the ground below. Another such beauty of a castle is Scotland’s longest recorded stronghold, Dumbarton Castle.

For Stirling, James IV, the sequel James V and James VI built significant parts to the early 12^th century rudimental castle. James III was born there, James II sheltered there – and James I gave it to his wife and mother of James II. James, the indie band from Manchester, to my knowledge haven’t played there. Sit down. The early Stewarts and Wars of Scottish Independence have significance at this location. The current commander is James Erskine, 14th Earl of Mar – another bloody James. The castle that could easily be called James (after James from Thomas The Tank Engine?) sits on 350 million year old quartz-dolerite. William Wallace, of Braveheart fame, even resided there briefly after the Battle of Stirling Bridge. Today it is mostly a Renaissance palace from around the times of 1490 to 1600, when the Royal Family pretty much moved to London, as real estate prices were reasonable back then. Since then, military digs, a museum featuring the legendary Balaclava Company and education have dominated the castle’s recent years.

Edinburgh Castle towers of Old Town. From Castle Rock, aged 350 million years, the 460’ elevation (140 m), the views from the former volcanic pipe are stunning. The only way into the castle from the east. The other directions have steep falls. Even water struggled to find a way in during the Lang Siege of 1573.

Edinburgh’s connection to a James comes with a siege to free James III of Scotland in 1482. Ten-year-old King James II watched two teenagers get executed in November 1440. James IV built the Great Hall. In fact, Edinburgh castle featured greatly in the great soap opera of Scottish royal history. The castle nowadays reflects a grander tourist feel with the superb Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo taking place in a stadium-parade ground outside the main castle gates.

Dumbarton Castle strikes out from a 334 million year old volcanic basalt plug. Settlements have been noted as far back as Iron Age forts. The 557 steps up are a challenge for today’s visitors and a face of William Wallace’s supposed betrayer is carved: Sir John Menteith of Ruskie and Knapdale.

“Schyre Jhon of Menteith in tha days; Tuk in Glasgow William Walays; And sent hym until Ingland sune, There was he quartayrd and undone.” – Metrical Chronicle, Andrew of Wyntoun (1350-1425), Scottish poet

The castle can be seen looming over the town of Dumbarton and by the River Clyde. The landscape combined with the history makes for a wonderful daydreaming experience on a passing train.

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

Bryan Pugh Jones

26/08/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)1 Comment

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The name Bryan Pugh-Jones is one that should be known throughout Welsh football. He has long been associated with the old black and green of Aberystwyth Town F.C.

A true Green Legend of Aberystwyth Town F.C. means much to fans and the community of Aberystwyth. They engage those around them in ways that others cannot replicate. Whilst ATFC haven’t been seen as professional, one amateur player and club representative has been nothing but professional in his attitude. Having bled black and green over decades of football, few have had a connection with the Seasiders longer. Bryan wore the captain’s armband for 12 years. He carried on with the reserve team, long after others sought retirement.

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I was told Bryan arrived in Aberystwyth from Penparcau via Bont – and never left Town. Indeed, on meeting him in person, he delivered many witty yarns in ways that I found belly laughter the only way to respond. From those early days as a student to my departure from living in Aberystwyth I found Bryan Pugh-Jones was always a friendly and kind man. He’d answer every question and point me in the right direction.

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A self-confessed tone-deaf player would hum hymns as others sang. Listening to his stories it was hard to imagine this gentle man being a formidable adversary on the football pitch. Those who played against him told me he was strong and direct, yet not dirty. So much respect awarded him the first ever ATFC testimonial. A certain Geoff Hurst featured amongst the opposition.

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For any player to have come up against him, they would have learned much from that experience. In 1974 Bryan Pugh-Jones became ATFC’s first ever player to be awarded a testimonial – the opposition featured Geoff Hurst.

It is fitting that on the day football legend George Best was laid to rest, another legend Bryan Pugh-Jones was honoured for his services to football from the FAW. The 3^rd of December 2005 was one of many honours, and on 23/6/16, I read in the Cambrian News, whilst I lived in China, of Bryan Pugh-Jones being honoured by the RNLI. His services to lifesaving were celebrated alongside others in receipt of awards at Aberystwyth’s National Library of Wales. So, the Green Legend joined was made Honorary Life Governor of the RNLI. 57 years of voluntary work for Aberystwyth RNLI marked his varied tasks. In those years he was a crew member, tractor driver, station mechanic, and deputy launching authority.

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I recall one day talking with the late David Hides and Bryan Pugh Jones, stood by the tractor that Bryan had set aside. They both discussed in great length the potential of Aberystwyth Town as a club, the history of the region and the weather. It seemed idyllic and eventually we noticed a few hours had passed, and we were all late for our various arrangements of the day.

From 3/12/2005:

Bryan Pugh Jones was recognised by the FAW in the John Charles Lounge. Players from the FAW amateur XIs, Bont, and ATFC teams that played alongside Bryan were present. Bryan’s one-time ATFC captain Howard Madley made a short speech, followed by team-mate Alan Blair (who told us how much fun the team was then, and that arguments did not happen), and Dr Gethin Jenkins spoke of the bravery and tenacity Bryan added to football. Bryan always played football with a smile on his face. The step-over was apparently invented by Bryan Pugh-Jones under the name of the alley shuffle. Bryan was always referred to as the laughing entertainer within his changing room. Tegwyn Evans handed Bryan a long service award on behalf of the FAW, and thanked him for his continuing services to football.

The then ATFC Chairman, Donald Kane, first joined Aber through the reserve team. Donald’s first training session ended with Mr Kane landing on his rear-end, taken by a steady and experienced Bryan Pugh-Jones. Bryan lifted Donald up and said, “You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.” Donald Kane added that as a groundsman working with hard conditions (as verified by Dr Jan Hides in a letter to Bryan, read by MC Glan Davies), “he has done wonders, and Bryan could not be replaced.” ATFC’s Honorary Life President, Glenda Charles, presented Bryan with a gift from all members of ATFC. The fans of Aberystwyth gave Bryan Pugh-Jones a framed and signed artwork of Liverpool players Ian St. John and Roger Hunt, from an FA Cup final win in 1965.

MC Glan Davies spoke next about the times Bryan played for Cwmderi (The S4C Pobl-y-Cwm team). Bryan was acting-Chaeufer following an accident Glan had thus preventing Glan from driving. In the end, the TV stars rang Glan up (not asking if Glan was available to play) enquiring if Bryan was available for games. One such game was in Waterford, Ireland against a local fire station crew. In the changing rooms afterwards avrey primative mobile phone rang (Glan said it was the size of a small car?) and Bryan went to pick it up. The players listened in, “Yes, yes, carry on,” said Bryan. He repeated himself again, “Yes, yes, carry on.” And for a third time. The players within the changing room queried, “Who were you speaking to?” Bryan replied, “Someone just rang to check if she could spend some money on a new jumper, so I said Yes, yes, carry on. She then asked if she could get a new car, so I told her Yes, yes, carry on. When she asked for jewellery from a local jewellery store I said, Yes, yes, carry on. Whose phone is this?” Bryan Pugh-Jones was not the only one presented with a gift of thanks, Tony Bates handed Her Indoors a bunch of flowers for putting up with Bryan. The night finished with a comedian, Bob Webb from Swansea, a buffett, lots of drinking and being merry in celebration of a great man: Bryan Pugh Jones.

As a former editor of ATFC.org.uk, I want to share this gallery to honour Bryan Pugh Jones. The flags at Park Avenue and the RNLI lifeboat station in Aberystwyth are at half mast.

My sincere condolences (Pob cydymdeimlad) to the family, friends and those who knew Bryan Pugh Jones.

Wherever you are Bryan, yes, yes, carry on.

The bee’s knees

26/08/201916/05/2021oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

你好/ Ní hǎo / Nín hǎo / Hello / How do / S’mae / Namaste / Gled tae meet ye A’m gled tae meet ye,

It’s been dunky’s since a last saw ye…

Loch Awe Dalmally (159) Sometimes, some places really surprise you. Some people are wonderful, and staying in Dalmally Railway Station’s The Posting Room was one such experience. The hosts, as listed on AirBnB were Liz and Graham (Angus too). They’re ace. Graham welcomed us immediately from our train which arrived on the opposite platform. A proffering of tea and coffee, followed by some delicious courgette and tomato soup. The welcoming really was the bee’s knees.

Loch Awe Dalmally (19) Throughout the weekend Liz and Graham offered great destinations and advice about the locality. Following a ramble up to the Duncan Ban Mcintyre monument, the path swooped down to the A819 road caressing the Loch Awe’s bankside. Here a walk to view the beautiful Kilchurn Castle and Loch Awe scenery was essential. Heavy rain and a lift back by a friendly truck driver capped off a good wander. By evening hunger had arrived. Two miles up the road later: One pub meal in Ben Cruachin Inn resulted in rhubarb crumble. I was over the moon. The mains selected on visiting were something similar to the following:

SMOKED HADDOCK KEDGEREE RISOTTO Arborio rice, turmeric, saffron, garlic & boiled egg. £12.95

FILLET OF LOCH FYNE SALMON Saffron beurre blanc, asparagus & new potatoes. £16.95

The food at the Ben Cruachin Inn is hearty and filling. The local Fyne Ales equally tasty and refreshing. After dinner, the feeding of the legendary Scottish midges commenced at Loch Awe railway station, before a short ten minute journey into Dalmally for cups of tea and bed.

Loch Awe Dalmally (164) In the morning Graham delivered us more brews with porridge and some cake. If Mrs Doyle from Father Ted fame has a male Scottish counterpart, then Graham is he. That’s meant with no disrespect whatsoever. I haven’t experienced this nature of hospitality ever. A host who really cares about his guests. His partner Liz was busy with her felt studio, Heartfelt by Liz (located on the platform). Graham could be seen zipping between guest throughout the day and delivering warm pots of tea and coffee at almost every hour. It seemed everyone was invited for a brew, “On your way back, call by and come and have a brew.”

Loch Awe Dalmally (72) They go out of their way for you. Hospitality at its absolute best. I really want to revisit the station. Maybe next time I can try the Ben Cruachin room or the Rambler’s Rest – or ideally The Writer’s Retreat. The Shepherd’s Hut doesn’t look too bad too. All have great West Highland picturesque views, a stone’s throw from lochs, mountains and wildlife like the tawny owls or screeches of buzzards in the daytime. The idyllic village is a little far out from many places but a wonderful location for hiking, cycling and exploring the region. The venison burgers up the road in the Kilchurn Castle car park aren’t too bad an option. Add haggis.

Loch Awe Dalmally (144) Staying in The Posting Room was idyllic. With a great variety of biscuits, porridge, jams and brew options. A rucksack of food provisions was barely needed! The final day of two involved a stroll to St.Conan’s Kirk, a church containing a bone fragment from Robert The Bruce. The architecture is splendid, diverse and varied. The architect Walter Douglas Campbell mixed in Norman, Roman, Celtic and other styles. There are famous ship timbers and it is easy to see why it was added to the Top 10 buildings in Scotland of the last 100 years list. The Royal Incorporation of Architects in Scotland made that list in 2016. The building was built around 1881 and renovated in 1906. Beyond the church there is a great tea room outside and the author Mary Stewart once resided at the nearby House of Letterawe.

Loch Awe Dalmally (49)

Stonehaven and Dunnotar Castle (35) Before visiting Dalmally, the whistlestop tour of Scotland began much further east in Stonehaven. The castle of Dunnotar has featured in Victor Frankenstein (starring James McAvoy and Daniel Radcliffe), Hamlet (with Mel Gibson) and other productions. For me, it was a castle I had seen in a book. Its clifftop location, on a kind of island of rock has long stuck with me. A walk from the charming Stonehaven Harbour, passing the dramatic (and deliberately unfinished) war memorial, leads to Dunnotar Castle. The memorial on Black Hill is imposing and powerful. A line of poem can be found inside the octagonal towers.

Stonehaven and Dunnotar Castle (21)

“One by one death challenged them, they smiled in his grim visage and refused to be dismayed” – Sankey’s Student in Arms

Stonehaven and Dunnotar Castle (66) Staying with another Graham – and Sam, in Aberdeenshire, an introduction to their master Percy and enjoyed wonderful hosts. Their house at the top of a hill gave the legs some good stretching but the location was peaceful and the room more than luxurious. The monk fish and chips from the sustainability champions at The Bay Fish and Chips was the best I have had in years. They were so good, a shitehawk (a gull) dropped a bomb across the back of my navy-blue shirt with precision. It didn’t get a single chip. Back off shitehawks!

Doune Castle (37)

Following a night in Stonehaven, a night in Stirling was next on the agenda. The famous National Wallace Monument was visible from the room at yet another AirBnB place with Iona and her family. After the quickest breakfast ever we headed to Doune Castle – as seen as Winterfell, Castle Anthrax, and series such as Outlander.

“Your mother was a hamster and your father smells of elderberries” – Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Stirling Castle (11) Later in the day the National Wallace Monument witnessed a 120kg man struggling up the stairs and then being thankful he had no hair to blow away, once at the summit platform of the tower. Taking in each gallery along the way on the steps down, seemed the backwards way to do it, but damned if I was going to take a break on the 246 steep steps upwards. The Guardian of Scotland and influence of legendary stories since (including Mel Gibson’s Braveheart) featured alongside exhibitions on Robbie Burns (the famous poet) and Robert the Bruce. The monument is dramatic and almost like something from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings…

From Dalmally the road (well railway) led ot Edinburgh… via Glasgow… and a route of other rained upon soggy places.

See ye efter…

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

Plastic or Fantastic #2 Undisputable Brilliance

29/07/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

In my opinion it should be a fact that, in football, and other sports too, all overseas fans are undisputable in their brilliance. The modern game has long drifted away from the traditional working class background of football fans. Women now attend games in their droves – and rightly so. The fanbases of many clubs feature disabled fan clubs and LGTGBTQ+ (I lose track of which letters are used and for who). This is ideal. Football isn’t a man’s game. It isn’t a girl’s game. It is for everyone. Whether disabled, a Martian or from Wales, the sack of air that can be moved around as a team is for all. I love it. It is such a simple game, to watch and to play. You can be Messi or you can be messy.

The benefits are more than just commercial. If 800,000 people a season visit a Premier League game from overseas, that means many will indulge in local cultures, see our towns and our cities and feel our way of life. They will join the clubs and their future identity. To some, they will worry – and others will feel xenophobia but surely 1500 Norwegians a week at Anfield ploughing money into the club isn’t all bad. Visit Britain used Ryan Giggs, when he wasn’t busy tapping his brother’s wife, to promote a “Football is Great” campaign a few years back and the Premier League is one huge advertisement after another, with some cracking games amongst the dull ones, that sell it.

There are negatives. Half and half scarves have grown out of hands. For cup final merchandise, it is a little acceptable. For a friendly game versus a team you’re unlikely to face in a competition, it is fine. In the league, against your rivals, no, sorry, no room for half of your opponent’s name on the scarf… Yokohama F-Marinos versus Manchester City, now there is a good memento. City v Utd on a scarf. No. Never. It is bad enough having them in the matchday programme. Football tourism in huge stadia is possible and can’t be seen to destroy the traditional fanbase. Those fanbases must adapt to survive and prices for tickets need to be local no global. Some fans know more about Football Manager, Fantasy Football than reality…

TV coverage has erupted outwardly, over Scandinavia, Germany, Ireland and east, west and south. The Premier League monster has become a global competition – the true super league for global talent. Asia and Africa are joining the league coverage fronts with consummate ease. As New York watches at breakfast, China watches at supper. Social media platforms and interactive coverage allow for unparalleled levels of game coverage. Long gone are the days of trying to find City at Watford on Setanta, or turning to Teletext for a goal update. The Pink has been replaced by Twitter, Facebook and a dozen other live feeds.

Young fans may be priced out of the game, but from the pocket of overseas fans, come a bunch of middle-class and well-to-do sorts. They visit the clubs shops and they buy as much as, if not more than the local fan. These purchases are akin to a pilgrimage to Mecca City [C’mon City Football Group, buy that club!]. Those keyed up on the latest game e.g. FIFA ’98 or wherever we’re up to now, have had a virtual education. The stats have been drilled in and names memorised. There is a blurred line far unlike seeing Tommy Doyle play for Manchester City’s EDS and then make the first team. These fans learn whoever is on that game, and hero worship tends to sway away from up-and-coming players or names. That is, until they’re exposed – and then the overseas fans are wild. These Harwood-Bellis types are wearing the shirt – and close to the dream of the fan. The two can evolve together. They can share memes and tweets, and all that, in ways older generations never came so close to their boyhood heroes (sexist comment? Yep).

The mass markets are open and with that you’ll get a crowd. Inevitably, plonk enough fans together and eventually you will get a truly fanatical kind. Those who form official supporters’ clubs and actively chase the dream of watching their club and being involved in their own ways. That’s what makes me admire the overseas fans. Anyone who watches a game in bed, on the other side of the planet or gets people together to share their passion and cheer City (or whoever else) on deserves credit. Modern football is expensive – and to trek around the globe seeking a game or two – or attend an overpriced friendly featuring a handful of first team regulars, with no idea of what the game will be like, gets my hat off, and placed in the air. Hats off to you. With your worldly curiosity, cultural awareness and passion, you’re welcome at the Etihad Stadium anytime. We are stronger together. We are Manchester City.

Manchester City’s presence in China, over recent years has created a new pocket. 13 Official Supporters Clubs, up from 3 at the time of their last tour in China in 2017, are spreading the sky blue gospel. City’s website, TV and media has punched highly at their fans, with huge following increases. It engages and it supports, holding an annual meeting with the Chinese OSCs. Like Match of The Day, they engage tradition and add a modern twist of flavour. Each meeting has given a great insight into City’s China strategy and set-up. They’re in it for the long-term. What I like to do, is encourage the newer generation of City fans to watch their local teams, watch some non-league football, see any games at professional level that they can and take from it as much as they can. To understand the game and the passion of fans, sometimes it is best simply to observe with no objective. I think fans of City, on the whole, understand football very well. They follow a local non-league team or they at least ground-hop around local clubs.

“I told the Ministry of Foreign Affairs it was a matter of humanity” – Sugihara Chiune

Sugihara Chiune is sometimes referred to as the Japanese Oscar Schindler. He helped around 5,558 Jewish people escape persecution and probable death in Europe. It was on this day, many years ago that he led with peace…

Next up, I’ll write about the jaunts around Nanjing, Shanghai, Hong Kong and Yokohama flying the sky blue flags… when I am awake more.

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

Next stop: Nanjing

13/07/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)1 Comment

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

34 years ago, Richard Skinner mentioned, “It’s 12 noon in London, 7am in Philadelphia. And around the world it’s time for Live Aid!” That’s the legendary concert that plays ever so well time and time again. But, whilst Twitter is trending, did the concert have an actual reason for showing? Seems to be of little note in all the flashbacks across the interweb. Whatever the problem was, it must have been fixed.

“All we hear is Radio Ga Ga …”

CITY OF SHANGHAI

My checklist from 2016, of things I must do in China has been reduced. I ticked off visiting Qingdao, flying a kite, and in five days, Shanghai, a city my grandfather visited will be marked off. I triefd Chinese art, caligraphy and kung fu. All were insults to their heritage. At least I tried once or twice.

Changning, Baoshan and Pudong districts of Shanghai once had Marks & Spencers. The city has a French concession region and the Bund is world famous. So, will I be in China or a European city? I’ve been reading up on things to do, places to see etc. Aside from City’s game versus Newcastle Utd or Wolves, I’ll get cultured in five days when I visit Shanghai.

#1 Shanghai Museum #2 China Art Museum (Line 8) #3 M50 for urban art & Jade Temple (玉佛寺/Line 13, Jiangning Road) #4 Xuhui Riverside Park wander. #5 Jewish Refugees Museum – and the ghetto in Hongkou #6 YuYuan Park #7 Sculpture Park #8 Wusongkou Paotaiwan (Line 3: Shuichen Road) #9 The 1933 Old Millfun #10 Zhujiajiao water village (Pine 17) #11 Huangpu’s Garden Bridge #12 Chuansha park #13 复兴公园 Fùxīng gōngyuán

I’m still trying my best to understand customs and Chinese culture. I’ll mark it as done. It will go on forever. I’m still trying to learn Mandarin (slowly).

The things remaining from that list of 33 now stand at just 5:

1. Visit Kunming and Yunnan.

2. See the Terracotta Warriors.

3. Visit Hangzhou, “Paradise on Earth”

4. Check out Jiuzhaigou.

5. Visit Chengdu.

CITY OF NANJING

First up, tomorrow I travel to the 2008 Habitat Scroll of Honor of China city that is Nanjing. I’m looking forwards to seeing the City Wall of Nanjing (南京城墙 Nánjīng chéngqiáng), a wall that heavily influenced the Forbidden City of Beijing. The Jùbăo gate (聚宝门 Jùbăo Mén) looks atmospheric. I may start my wall walk from Zhonghuamen Station. Keeping with the word city, there is Shítóu Chéng [石頭城] or Stone City by Hanzhongmen Station. Maybe I can look up Purple Mountain (紫金山 Zĭjīn Shān) because of City’s new purple trim. It has UNESCO status of some kind and many places to view that you wouldn’t see every day (the Imperial Tombs of the Ming and Qing Dynasties: 明孝陵/Míng Xiào Líng). The Ming Palace [明故宫Míng Gùgōng] located by Minggugong Station will be a good place to explore too. Most call it the ‘Forbidden City of Nanjing’. Or, for ceramc value, I can check out the Great Bao’en Temple [大报恩寺].

Nanjing seems to be a city famed for mausoleums and the massacre during China’s bitter war with Japan. The museum of the massacre [Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall 侵华日军南京大屠杀遇难同胞纪念馆 – Yunjinlu station, line 2] will be an emotionally addition to seeing the Nanjing Museum. Then there is a museum dedicated to Nazi Party member John Heinrich Detlef Rabe who saved sheltered approximately 200,000-450,000 Chinese people from slaughter by the Japanese. Rabe was the Nazi party’s local head, as a Deputy Group Leader in China. On one hand, he saved, on the other hand, he supported the Nazi cause. However, he did something monumental and saved many, many lives. Following his return to Germany, the Gestapo prevented Rabe from reaching Hitler. In his hand letters and documentation. His desire to influence Adolf Hitler and pass a message to the Japanese to cease their activity never was heard.

“It is not until we tour the city that we learn the extent of destruction. We come across corpses every 100 to 200 yards. The bodies of civilians that I examined had bullet holes in their backs.” – Rabe’s diary notes: December 13, 1937.

Soviet NKVD agents for Russia and then the British Army interrogated John Rabe following the war. He had a miserable few years following de-Nazifying. However, The Good German of Nanking (his wartime diary title), received food, aid and cash packages from the grateful people of Nanking. This continued until the Communists took over the city of Nanking. In 2009 a Chinese and a western movie portrayed John Rabe’s wartime experiences.

In 1948, the citizens of Nanking learned of the very dire situation of the Rabe family in occupied Germany and they quickly raised a very large sum of money, equivalent to US$ 2 000 ($ 21,000 in 2019). The city mayor himself went to Germany, via Switzerland where he bought a large amount of food for the Rabe family. From mid-1948 until the communist takeover the people of Nanking also sent a food package each month, for which Rabe in many letters expressed deep gratitude.^[18]

The south bank city of Nanjing sits in the Yangtze Basin. It was historically known as Nanking, which I believe was purely to confuse me. China’s Three Furnaces are Wuhan, Chongqing and Nanjing so I won’t be expecting to see any snow. The average July temperature is 28.1°C (82.6°F) and I’ll be using the subway’s Jinlingtong (also known as IC-tong) to escape the heat between places.

On matchday, I’ll have a gander at My Town Bar around 3pm with fellow City fans. I wonder which City Legend will be alongside City mascots Moonchester and Moonbeam. Then it will be over to the Nanjing Olympic Sports Centre Stadium – and I must get a quite unique photo opportunity with the Premier League trophy, FA Cup, Carabao Cup and Community Shield.

After Shanghai, I fly back to Shenzhen, whiz up to Dongguan and then zip over to Hong Kong the next day…

CITY OF HONG KONG

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

The £80 season ticket.

30/06/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

“Mr John, what’s your favourite season?”, Billy asked. His tiny frame jiggled around with excitement as he happily danced the question from his chirpy mouth. He looked in anticipation of my answer. In his eyes, I think I sensed he wanted me to answer winter. He could see that I was sweating from the 35°C heat. I have been quite vocal about my dislike of summer and heat since around March when the mercury hit 30°C for the first time this year.

To his surprise, I could see it in his eyes, I did not reply spring, summer nor autumn. The expected word of winter did not disembark my mouth. “Billy, I like the football season best.”

The response was quite international, “Huh?!” One simple sound of confusion with calculators flashing in his young eyes. And smoke billowing from his ears. His thought processes however surprised me. He understood, “You like the start and end of football games in the year but not no games.” Spot on. Grab your A-stars now and go directly to university. How perceptive of you Billy.

Now, flash forwards a day to older-than-eight-year-olds. During a conversation, I was asked which season I like best. I gave the same reply. Nothing. Not a single question or notaion of understanding. The boy in grade 8/junior school 2 was flummoxed. Uterrly mystified and totally foxed. So, rather than let him avoid the subject, I asked if he understood. He replied, “of course.” Very confident. So, I said, “please explain.” I didn’t expect much more information to come. The body language of the boy shown he had been thrown, possibly flabbergasted and bewildered. There was a rabbit in the headlights. He opened his mouth, “In winter it snows, so there is no football. In summer, it is too hot, so there is no football. In spring, it is too wet, so there is no football. In autumn it is windy a dry, so this is when the football season is.” I liked his answer, it had a kind of mathematican’s logic to it. I explained the traditional football seasons of Europe run from August to May. There are variations of course. I said summer football is a huge outlier and probably because the weather is too hot, the fields (pitches) too firm. His reply was, “Well, why is the World Cup in summer?” I said it probably boils down to availability and less interruption to less leagues. I said the winter World Cup of 2022 in Qatar will be an outlier.

My years have never been measured by lunar calendars, Gregorian dates, academic planners or such. No, I opted for cards handed out with the Manchester Evening News’s The Pink years ago, and other wonderful football season date lists. That first date tunnels utter anticipation until the close season becomes pre-season. Pre-season dates are foreplay to the full activity of the football season proper. Waiting for the football season is a time in itself. Here shirts are released, players exchanged, cold, bought and loaned in or out. Words of war are spoke and expectations set, high or low. The battle is far from underway. The Community Shield is looked at as a friendly, unless you’re in and then it is a trophy, unless you lose. There are contradictions in the making from supporters everywhere. Prices of season tickets, games, and all the accessories of the devout football fan are bickered over. “I won’t buy that” becomes an impulse buy. Quarells placed on pause since May (or June) slide to on. Fantasy football teams are prepped. Bookies collect their bets and forms.

TV subscriptions and schedules are juggled around bills and holiday plans. The ripple of every change is mirrored by the frantic actions of a football fan cancelling a wedding in Benidorm in favour of a weekend wedding at Bolton’s Travelodge. Well, Bolton host your team that weekend. Aberystwyth Town’s last season kit is folded away, and you’re pestering Steve Moore at the clubshop on a daily basis. You’re pinging off text message after twitter message after Whatsapp group query, “When is the new Aber Town top out?” You know that by the time your £80 season ticket is printed, you’ll have the famous black and green on your chest but can’t be sure you’ll be wearing it before Gresford Athletic or Llanidloes Town visit. You’ll dig out your oldest kit and call it retro those days. When is the Nathaniel MG Cup Round Two draw? You overlook the first batch of round dates. It matters not to you.

This pre-season I will travel further than before for City’s four preparation games. Taking in the Premier League Trophy in Nanjing and Shanghai, a game at Hong Kong Stadium versus Kitchee SC and then the EuroJapan Cup game in Yokohama against F. Marinos. Taking in a trip to Japan excites me. Time to do some planning.

Former City Manager Manuel Pellegrini returns to China having coached Hebei Fortune. Former sky blue hero, Pablo Zabaleta could face City. I’ve paid 288RMB ticket for each game on mainland China. Not a tenner in the sterling world, but not too expensive considering the tickets can equate to the below:

£71/£122 via ManCity.com. Newcastle Utd or Wolves v Manchester City. Fri, 19 Jul 00:00. Shanghai’s Hongkou Stadium.

£43/£65. West Ham United v Manchester City. Tue, 16 Jul 00:00.Nanjing Olympic Sports Centre.

I’m told my ticket in Yokohama was for a similar price to the 288RMB, although I’ve seen some weird four-figure numbers banded about too. This all makes Aberystwyth Town’s £80 season ticket look good value.

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

Delete social media? Bye to glaciers?

28/06/2019oyster28catcher (JRA)Leave a comment

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

The trouble with the internet is us. Us. Them and us. Me. Click of a finger, bubble butts and exposed cultures. One day we’ll all be preserved in the London Museum. Relics, with no use. Everyone wants their piece of celebrity status on the internet or so it seems. Actually, no, they don’t. The people who have too much time to avoid looking for jobs, doing stuff that matters and being useful can be keyboard warriors. Just like me. Some spout off about this, that and the other. Some offer informed views or share their photographic talents. Others slip in their technical skills or artworks. Many view contents not really suitable for children. Don’t lie. Your internet history has been downloaded – the moment you clicked this post. It can be done. I have friends in high places, Huawei… then there are trolls, internet bullies, lies, spies and down right spies. Even Part-Man-Part-Cloth-Part-Stone, Donald Trump is allowed access to the internet.

Reactions to news, events, celebrities falling arse about face on Love Island or some such other lighter-than-light-floating-turdish entertainment can be shared. News and politicians can be slated, viewed and opinions slammed onto an electronic plain of imagination. Today’s thoughts become yesterday’s angst and we get to laugh at our previous electronic Dear Diary entries, when they pop up on Facebook as memories. Only these electronic reminders of something that happened before are flung at us digitally. I like writing. I’m not good at it. It is my ambition. I am writing more and more, because if you pile enough shit in the right place, somebody will notice. Why hasn’t The Guardian called me yet? The conservative government are gaining strenth from social division. Few engage the conversation needed to oust them. Maybe I can write some more crap and engage someone, somewhere. Unlikely.

Maybe I need to frame a crime. I’ve been studying detective shows and novels for years. I will train a wild Western chimpanzee (from Liberia) to murder. The victim will be a captive-bred but escaped stray Eurasian lynx from Iran. The weapon of choice will be supplied by Britain to Saudi Arabia and found in Yemen before being filed down to be used for the evil act. However, is it evil? No, the Western chimpanzee must end the life of the Eurasian lynx in order to prevent the death of an orphaned Muslim kid abandoned in Syria, because the transgender adoptive parents from Liverpool and Manchester were in the gender-neutral toilets of Starbucks – the Sana’a branch.

Who would you choose to support? The chimpanzee problem has multi-layed problems. An American pet chimpanzee once bit someone in Connecticut. Not everyone likes Travis. The Eurasian aspect gives a kind of cross-culture problem for the Eurasian lynx. Then, you must consider the location, race, and culture differences. What will the journalistic bit-part character Jeremy Corbyn do? Especially, when he finds that his salary is being paid for my MegaCorp based in its new office of Riyadh. What if this was a story inspired by real events? How would you react? Twitter. You know it. Two web browsers open, one for social media, and one watching kittens dance suggestively to the music of Gnarls Barkley. It wouldn’t be an easy scenario for a newspaper to report about.

“We don’t want paedophiles round here! Unless they’ve really worked on their choreography…” – 2009’s version of me, marked the death of Michael Jackson with an immature and tasteless comment on Facebook.

My Aunty Susan rightly put me in my place regarding subsequent jokes copied and pasted from recent messages marked the tenth anniversary of Michael Jackson’s plastic nose being melted down. Even today, it is amazing how much respect Michael Jackson gets, despite the lawsuits and continual abuse allegations. Too much time is spent pandering to the needs of his estate and less talk or attention is given to the victims of abuse. Just like Jimmy Carr and other seemingly heartless comedians, sometimes something controversial needs saying or writing, even if the person doing so completely disagrees with it. Otherwise, we end up with a nation of Love Island watchers, completely devoid of conversation. England is becoming American on that front.

The bitter taste of supposed jokes about Michael Jackson still hangs in the air. It doesn’t mean that I am promoting said topic. I was quite shocked to see my words from a decade ago. Isn’t it time more voices condemned his music to the vaults of history? The talent and contribution to musical arts needs eradication through choice, not through censorship. The voice for promoting and celebrating Michael Jackson needs an airing too. He could have been innocent of historic child sex abuse. To quote MJinnocent.com there could have been “many inconsistencies, contradictions and outright lies being told about Michael Jackson” or not. Just like Operation Yewtree it is a mess, and one that may result in a desire by society to rid the worst types of crimes: child sex abuse. Or, we could do a Spotify and just add a mute button. Either way, the conversation cannot be ignored, because like historic sexual abuse cases, today there are in all probability a huge number of systemic problems likely being ignored by the top brass, globally.

Despite all of this, life is finding a way to eradicate these problems. Berlin is baking. Rome is melting. Spain is on fire. Britain is writing letters of complaint. The heatwave was warned to all. It arrived. It cooked. It killed. Like the Spice Girls it will keep coming again and again, and not just from the Sahara. Of course colimate change could be lies or truth. Greenland may be melting at an unprecedented level. Fake truth? Volcanoes going from dormant to active may be stronger reasoning. Is the weather stable near you? Are you experiencing snowfall or the falling of fires from the sky? Snow in June, in Italy? Are 8 billion tonnes of ice being lost from the Himalayas year-on-year? Do we need the third polar ice cap in the Himalayas? Is Greenland a safe place to travel? Should we still call Mont Blanc, Mont Blanc?

“Of course, snowfall can happen in mountain areas in June. But if global warming exists this shouldn’t happen anymore.” – Dr Marco Poletto, Geologist

If the world is warming, are you seeing flash floods and thunderstorms more frequently? Are these storms much more violent in nature? How many trees do we need to re-plant? Do sewerage works need re-designing? Should roads absorb more water? Do zero emission cities work? Are we thinking about the environment too slowly? Are European glaciers due to be extinct? Is plastiglomerate pretty? So many questions. Too many. Will mushrooms save the day?

“Let’s go to the Winchester, have a nice cold pint, and wait for this all to blow over…” – Shaun of The Dead

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