Summer ’25: I – A Quest for Hope

Manchester rain made a welcome return on Saturday morning. The sky cried for my departure. The greyness of overhead lines, concrete, and new high rise towers did not clash with the constant matt grey of the leaking vast sky. Blue skies and sunshine had greeted Manchester for months on end. The summer school holidays had now arrived.

Getting to Manchester International Airport’s Terminal 2 early required a 05:25am wake up, an early bus, and the 07:18 train. Kitted with a 20kg rucksack and a lighter 8kg daysack, I ran through my head the things that I may or may have not forgotten. Despite attentive planning and packing, a snag of doubt sat firmly on my shoulder.

Juneyao Airlines, complete with cluttered and near unworkable website for check-in, would be my carrier. Other airlines are available. However, on arrival, my world fell apart. Blood emptied my face my legs became jelly, and the shock of being told my visa had expired hit me like a freight train. It was not a good day.

On the train back to Manchester, I shook in rage qnd worry. I trembled. I vomited. I went to the toilet in other ways. I was empty. Panic battled with sensibility. I struggled home in a zombie-like trance. I entered the house, dropped my rucksack and backpack, and crumpled up into a bawling sack of self-hate, anger, and shame.

On telling the family, I set about rebooting myself and explored resurrection for summer plans. I immediately logged onto Chinese Visa Application Service Centre Manchester’s website and lodged my visa application. A trip to the library was necessary to gain scanned electronic copies of every passport page. And everything seemed to upload.

Sunday:

A day in the garden digging up vineweed and Himalayan-barbed-wire-bramble, with plenty of worrying and questioning of myself. A few video calls and some Bosch Legacy on the telebox. A day of limbo sandwiched by buying some Lego Duplo at a charity shop in Failsworth and an evening of cheese, sauerkraut, and bacon Polish dumplings. That all followed noticing my visa application as not being present. However, it would not allow me to apply due to a previous application. I wondered if it would go well.

Monday:

08:00 – Visa application appear online at Manchester Chinese Visa Centre website.

10:00 –  query visa at Manchester Chinese Visa Centre. Visa application received.

11:46 – email request for further information.

12:00 – further information sent.

Pottering around town. Waiting. Limbo.

15:08 – application approved. Email to print with code and hand passport in.
I legged it from the book and coffee shop.

15:24 – printed documents at Manchester Central library.

15:27 – arrive to Manchester China Visa Centre. Attempt to hand off passport and documents. Man at desk, “I’m sorry we don’t accept applications after 15:00.”
I said, “It says 10:00 – 16:00.” He replies, “That’s wrong. We open again for application drop offs at 09:00 tomorrow.” Thanked man at desk.

I’ll be back. The quest goes on. 🐝

Wednesday:

Using the mandatory bonus free day, I headed to Warrington and met Little Big Sis’ Astrid for noodles and a movie. A good switch off from recent tension.

Tuesday:

08:35 – arrival at Chinese Visa Application Service Centre, Manchester. 5th in the queue.

09:00 – Service commences.

Thursday:

08:40 collection queue, position 2.

09:05 visa in hand, all grand.

Go to bed early (16:00/17:00), wake around 22:00/23:00.

Friday’s plan:

Depart for Manchester International Airport around midnight.

03:00 – Check in.

06:00 board flight to Brussels, Belgium. Sing a Vincent Kompany song and wobble my backside like Jeremy Doku skipping past defenders. Look out for former City player Émile Mpenza.

11:40 – board flight to China, in Brussels.

Let’s be fair, I’m not so sure U.K. leisure or family visit visas are as fast.

17 KDB

Peak-Kevin De Bruyne may have passed and there remains just a few windows to see the Manchester City number 17 in action. This had been one hell of a decade.

The redheaded Belgian, reminiscent of Tin Tin, has put in shift after shift at the sky blue Etihad and all the places along the way. He has contributed and given it all in a footballing spell that has filled his home with medals and accolades. Trophies have swamped his time at City and without his contribution there would surely have been no Champions League finals in Portugal and Istanbul.

Whilst KDB may have appeared more serious in his finale season of 2024/25, his battling of injuries and frustration appears to have been brushed away. Now fans have started to see the master with the ball at his feet and one that is capable of magic, as witnessed against Crystal Palace. With a past stocked with dribbling, assisting, and sublime technique, it is no wonder the former VfL Wolfsburg man has played nearly 415 games for City. Scoring around a quarter as many goals!

At City, Kevin has contributed to six Premier League trophies, two (hopefully three) FA Cup trophies, five league cups, a brace of Community Shields and that all-important Champions League trophy. Whilst every Blue would have been gutted to see him injured in both Champions League Final appearances, all are thankful for his battling and composure on every journey through a decade at the Etihad Stadium club. Four Manchester City player of the season awards recognise the love of the fans of the Belgian playmaker.

The charitable and likeable De Bruyne has embraced City In The Community and other good causes, whilst keeping close to fans (where possible). His athleticism and range of passing has surely made him the best midfielder of the Premier League era. His assists and goals have squashed his then club record fee of £55 million (€75 million). At the time the media laughed and called him a Chelsea flop with little potential. That has haunted many a pundit – and rightfully so!

Alongside David Silva, James McAtee, Leroy Sane, or whichever striker he needed to feed, De Bruyne has earned every chant to the tune of Seven Nations Army (White Stripes). Wherever De Bruyne chooses to play next, City fans will watch with envious eyes. Whether we see KDB wear the 17 shirt at the FIFA Club World Cup remains to be seen. It would be a fitting departure to feature for Manchester City at the USA tournament, but who knows?! For now, let’s treasure the last days at City of an absolutely prodigious playmaker!

At City, we’ve been spoilt with a raft of neo-legendary stars, arguably transisting from Pablo Zabaleta and a raft of Mark Hughes signings through to the striking viking Erling Haaland. Before that cult figures like Uwe Rosler, Richard Dunne, and Shaun Goater gave us light for the 90s and early 2000s. Now, the City Football Academy is producing the likes of Phil Foden and Nico O’Reilly. So, what say, alongside Emile Heskey’s lads, a certain Kevin De Bruyne deposits his son to bolster “maybe in another generation.”

Oh Kevin De Bruyne…

Ronald Lindsay Johnson (24 September 1889 – 29 May 1917)

How do! / 你好 (nĭ hăo) / Namaste / Welcome!

Ronald Lindsay Johnson (24 September 1889 – 29 May 1917)

I knew of the Ronald Johnson Playing Fields long before FC United of Manchester went slicing into the earth around it. Located on Broadhurst Park, in Manchester’s Moston, I always recall the red brick cycling track within a fenced compound adjacent to the passing St. Mary’s Road. Discovering the Western Front Association website, I recently read about Ronald Johnson. Together with a profile on the Friends of Broadhurst Park, I started clicking left, right and centre.

Like many that saw battle in the horrors of The Great War, Captain Ronald Lindsay Johnson (picture courtesy of the Altrincham Guardian) died in action. He was just 28-years old. His shares at Johnson, Clapham & Morris engineers were put to use in creating a sports ground. Initially for employees it became a public ground in the 1930s following Johnson, Clapham & Morris’s move to Trafford Park. It has since seen cricket, football (notably Moston Juniors F.C.), school sports days, car boot sales, fun fairs and life.

I can still recall the damp earthly smells of the ground that measured around 8-acres, sandwiched between a primary school and number 335 St. Mary’s Road. The recreation area was in memorial to Captain Ronald Lindsay Johnson and opened on the 17th June 1922 (or 1925), with Ronald Johnson’s mother present. The cycle speedway track was unique to the area – and existed long before the Manchester Velodrome was created in anticipation of the 2002 Commonwealth Games. I wonder if any cyclist transitioned from there to the often named ‘medal factory’ in Clayton.

By 2011, F.C. United of Manchester were offered the land and their 4,400-seater stadium (for £6.5 million) followed. The name Broadhurst Park was naturally fitting, following a brief period as the Moston Community Stadium. The all-weather pitch has seen a Benfica B team all in a stone’s throw from what was once Moston Hall, and residence to local industrialist Sir Edward Tootal Broadhurst. The park itself a World War One donation to recognise victory.

The New East Manchester and Manchester City Council development, once the home of a metal working and fabrication business team, had been resisted by local residents. The loss of public open space coupled with inadequate parking provision seemed to be the main problems. 2,226 letters of objection (mostly locally sent) were beaten back by 5,635 letters (many outside of Manchester) of support. Manchester Council plodded on with a success at the Court of Appeal in March 2013. The covenant on the land has always been recreation – and for the people of Moston. The one thing I find upsetting is that there isn’t a plaque or statue to honour that for almost 90 years these fields held a different name – but perhaps it hasn’t been made yet, or notified well.

Significant contribution was made by the Football Foundation Community Facilities Fund, Sport England, F.C. United Community Shares scheme, fundraising, Manchester City Council loan and the Football Foundation Football Stadia Improvement Fund amongst others. F.C. Ted (see the link for reasoning about the name) moved in eventually. At an Annual General Meeting of FC United, 10 April 2014, the Ronald Johnson Ground was one of seven names proposed for the new ground. Sadly, the historic Ronald Johnson Playing Fields seemingly vanished. F.C. United played Benfica B to mark the date of Man United’s 1968 European Cup Final, the day Ronald Johnson ceased to live.

Ronald_Lindsay_Johnson

Ronald Lindsay Johnson (24 September 1889 – 29 May 1917)

Family: His parents were William Henry Johnson, died 1914 and Agnes Morton Johnson née Brown. Brother, William Morton Johnson, educated in Cambridge, died July 1916 (in military action, aged just 34 years old). Mother, opened the playing field in June 1922. Ronald was the youngest of six children.

Raised: Woodleigh on Bradgate Road in Dunham Massay

Studied: Summer Fields School, Eton. BA Classics (posthumous MA awarded), @ King’s College, Cambridge.

Lived: Australia, 1912 until August 1914 (at the Sydney branch of Messrs Johnson, Clapham & Morris)

Partner/Chairman: Johnson, Clapham & Morris’ Wire Works (engineers)

Served: As a junior in the Cadet Corps; then Officer Training Corps at Cambridge. Enlisted (2nd October 1914) in the 23rd Division [103 Brigade RFA], Royal Field Artillery. Commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant.

Rank: Acting Captain and Divisional Trench Mortar Officer (DTMO). Entered the theatre of war from 27th August 1915 (landed Boulogne).

Medals: 1914-15 Star, British War Medal and Victory Medal

Responsibilities: co-ordinating the targeting and positioning of mortar batteries

Notable events: Survived a rifle bullet to the ear, 19th September 1916. Evacuated by H S Dieppe (hospital ship) but returned to service by 11th December 1916.

Cause of death: Pre-Battle of Messines (Flanders, Belgium) preparations. Hit by a German shell, near Zillebeke Lake by ‘Hill 60’. He died in transit on the way to the Field Hospital near Brandhoek.

Place of Rest: Brandhoek Military Cemetery, Belgium (Plot II, Row D, Grave 1).

Commemorated: Dunham (St. Mark’s) war memorial and the Kings College, Cambridge War Memorial.

Other than the Ronald Johnson Playing Fields, he was honoured with the naming of the Johnson Chemicals Labs, Adelaide University, Australia. He is also mentioned in the Cambridge University Book of Honour.

Further reading:  Who was Ronald Johnson ? (David O’Mara, Western Front Association (WFA))

Thoughts on courage.

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

Bravery and tragedy seem to sit hand in hand, side by side. Wherever the former is, we’re usually shown the latter in the news. Tragedy sells. Courage, valour or bravery is not always frontpage news on its own. Superman’s cape draped over a chair sells better than him saving a kitten from a burning oil-tanker out in the worst waves imaginable. Some tragic news brings apathy – because let’s face it, much of the news we see is grim – and often, as is the way of the multimedia age and global connectivity. Sometimes we need to turn a blind eye. There can’t always be happiness and suffering are a worry many carry. The news does not shy away from such tales. It reports in all manners about lust, jealousy, hatred and hostility in equal-ish measures. What we choose to empathise in is up to us, as an individual.

On Monday, in Sìchuān [四川], a region renowned for spice, pandas and Kung Pao chicken, around thirty firefighters were killed. A huge forest fire engulfed them – and none could escape the path of the fireball. 700 brave firefighters had been trying to control the fire for several days. Sichuan is home to Manchester City’s new partnerclub Sìchuān Jiǔniú [四川九牛] who play in the provincial capital of Chengdu. I’ve grown up on a diet of London’s Burning, the TV show, famous for portraying the hardwork and lifestyles of firefighters. I almost became a firefighter myself, but instead, opted to go to university instead. I have firefighter friends. Around 343 fatalities from the 2,996 deaths on ro around September 11th, 2001 were those of the New York Fire & Rescue Services. Firefighters occupy a community of selflessness and put themselves between dangers and the everyday soul trying to survive. Some pay that ultimate sacrifice. On top of that, their mental health is affected and levels of suicide is higher amongst them than the general populous. Firefighters who faced the Grenfell disaster or other such tragic emergencies will surely lose a piece of themselves.

SICHUAN MESSAGE

Humans have always worshiped heroes. They may be Gods, they may be comic book figures, or they may have been very much real. Religions have plentiful heroes and examples of bravery. Some, like Islam, show control as a huge auxiliary to courage, in tackling the devils of life and spirituality.

Some religions and governments push embarrassment and disgust through their guidelines, wording and morals. That’s how stones become a weapon of execution in Brunei, right? Don’t worry, they need witnesses or a confession. Sorry, Brunei but your rules are cuntish at best. How do the private actions of individuals that cause no damage to those around you, affect your leadership or government or religion? It is utter bullshit. The Sultan of Brunei is cunt. I challenge him to a public conversation, face to face. A debate. Let’s get his problems out in the air – and his government’s worries. Come on Mr Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu’izzaddin Waddaulah ibni Al-Marhum Sultan Haji Omar Ali Saifuddien Sa’adul Khairi Waddien Sultan and Yang di-Pertuan of Brunei Darussalam, let’s talk. If you want to experience sedition, I’ll fight for another (woman’s or) man’s cause, with words. Give me my chance to show courage. I’m not writing from boredom but from contentment to your new laws. I hold these law in contempt of humanity. I’ll feel disappointment if you do not reply. I won’t be surprised as anywhere that amputates hands for thefts, brutally punishes minors for petty crimes and completely fails to prevent human trafficking. Their intrays must be overflowing with requests.

I always wonder if such laws are caused by boredom and loneliness or perversed arousal from power over the people. Do they grip panic at allowing too much freedom? Well at least we have Amnesty International, Human Rights campaigners and others to renew our faith in humanity. Again, they are all courageous. All too often they’re fighting for voices in former British protectorates, colonies and places rich in resource. The 159th member of the U.N. are a case in point. Perhaps the U.K. could withdraw the Nepali Gurkha battalion and other military personnel stationed within Seria. But U.K. interests in Brunei probably only stretch as far as having a stopover airport on the way to Oz and New Zealand.

慈故能勇 cí gù néng yǒng loving causes ability brave

 Socrates said a hero is, “a man willing to remain at his post and to defend himself against the enemy without running away” but back then gender inequality was rife. There has been an acceptance and anticipation throughout history of multiple religious saviours and possibly an end to suffering by a higher being, or two. I prefer to think that we alone can save ourselves. Many individuals work in conservation and humanitarian aid. There’re more heroes than we see in movies. They just don’t attract the same desire or curiosity. On a heroic front, Brunei were the first Asian nation to ban shark finning. So, every cloud can have a silver lining – it is all a matter of perspective. Some British Indians hate our new five pounds notes, because Sir Winston Churchill is on there. His willingness to let courageous Ghandi die on a hungerstrike and his general lordly attitude over the “foul race” of Indians and their own fault for “breeding like rabbits”. He wasn’t at all nice to Indians or Bengalis, or Hitler and co (but Adolf certainly deserved it up ‘im). His legacy can be hugely criticised. For me, the Royal family are the same – and Queen Lizzy the 2nd is on one side of the note. That’s history. It is more grey, than black and white. At least with busts, notes, books, documentaries, and more. Otherwise we’d not learn that King of the Belgians, Leopold II of Belgium was a bit of a bastard. Think millions of deaths.

Sir Winston Churchill said of courage many things, but he as both the hero and antihero, cannot be denied his power to compose and express. Courage over risk needs a personal fear to be conquered or managed. There may be deliberation but eventually an intention to act will be made. The courage could be as a perceived good act – or one that is believed to be noble. As noble as a lion or as strong as myself resisting a box of fresh raspberries. Okay, the rapsberries are gone. Not a fine example of strength, but moreone of my own humiliation at not enduring a test. The rage I have in not allowing a punnet of raspberries making it from the fruit shop to my apartment door. Okay, I show no remorse. Just resentment. Okay, not that. Sorrow that the raspberries have gone.

“Courage is rightly esteemed the first of human qualities because it is the quality that guarantees all others.” – Sir Winston Churchill

Emotions are strong things. I have an affection for those who are brave – and selfless. It gives me angst that maybe I’ll be called upon to do my bit. How will I react? I am in awe of thise capable of freezing their minds and cutting away from anger, anguish, annoyance, anxiety, despair, disgust, fear, frustration, grief, horror and shock in order to save other people – especially when they are unfamiliar with such strangers. That curiosity of my mind wonders how their self-confidence dominates pride and creates a social connection that rejects self-interest. The ecstasy of saving life must further create an anticipation of joyful hope. They never seem to panic or show over confidence, these superhero firefighters. They’re like you and me but made of stronger stuff, at the same time. They’re courage in a bottle. The bottle cannt be procured at a cornershop. It is ingrained in years of enthusiastic service. Our gratitude may be given from time to time, but these service people don’t look for merits and commendations. They get their heads down and do their jobs. Euphoria one day. Sadness the next. Depression waiting around every corner. I don’t envy firefighters. For they have a rainbow of emotions to contend with. It’d give me anxiety! I don’t pity their choice of occupation, but I do pity their salaries. Some risks deserve more surprise and trust. I feel guilty that the U.K.’s elected government is too busy wasting money on things that could fund those who put themselves in truly adverse situations. It is an outrage that the masses have such a little voice to show pleasure and show little passion in looking after our own heroes. Just like the environment, we’ll miss it all when it’s gone.

 

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