2025: just a reflection

A bumper year of ups and downs. More downs than I can ever recall. A tough year. A painful one. Loss and confusion has reigned throughout. Yet as we approach the dawn of 2026, there is reason to be optimistic. Right? If 2025 knocked the wind out of you, or it made you feel heavy, or plans had to change, then at least we achieved getting through this year. Survival was our summit. Now let’s climb 2026.

Been worried about my Mam for some time now. Wish she’d quit smoking and things would improve for her. Said farewell to Paul Hux, Mam’s partner and love, which hurt far too much. The end was painful in so many ways and reminded us all of how little time we have. We have yet to scatter his ashes. We will. As per Paul’s wishes. Ideally in better mountain climbing weather and with a degree of fitness to do so. And without rush.

Our kid, Paul Jr., has been near-enough unemployed all year and I’m far from convinced he’s trying hard to find work. Not that I don’t blame him, his confidence must be blown to shit after being treated like a disposable whore in the world of retail. If he had empathy and emotions he’d easily find a more social job. I really wish Mam and Paul Jr. a better year in 2026

Soon after my Mam’s ex, and my brother’s father, also called Paul, exited life. His near-adopted daughter, Astrid (my little big sister), was devastated and in hospital for considerable time. She’s better now and living near-independently. I never got on much with Paul but I did call him and kind of apologise for my behaviour as a teenager and he laughed it off. It was weird. I also helped him get some cash and a few bits to his hostel but a week after he’d left life. Astrid needs some closure and a place say her farewell. A tree-planting idea has been mentioned.

Then Mam and Paul Hux’s bearded dragon passed away too. As did my younger brother and sister’s mam Bernie. And new and old friends at football. It really has been an odd year. Work has been tough. Bugs caught me and life seemed to grind to a halt. Limbo was broken by news of the visa in December. Good mates have been around for me, even when I push them away, or hide away from conversation or life. I am thankful for Dan, my footy friends Haguey, Alison and Chris, Brahma, Daz, and others.

Panda GunDOGan has been spoilt by my Dad and nagged to death by his kangaroo-bollocked sized buddy Blue. Panda’s twin from another mother, Sky, the cat has really got used to her black and white oversized twin. It is great to see. Especially in winter when they’re cuddled up together. Heartwarming scenes!

Family life has been divided by geography but the green-lit visa has arrived. An early Christmas present. One I needed. I have been close to giving up and legging it back to China. Optimism has returned. 2026 is make or break. 2025’s highlights involved summer in Guangxi, Chengdu, Dali, Shangrila, and Guangdong. Some miles laid down and memories boxed away.

Escape has been difficult but through a quadruple helping of Doves music gigs, the sensational Divine Comedy, the magnificent John Grant (with the incredible Lynks), and an out of this world Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds at the Coop Live! Music has been an amazing escape. Like many walks with Panda. Hull Pot and Hunt Pot by Pen y Ghent have left memorable impressions from nature. I will return! At football we all lost Shez and others. Saying goodbye is not easy. I send my love to the families and friends. City, Manchester City, carried on forever more. Not a bad year after a transitional season that saw us finish runners-up in the FA Cup and 3rd in the Premier League. We’ve ended 2025 second to a powerful Arsenal and still fighting for 3 cups. Never say never.

On reflection, 2025 has made me thankful for many things: safe food standards; NHS healthcare that is accessible and paid through National Insurance; fairness and rights that are enforced and ones we can challenge via appeal (even if the archaic processes are slow); gun control; vaccines and their effectiveness; Bee Network and soon to be nationalised railways as part of readily available public transport; and family and friends for being there.

Sending love to those who’ve been there (wherever there is), family, friends, those who feel lonely during holidays, those who struggle to afford to celebrate holiday times, those who grieve a loss, anyone spending time with someone who isn’t supportive, the caregivers, nurses, doctors, charity workers, good samaritans, those battling mental illness and depression, and you for reading. Peace and love.

Intrusive Thoughts

Saturday was a tough day. Tough to get out of bed. Tough to put one leg in front of the other.

Heading to the ground, I suddenly felt the need to cry, and slip away somewhere alone. I’ve always found it easy to step back and find solace or pull myself up. Today felt different. It was as if some gremlin was hanging on my toes inviting me to slide under ground into a pool of blackness. I dropped my friend Nat a message and went for a refreshing wander. I thought about calling my best mate Dan and realised how much that I didn’t want to speak. I sat and stared at the bleak Ashton canal. Its uninviting tones warned away those beyond water. I peered at leaves and their array of colours. Autumn’s cooler breezes had arrived.

Motivation is limited. I feel energy levels have sapped. I don’t want to do anything. It seems like every day is a push against a wall that won’t budge. I have so much to live for. I have so much to be responsuible for. I am incredibly lucky. Yet, the coolness of autumn and the shedding leaves feel unwelcome right now. I know days and nights will improve. I believe things will get easier but today, like Saturday, it is okay not be okay. A cliche maybe. But, that is how I feel.

Negativity at football seemed magnified. Impatient fans failed to cloke their dislike for Nunes and Nico. Neither did much wrong. Both put in a shift. I felt like turning on fellow fans. Instead I applauded those players louder and more passionately. Armchair and stand managers should still back their team, no matter who wears the shirt. It didn’t improve my mood.  Then I pondered calling Dan again but realised I had no desire to talk. Sorry Dan, miss you matey.

I want to thank my friends at City, the ones I bumped into and nattered to, and remained with after the game for a while. Chatting to my mates, I happened upon a chance to talk to and get a programmed signed by the modest and splendid poet and author Lemn Sissay (OBE FRSL). His book Tender Fingers in a Clenched Fist has always stood out in my mind. Rain is another example that I can’t forget. And Daz, for the lift to Gateshead to see City draw with Newcastle Utd in the Subway Butty League Cup – and win a bonus point 7-6 on penalties. Daz, Haguey, Alison, Hagred and co have kept me sane for the last few years of football. A great bunch that have distracted me. I love my friends and those I encounter at work, at football, and in my life. They make me stronger and I hope they feel my heart.

And back to Saturday morning, collecting Astrid at the newly opened North View mental health hospital at Crumpsall. It was opened by Ricky Hatton. I couldn’t help think about his departure from life. I was born in Crumpsall, and I caught my vision and thoughts about my own mortality. I fear death. I have too much left to do. I also know how close the fine line between here and the next life appears. That void or whatever you believe isn’t far away. And at Crumpsall as I waited for my sister. I found my overactive mind imagining the ripple effect of my death. It hurt. It shook me. I questioned my own mind. It scared me. I’m not ready. I have much to do.

I played football again tonight. I didn’t want to play. I felt numb. I went to clear my head and pull my socks up. So, what now? Think I’ll call Dan tomorrow.

Everything is Temporary

No joy lasts forever. Nor any pain. Everything is temporary. Football is the same. The joys of Manchester City winning the Premier League for the fourth time, or the highs of singing along to Black Keys at a rescheduled gig in the Coop Live arena. Just some examples of highs. Lows: losing the F.A. Cup final, especially to Manchester Utd. Feelings come and go.

The Liquor Station, not far from Wembley, was a pub with a bouncing atmosphere. Despite losing to Utd, our fanbase remained in good spirits. Win, lose, or draw, loyalty is a fine thing. Many of us chatted, sang, and memories shared. The spirit of football drives away pain through positivity. City had lost their 5th game of the 2023/24, two less than the Treble trophy win of 2022/23. We have been spoiled under manager Pep Guardiola. To feel wonderful one minute may lead to lower spells.

The news today and tomorrow note that Pep is on his way out. Social media hints City will be charged with 115 alleged infringements. The usual crap that has haunted City since the Premier League made their charges known. Whilst Everton, Nottingham Forest and others faced charges and punishment for different reasons, City have strenuously denied the allegations as being a matter of guilt. Frustration can be annoying. Things twist and turn.

Drinks with Kellie, her son Ben, Ian, and partner ‘Elton’ Gayle (from Watford) made good company. A good breakfast, a great evening, and company sandwiching a poor result. City will be City. Typical City. Following that great evening, a car drive back led to just me attending the City trophy parade with a few thousand Mancunians. F.A. Cup defeat and bad weather didn’t dampen the atmosphere. A day. A moment. Temporary.

Nothing is ever permanent. Everything is temporary.