The calm before the storm and some devastating news - 2015 - A year in review

APRIL 2015 - Part 4 of 12

With one of the major events of the year out of the way, April felt a bit like “the calm before the storm”, as I spent most of the working month getting everything ready in the firm ahead of the BTMK takeover on May 1^st. The aim is to expand their Private Client department into one of the strongest and biggest in the South East and I am looking forward to the challenge.

There was however, one piece of devastating news; I took Dad to the Oncology clinic for the results of his Prostate Cancer tests. Unfortunately, it had not responded to treatment and had now spread into the bone. Because of his hyper-sensitivity to medication of pretty much all forms (even anti-nausea tablets made him sick) and generally due to his frailty (his weight had dropped from over 11 stone before Christmas to about 8 stone now), we were told that there was nothing more that could be done for him and it was just a case of keeping him comfortable for as long as he had left, whether that be weeks, months or years.

I guess it’s what I had expected but it still isn't easy to hear. Death is inevitable, one of the only certainties in life, but even though we know we can’t avoid it, we never seem to be prepared to deal with it when it happens. The doctors were unable to be more precise, but I think with Dad having zero appetite and eating barely enough to feed a sparrow, deep down I knew that it wasn't going to be all that long.

So most of my spare time in April was spent supporting Mum and making sure she was nourished and well enough to continue looking after Dad and keeping him as comfortable as could be.

Aside from that, which made this month quite an emotionally draining one, I took some cheer from the rising fortunes of Southend United, who won every game in April. The highlight of this month was a trip down to Exeter by plane for a load of us for a legendary weekend in which the game was secondary, but nonetheless we won with an injury time goal which had brought the impossible dream ever closer. 

At the end of March, we had needed to win our last 8 games to stand a chance of automatic promotion and as we had won 5 and then went on to win the next two matches, we were in third position going into the last game of the season, away at Morecambe on May 2^nd and a win would guarantee League One football next season. A crowd of us were going to go up on a charter flight put on by the club, and we had sold over 2200 tickets, meaning the crowd would be approximately 50/50 split between Morecambe and Southend fans. We had never beaten them before in a league game in 9 attempts, but surely with such a voracious away following and with them having nothing to play for, this would be our day?

A New Home - 2015 - A Year in review

MARCH 2015 - Part 3 of 12

March 2015 gave us a new home, which meant we weren't renting and one day would have a property that wouldn't cost a fortune every month! Grant House had been in my family ownership since the mid 1970’s when it was purchased by my Mum’s sister and her husband. My Aunt sadly passed away within a year or so of moving in, but Albert stayed until 1990 when he suffered a stroke and went to live with his daughter in Newcastle until his death a few years later.

My parents bought it from them in the mid 90’s and we used it as an office until the firm outgrew it in 2003 and moved to Leigh Broadway, but Dad continued to work from there and being a bungalow, it was ideal to see the elderly or disabled clients who couldn't manage stairs.

But as of now, it will be a family home again. It was a bit of a culture shock as we have had to lose a lot of stuff - it’s about ½ the size in floor area - but it is so much more manageable, giving us (theoretically) more time. We’ll see. But part of our New Year resolution has been fulfilled… we are getting smaller!

It wasn't without some sort of last minute drama though, as you would expect; the day before moving in the fridge was discovered as being ½ cm too high, which posed an interesting conundrum for the kitchen fitter who had to re-make one of the cabinets to accommodate, and EE completely mucked up our internet, meaning that for the first few weeks we had no Wi-Fi. This affected the girls more than us of course, and more than a few minutes amusement was had watching them either sitting against the back door or hanging out of the window in all weathers trying to connect to Mum and Dad's!

My parents, of course, were absolutely delighted with the move and I think Dad now felt as though everything was complete; I was 100% on hand to help Mum as he entered the final stages of his life. I know she was thankful for the fact that I was next door and this gave her great support. Dawn was brilliant and treated them as if they were her parents; nothing was too much trouble.

We have pretty much decided that this is where we’ll stay, as it is a place that will not be too big for two and also on one level, important in our later years as we enter our decrepitude. Having said all that, I sincerely hope that we will be here for many, many years as despite being nearly 10 years older than Dawn, I'm not planning on going anywhere just yet!

Into second gear - 2015 - A year in review

FEBRUARY 2015 - Part 2 of 12

Beginning of the month

Mid month

End of the month

Into February we head, having given our landlord notice for the house we were renting which meant we MUST be in our new abode by March 18^th, exactly 5 years to the day we moved in. The house has been great, if very big, but then I guess it needed to be in order to accommodate the brood. However, it was nigh on impossible to keep on top of the housework and consequently always looked like a bomb had hit it, forcing three different cleaners to leave due to the fact that they were “fighting a losing battle”. On the plus side, we avoided being burgled as any would-be-thief would think someone else had got there first…

Anyhow, this month was a race against time to make sure the new place was ready. A spell of horrendous weather now could spell disaster and delays for our moving in, so it was all a bit frantic with fingers, legs and everything else being crossed. In the end however, Mother Nature was kind. The month saw terrific progress (see pictures above) with just the interior decoration and installation of the kitchen needing to be done ahead of moving day, March 10^th. 

I had the Mercedes taxed and MOT’d, ready for me to start using and Dad was delighted. He was at this time convinced he wouldn't live to see us move in next door but despite him being in great discomfort, there was nothing to suggest that that would be the case and he was still being expertly cared for by Mum. He did have Prostate cancer, but then most men of that age have, and it's something we usually die with rather than of. He had received an injection for that last month and had an appointment to go back in April, so the medics were hardly concerned in the short term.

In other news, things were moving on a-pace as the details for the sale of the firm were finalised and a completion date set for May 1^st. That was such a relief for both Dad and I as it now wouldn't be all just on my shoulders and I would also be provided with a new challenge, something that I was looking forward to immensely. 

Another great love of my life, Southend United FC, were also beginning to mount a serious promotion challenge so that they could clamber out of the basement league, a division containing teams mainly playing "anti-football", i.e. stopping you playing rather than beating you through better performances. Quite legitimate of course, but pretty dull and boring to watch.

So this month, with lots ahead, it did feel like the year was going through the gears, shifting into second and accelerating towards the inevitable. Nervous and exciting times!

"In the first month of New Year, my true love gave to me..." - 2015 in review

JANUARY 2015 (part 1 of 12)

Our “12 Months of 2015” haven’t been so much like the song "12 Days of Christmas", more of an epic 12 part drama series, so let’s start with January, or, to be exact, just before that; 25^th December 2014, when I had Christmas at my parents’ house for the first time since I left home in 1983. The house next door – our old office and which in March would become our new home – was a building site (see above). I was in advanced negotiations regarding the sale of the business to a local firm of solicitors, BTMK, and Mum was acting as a 24 hour carer to my father, whose health had been deteriorating. I was doing the vast majority of their shopping, running around, doctor and hospital visits (all in between clients) so was pretty darn busy, as you can imagine. Dad hadn't driven since August and travelling anywhere was painful as he had a lot of discomfort in his back, neck and arms. It was clear that he wouldn't be going anywhere and as it was my turn to have the kids for Christmas day, we brought Christmas to him, emptying their conservatory in order to get everyone in.

Time was precious and there wasn't enough of it to do the usual present/food shopping, so Amazon and our local Cook! franchise became our best friends, providing 90% of the presents and 100% of the Christmas dinner, plus leftovers. It was a lovely day, Dad being in the middle of the table, surrounded by the most important thing in his world; his family. As it turned out, it was to be his last Christmas and I am forever thankful that we had that day.

Dad - in the thick of it on the left

So as for January itself, the house was coming along nicely, the weather was kind to allow the workmen to press on and Dad finally accepted he wasn't going to be driving again so gave me his 1997 Mercedes C180 with only 31000 miles on the clock. It has never let me down, unlike the Peugeot 207SW that I took to Oxford with a mate for a Southend game during this month (we won 3-2) and which broke down 10 miles outside Oxford on the way back, meaning a recovery job and getting home at about 01:30am.

There was so much going on at the time with the house renovation, the business and Dad deteriorating that New Year’s resolutions (if there were any at all) went out the window. I have found a social media post from New Year’s Eve 2014 during which both Dawn and I have vowed to be “getting smaller” in 2015. Certain aspects of our lives have, but sadly my waistline hasn't. Note to self - must try harder.

There, their, they're...

Many years ago when I was at school, my old English teacher Keith Warren (who may well read this and remember) told us about a local car repair centre that had a big sign on the window that read “EXHAUST'S”. He used to wind them up by going in and saying “Whose?” They used to look puzzled, he used to walk out and they were none the wiser. Well, I assume that was the case anyway, because the sign remained unchanged for years.

If you've reached this point and are wondering what the hell that was all about, then I fear the crux of this blog has already been lost and will probably irritate you as much as the flagrant abuse of our beautiful language has, in the past, irritated me. And others. (Yes, yes, I know that’s alliteration but it’s my blog and this is the point I’m making. Kind of. Please read on.)

Spelling is one thing. I have seen billboards advertising our local paper and they contain horrendous (and annoying) spelling errors, such as this -

Our main local shopping area has a very nice café with a sign that, until recently, had said “COFEEE SHOP”. There is a brilliant florist that has had her window professionally sign-written so that she can provide floral bouquets for, along with other things, “Extraodinary events”. The local golf club had a sign up for a few weeks that said, in foot high letters, “NEW MEBMERS WELCOME” and a sign was on the door of a closed shop for ages saying that it was unable to open due to a “brevement”.

But when it comes to the use of grammar and the correct use of a word... well I'm fed up with constantly seeing what people "would of" done instead of "would have", how they will borrow you something rather than lend it to you, how they "loose" something instead of "lose" it and then ask for "advise" and not "advice".

And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a winner. A current online advert for M&S displays a range of "Umbrella's" (we're back to the "exhaust's" thing again). The link is here - but by the time you read it, a correction may have occurred so you'll just have to take my word for it.

M&S Umbrella online blooper

Now I have friends who are far more "grammar activist" than me and for them, this has nearly caused a seizure. Marks and Spencer! A top 100 listed FTSE company for heaven’s sake! Now they really should know better; surely they must employ people specifically for the task of actually checking stuff like this? How slipshod is that? Does it show a sign of not caring, or is it just that there are so many people these days who don’t actually realise what’s wrong?  After all, for the last 15-odd years, “text-speak” has infiltrated into most written forms of communication and the phrase “C u tomoz” is almost acceptable. How long before our language evolves so much, that newspaper headlines use such abbreviations as the norm? Imagine - Kate Middleton gets another bun in the oven which turns out to be slightly overcooked... The Sun comes out with a headline like "Royal Babs L8. Due Tomoz."

So, I ask the question - Does it actually matter? Really?

Enthralled by the recent-ish TV series "Sherlock", starring the brilliant and interestingly named Benedict Cumberbatch as the great detective, I started reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s original stories, written 125 years ago. The language is quite different to that which is in common use now (it actually had to be re-written and dumbed-down for the American market. Fact.).

In the first book, "A Study in Scarlet", Holmes deduces that someone was a retired sergeant of the Marines from just his appearance. ""Wonderful!" I ejaculated." was Watson's response. "Steady on", I thought, "that must have been one hell of an exciting deduction! I didn't know it was THAT kind of book!" But of course, it was clearly just the correct use of a word that - as with the word "gay" - in modern times gives itself to a different and very specific meaning. 

If we go back to Shakespeare then the language is even more unfamiliar (check out the billboard advert below). 

Rewind even further to the 14^th century and Geoffrey Chaucer, known as the Father of English Literature, wrote "The Canterbury Tales" in almost a different language completely (Middle English); practically unreadable without a modern day translation.

Is it therefore just the natural modernisation and evolution of our language that we have arrived at today? 

The naming of a girl band a few years ago called “Girls Aloud” – clever word play – has resulted in many thousands of teenagers who now believe that they are not “aloud” to do something. Street speak has introduced many new words and rarely a meal goes by in my house without the kids declaring that their food is “Peng” (it’s a compliment – I think). The letter “z” has in many places replaced the letter “s” and generally things keep changing which, as you get older, becomes the hardest thing to accept. 

There is comfort in familiarity and any deviation from this represents another power shift to the young upstarts who, let’s face it, are going to be around in this world for longer than I've got left. I remember my old Nan moaning in 1971, when decimalisation was brought in and she couldn't understand it, that “They should have waited until all the old people had died first!"

Aside from the comedy of that statement, there is never a good time for change; we just have to embrace it and move on.

So is it in fact this loss of control that is the real bugbear here?

I have recently found a really good video article from Stephen Fry on the modern use of language and it’s a great retort to the grammar police. The link is here, I urge you to watch.

Stephen Fry - language excerpt

I must say that it has softened my stance and I am probably now more in the camp that thinks “Oh well, never mind.” 

Life’s too short, I know what is meant and that’s probably good enough.

Innit blud?

Male Order

I am often asked how I met my partner Dawn.  Many of my blogposts feature dating disasters in the time leading up to when I met her, but here I can recount the actual story surrounding the events that dictated how we got together.

Picture the scene; it is late November 2008 and I have been separated and single now for approaching 15 months, having had what seemed like more dates than a calendar. However, despite my eager search for long term female companionship, I had only managed a series of one-off liaisons, mainly being nights out in a restaurant, with about a quarter of those extending themselves briefly into alliances before I decided it wasn't worth pursuing.

So, with Christmas and New Year around the corner, I essentially gave up.. My dating site subscription(s) had or were just about to expire and I vowed to start afresh in early 2009.  But before I did so, I turned to Plenty of Fish, a dating site that boasts to be the largest free dating site in cyberspace. The trouble with free sites is that many of the people on there are just downright weird, although having said that, any single person I knew who had managed to fix themselves up with a partner had done so via POF, as it affectionately known, so it must have something going for it.

With a feeling of "What the Hell!", I departed from my usual format of a selection of pictures and slightly humorous site profile to one with no picture and a downright risque and very humorous profile (please see "The Day I Went to France and it was Closed" for what someone actually thought of my profile piccys). "Nothing ventured" I thought, it didn't cost anything and there was always the chance that there may be a fun date or two before my search began in earnest again in January.

I wasn't really expecting much contact because as a general rule, women don't respond or contact men without pictures (and not many had contacted me when I had displayed pictures, so what chance did that give me!). But I was amazed.  I had more interest from that than any other site or profile in the previous year. The types of women I had been previously trying to contact and who had ignored me completely were now almost forming a queue!  I ruled most out, either through their age (I wasn't interested in someone I could be either a father or son to), their location (I wanted someone within an hour and preferably in the same country) or who were smokers. And then I saw a profile than sparked my interest.

Elsewhere, and around a mile away from me, a yoga teacher had been dilly and dallying about her own situation.  She had repeatedly tried and failed to make her own marriage work but a recent episode had finally convinced her that the situation was irretrievable and that was that; she would have to move on. Being of a holistic nature, she embarked on a little bit of Cosmic Ordering. For those who don't know what this means, essentially it is creating a wish list and asking for it to be delivered. So a Male Order, if you like. She asked the universe to provide someone with the following attributes -

a) Tall
b) Good sense of humour
c) Good work ethic and who worked locally
d) Someone who was willing to hold her hand in public
e) A good conversationalist
f) Kind
g) Who had and liked children
h) Who respected her work and treated her as an equal, and, if at all possible,
i) Who had a physique to die for.

Aided by a friend, she nervously created her own profile in POF and waited.

And hers was the profile I had seen.

I didn't know about the Cosmic Ordering thing which is just as well because at that time I would have probably shrugged it off as a load of absolute nonsense.  But I tick all of those boxes (ok, except the last one as I have more of a physique to die from but it's close, right?) and the timing was absolutely uncanny.

2 The Mews

After a few emails and a phone call, we arranged our first date for the evening of the 5th December 2008 and I collected Dawn in a taxi before heading off to a local restaurant, 2 The Mews, for a romantic candlelit dinner for two. The taxi driver was ancient and her children who were then 11, 10 and 9, excitedly peered through the window to get a glimpse of their Mum's companion for the evening but instead got sight of a car driver who appeared to be in his eighties; not quite what they imagined.

But the evening was fun and after I had overcome the fact that I was unable to read the menu due to a) forgetting my glasses and b) the candlelight barely offering enough to see Dawn, let alone small print, I waved vaguely in the direction of the writing on the menu ordering "That one there" (it's a good job I eat anything!) and we set about the usual first date ritual of finding out a little about each other.

As it transpired, we talked for ages and I knew after about 15 minutes that she was completely trustworthy and would not hurt me.  This was a huge plus in my book and enabled me to lower the barriers that had previously been up as a self-protection mechanism and I let Dawn into my mind, my heart and my life.

The rest, as they say, is history.  I am publishing this blogpost on the 5th December 2013 and we will have been together five years.  Believe it or not, we have still yet to have an argument.  We both respect each other's opinions, feelings and space whilst encouraging and supporting each other through our daily lives, whether it be in the home or over work issues. Life is good and has probably never been better.

Happy 5th Anniversary to us!

Death Bingo

As a child, I never went to Skegness, as Cornwall was my parents holiday of choice. Skeggie (as it is affectionately known) doesn't conjure up a glamorous  image in the mind and so it was with some trepidation that the Band I am in (The Alvin Jones Band) accepted a booking there. Overnight accommodation was a must due to the fact that it is 160 miles and over three hours away by road, which is not exactly the sort of return journey you want to make at the end of a night when you've spent most of the day travelling, lugging the gear from the car to the venue, up the lift and stairs, across the hall, winding between the tables and then setting it all up before hanging around while they have the meal and speeches, playing for three hours plus and then doing the whole lot in reverse.

The Skegness Savoy

So, we were treated to a nights accommodation in a nearby hotel (The Savoy - or should that have been The Saveloy?) which was a short walk from the venue we were playing at called "Grand Central", Skeggies premier entertainment, shopping and dining complex.  This was a multi-million development, but having seen some of the interior decor I'm not sure that the currency in question was pounds...

Anyhow, a few people had reacted with a sharp intake of breath when I had told them where we were off to, but I have to confess that on arrival I was pleasantly surprised.  Yes, it's a seaside town which means that there was an abundance of Amusement Arcades, tacky gift shops and a whole string of restaurants all selling fish and chips. Yes, there is a Pleasure Beach, mini theme park, rides, a small pier and everything else that comes with the territory of being an English seaside town, which primarily seems to be all of the above with a distinct lack of warm sunshine. But it was clean and well maintained, and inhabited by possibly the friendliest people I have had the pleasure to meet. Wherever we went, nothing was too much trouble and we were accommodated every step of the way. The gig was great fun, we were well received and a grand time was had by all.  But the funniest part of this weekend was the game of what we christened "Death Bingo" (because a) we almost laughed ourselves to death watching it, and b) some of the participants looked nearly dead) that took place in the Savoy while we were waiting to go along to the Grand Central for the main event.

The "multi-million" Grand Central

We had arrived at about 4, unloaded, set our gear up and then wandered along to check in at the Savoy. With an hour or so to kill, we opted to have a drink in the hotel bar, which was empty on our arrival. However, within just a few minutes the dining room had emptied and we were joined by 20 or so ladies obviously out on a "Jolly".  They were, I would say, all in their late 70's and were very loud, but not in the "Essex Girl" sense. No, I think they were just loud because they were probably all a bit deaf and couldn't hear each other!

After a few minutes a lady who appeared to be their leader/organiser started selling Bingo cards.  She wisely avoided us, smiling and saying "'Ay oop, these Gents won't be wantin' ta play Bingo" and then proceeded to spread all of the money, markers and coins out all over the Pool table in the middle of the room.  Bang went a game then!  No chance!

Enter the bingo caller; a man in middle age with a blond quiff, baby pink V-neck jumper and a voice that made Graham Norton sound masculine.

"Ooooh, Ladies, welcome and we'll soon be starting the Bingo" he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly in all directions as he minced across the room.   "This game is a Full House game, no lines.  Off we go, can we keep the noise down please?"

The hubbub in the room failed to subside as he set up the electronic bingo machine and tried to make himself heard.  "Ladies, ladies, please, I'm about to start."  Our first number is..."

"Just a minute, 'ang on, I need me glasses an' thur in me bag over thur." said one.  "Oh, Gladys, for God's sake, yorra nightmur!" said the organiser.

"Right, are we ready now?" the caller continued. "Our first number is.... is... hang about... our first number is... Zero!"

Quizzical looks flew across the tables as the hubbub increased.  "Whaddya mean, zero, thur's no bloody zero on the card." claimed one.  "No, no, it's not working," the caller said, there must be something wrong with it."

"Get a move on!" said another.

"Ladies, please, I'm trying to start. Ok, here we go, the first number, one and three, 13.  Second number..."

"Hold on, Sue, have you gorra pen, mine's run out" said another player.

"What was the number again?" asked someone.

"Thirteen."

"Thirty?"

"No, thirteen!"Come on, ladies, keep it quiet!.


"What's the second number?"

"We haven't done the second number yet.  I'm just about to.  The second number is... four and seven, 47."

"Right, I've got my pen, what was the first number again?"

"Oh my Lord, thirteen!  Ladies, please settle down and pay attention!"

"I'm lost.  Has he called the second number?  I thought we'd just had 13."

And so on.  After a few minutes the caller did restore order and all was going well.  Then, Gladys called out "Line!"

"No, no, thur's no lines in this game, I said that."

"Oh, sorry."

The game continued for a few more minutes, until

"Line!"

"No, no, no, I've already said, thur's no lines in this game!  We said that a few minutes ago.  Full House only!"

"Oh, sorry, sorry, I was gettin' all excited as well."

"Ladies, can I please say again, it's a Full House game, thur are no lines!".

And so the game went on... and on... and on... and on, so much so that I was beginning to wonder if there were actually any numbers left.  I was thinking how funny would it be if all the numbers were called and no-one had a Full House..  and then the machine stuck on the number 24.  Despite all efforts, it would not budge.  The organiser came to the rescue.

"Ok, ok, I'll try and sort it out." she said, at which point she began fiddling with and then banging the machine.  It remained stuck on 24, then started going back through the numbers that had been called.

"15, 92, 65, 54.."

"We've 'ad all of them!" came a voice from a far table.

"Yes, I know, but I've got to go back through them all. I can't help it." said the organiser.  Groans filled the room.  "Look, look, it's simple, if we have to start again, then if he calls a number you've got then just mark it off again but if it's not marked then don't. Oooh, you know what I mean."

Well no, I don't think anyone did.  I'm still trying to fathom it out myself.  Unfortunately, at this point we had to leave but tears were streaming down our faces - to be honest you probably had to be there - and I have no idea if a) anyone actually had a clue that they were the source of our amusement, or b) whether or not they finished their game.

However, there was one final moment at breakfast the following morning that topped everything. Gladys loudly announced that she had a massive bruise on her thigh and she hadn't got a clue why.  It was the organiser who reminded her, equally loudly, that it was probably due to her antics in trying to straddle the Pool table the night before.  Gladys agreed.  It appeared to be a serious comment.

The mind boggles.