AKA Cosy Apologia (for Fray), Back to the Future or “The stars turn and a time presents itself” all of which alternative titles, will soon be explained…
Always start and end with a positive; that’s what we get told.
The month began on a high: a chance meeting with Leighton Baines in a supermarket aisle, and a look of awe and wonder on my son’s face as he met one of his dad’s heroes for the first (and I’m sure not last) time. He was a true gent – I too was star-struck – and even made it to a match this month, after something of an eventful season on and off the pitch.
Football has gone down in my list of priorities over the last few years, for obvious reasons, and might come back… but for now remains an occasional habit.
Indeed, according to my calculations, the last time I only went to one ‘proper’ game in a season was 91-92, and as if by magic, the stars aligned perfectly to coincide with two other big events this month.
On the very day Twin Peaks returned to our TV screens, for the first time since that same era -I’m three episodes in and quite enjoying the conundra – we had a lovely time at a christening and, lo and behold, there was another family also celebrating that day, who had picked for their godfather, someone I instantly recognised. Somewhat serendipitously, his ‘new’ (married) family live nearby; he has a son the same age as my B, and we reminisced about our time at school, as friends and as football team mates also in 91-92, the year our team won the league (losing only one game all season, our leading scorer with 127 goals) and went on to play together in a tournament in Holland.
I’ve still got the VHS.
It was a lovely moment; a nice reminder that, as David Lynch’s series taught us, ‘the stars turn and a time presents itself’ – however, the next day, our times took a turn for the worse.
It’s taken a couple of weeks to put into words, my feelings about the attack in Manchester.
Part of that is because, in these times we now live, it’s easy to pour out your emotions in 140 characters or changing your profile picture immediately, and let the world (well, your followers and friends) know that you care. It’s easy to put aside football rivalries, or the fact that you have no affinity with the place, or the knowledge you have a difficult decision to make… and that’s when life isn’t already getting in the way.
But if you wake up several times through the night with the feeling that something’s wrong and, when you finally check Twitter in the morning, feel a strange mixture of sickness, anxiety, worry, panic and grief, it’s more complicated.
I’m still not sure what to write; becoming ever more confused and horrified, as other events have taken place since then. London, Paris – places I know and love – but also further afield, and it doesn’t seem like stopping any time soon.
Our reactions to the atrocity were what many others will have felt, of course, but focused not just on the families involved but the immediate and distant future, when our kids might want to attend concerts and we’d want to meet them in the same spot.
And also, a massive gig the following weekend we’d been excited about for months.
It took a second or two to know there was no way we could go the biggest Courteeners concert ever.
Yes, I’m all for defiance, for carrying on as normal, for sticking two fingers up at those ‘losers’ and letting life go on… but something just didn’t feel right.
For me, it just felt too soon.
Too early to be having a good time.
Certainly, too early to be relaxed there or lost in the moment – as a Courteeners gig should be.
The guilt was too much – not just for the victims, but for our parents, worrying as they would, and our kids, who might never understand – and although I’m glad the show of solidarity went ahead without a problem and looked an amazing evening, I had to accept that had I been a young man I would have been there having the time of my life but – then, now, maybe forever, a quiet night in with the family was more important and rewarding.
I really hope something happens that this doesn’t become the norm but right now, I’m pretty despondent.
The horror of the news on a weekly basis make it so: events in London make that clear. It was good that Ariana Grande made such a statement with her admirable efforts to celebrate the city but I’ll be honest: it was another gig I’m happy not to have gone to: but again, I am of course glad people had such a good time, and those around the globe, got to see such togetherness…. Raising such an amount for an incredibly good cause.
Again, I’ll be honest – 24 hours after the London attack seemed somewhat inappropriate, but at times like this, we need a hero, and for me – albeit selfishly – the highlight of the MCR gig was the return of Liam Gallagher.
Regardless of the arguments which followed, about the absence of Noel and their stupid, ignorant family wibbling rivalry, he remains a hero of mine and meeting him outside FACT ten years ago is still another stellar moment of my life. “You’re f***ing cool”
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
And he was pretty cool, last Sunday night at Old Trafford. It all reminds me of the early 90s, again – as did Twin Peaks, Ciaran, my attendance at Everton… even my new haircut.
The 90s are definitely back, then; anyone who’s seen this season’s collection at Pretty Green, would agree.
Whether this nostalgia allows itself to replicate a seminal election result of the 90s, remains to be seen. Politics has been high on the non cognoscenti’s agendae for a couple of weeks; fair play to those who showed an interest.
Me, I generally keep mine hidden, but was pleased to share the positivity and, after two bad injuries to the little ‘uns this past month I’d just like to say SAVE THE NHS and that is all.
Talking of the 90s, the same decade brought us the return of some classic comic book heroes, which is why it was good that we were able to enjoy an eventful and fun half term of quality family time, including a ‘Superheroes and Princesses’ day at the local farm.
My little wonder woman actually wanted a Supergirl outfit and I was made up to find one for her – even more proud that she was the only one there. For the first time, she showed an interest in something other than the Disney heroines who admittedly have their place – but can be dangerous.
We had a great day, as did Mummy’s Little Ninja Turtle… Me and him also lay together on the bed and watched Rogue One recently; both loved it. Meanwhile, I’ve been watching Great British Menu and the climax of Masterchef, the eponymous film, reading War of the Worlds and The Artist: Being Iniesta (both great) too – finding time to revisit my creative wells, despite the changes in routine.
Half term was filled with good times, then: family get togethers; laughs down the pub; a romantic lunch for WW Sr’s birthday; cooking on the Champions league final evening… those few days were the perfect antidote to this exam season which feels more fraught than ever as I say goodbye to my form group after five years together.
I read a good thing recently (I won’t say where, in these times of political hot potatoes) by India Knight about the failure of our ‘horrid’ exam system, “what ‘failing’ does to a young person’s self esteem” and how “it’s soul destroying to teach children this way” which all offered some solace because she reminded us that “it’s important not to be replaced by a robot” and that “creativity is the future” which is good because I’ve got a little something planned for the summer.
All will be revealed…
The stars will turn; a time will present itself.