Month: April 2018

Recent events have led me to reflect on all the things I’ve achieved in life, especially as I approach the top of the hill.

Being a best man recently, reintroduced me to friends I made twenty seven years ago; meanwhile, I bumped into my geography teacher from the same time and my cousin prepares to renew her vows for a silver anniversary.

It all got me thinking.

I have fallen in love with ‘Wonder’ by R. J. Palacio – the book has pretty much changed my life – and was teaching recently about Mr. Browne’s precepts and I discussed with a class, the many things I’m proud of. Family, friends, teaching… the three degrees, the flexibility and versatility and designing several singles and a top ten album and having the artwork in the museum for five years… being a mentor, a role model, a best man, a brother and son and father and husband.

As an aside, I’m not showing off; just trying to be truthful, and to justify what’s to come…

It got me thinking about a small, separate part of my life which has actually come to offer several seminal moments which I feel very lucky to have experienced and still can’t quite believe some of which have actually taken place.

I’m talking about meeting my heroes.

There’s always been a fine line between acknowledging being close to greatness and being a celebrity groupie / stalker / any other term of negativity and in today’s society, that line is finer than ever. Online accessibility, mobile phone use and general popular culture trends mean that Andrew Warhola’s assertion that ‘everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes’ has come true and even the artist’s own correction to that quote – ‘everyone will be famous in fifteen minutes’ – have come true.

I’ve always been interested in being close to famous people… I think most people are. I still have my autograph books from childhood, when we waited at the stage door of one of the piers in Blackpool for Lenny Henry and Tracey Ullman and then met Eddie ‘the Eagle’ Edwards whose signature I cherished. I’d make my dad set off three hours early for my first few matches, to meet the players on their way in and if possible get a photo with to document the moment. Like Ricky Fitts in ‘American Beauty’, I just had to remember the moment.

I always needed to remember.

Time went on and I entered the world of adulthood, suddenly mixing in circles that muddied the waters of celebrity and blurred the lines between ‘them’ and ‘me’. Autographs gave way to selfies or tweets, whilst experiences replaced the signatures, such as drinking with Hollyoaks actors, having Antony H Wilson’s mobile number in my phone until the day he died, donating artworks to Turner Prize winning artists and then working closely with a band I would regularly see on TV or at signings or have pupils fawning over.

Meeting slebs didn’t lose its impact, I just became more comfortable with it, and was happy to tell celebrity chefs what my kids thought of them or asking a royal to send me some of her carrots because I came to realise they are just normal people who happen to be famous and there, but for the grace of God, could have gone I, who went on to do something arguably more important and difficult and therefore, me meeting them is – maybe – just as memorable for them.

It’s a crazy notion, but keeps me going.

I like to think I made an impression on some of them at least, and hope, if you’re reading this, you remember meeting me as fondly as I do you.

In no particular order, here’s a few highlights of my celebrity-meeting career with a nod to Billy Joel and the MerseyBeat poets:

Pat Nevin as a kid, local radio DJs, Beckham (Geri’s number?) and David Morrissey.

 

Leighton Baines in Waitrose, speaking French to Cantona, talking girls with Ifans, and Robert Carlyle.

Touching Tarantino, telling Liam Gallagher he’s cool, Mani loving my hat, Shearer dropping my pen

Offering Dunc my GCSE artwork, cookbooks off Aiden Byrne, Pierre Koffmann, Paul Askew, League of gentlemen…

Alonso – hate and love you – Millwall with Danny Baker, Carra in the café, Gazza with the shakes

Tony Cottee, Steve Wright, Johan Cruyff on my flight, van Nistelrooy, Jade Goody and Seamie Coleman…

Howard Kendall signing cheques, Graeme Sharp the FA Cup, a very moody Mignolet… who else do I have to say?

Grayson Perry owns my pot, Tracey Emin has the lot, Richard Ashcroft in the Cotswolds and Jackson (of the snakes)

Reid, Kanchelskis, Southall, Van den Hauwe – all with the kids, plenty more to come… that’s what happens now

Peter Blake, Jamie Oliver, Camilla with the carrots, Dec agreeing I look like Darius… Vic Reeves p**s artist

James Dean Bradfield, Max and Bombhead, Clyne and Parkinson in the school, then there was Steve Cram

Richard Hawley Parr Street, Tony Wilson dj’ing, Wombats in the flat and school, and Holly Valance.

There will be many more who have disappeared in the haze of a drunken – or starstruck – hour, too. All pivotal and incredibly important to me at the time… well, some more than others.

Especially the footballers. Even the most eminently forgettable Everton player will have etched himself in my memory if he stopped to sign autograph for me or, God forbid, I bumped into him somewhere. However, the top three ever were probably Cruyff at the airport, Cantona and Ferguson in terms of sporting stars; meanwhile Gallagher, Ashcroft and Hawley in music.

However, none of the above – well, maybe a couple of exceptions (Cruyff and Ferguson) – had had the effect on me and my life that Liam Fray has had, though, and meeting him two weeks ago was particularly incredible.

Some people scratch their heads… others question, “and what?” but to me – who has some of his lyrics tattooed on my chest because my entire wedding speech was based on one of his songs – it was up there with some of the greatest moments of my life.

Not the higher echelons, like my kids being born or my wedding day, but the next level, because this guy – and his words – mean so much to me. I’ve seen him sing live ten times or more.

I’ve bought the merchandise, watched on YouTube countless times and danced around like a d’head but not cared because I was having the time of my life accompanied by his dulcet tones. I’ve spent hundreds of pounds on his oeuvre, his t-shirts, his gigs, having the time of my life… and I’ve admired his dress sense, liked his Instagram posts, and his words… Man, his words.

This was a week before we crossed paths.

The underdogs, the bridesmaids, getting noticed by the masses at last. even my mum was watching, and texted me about it:

Let’s just say, he is a bit of a hero of mine.

Morrissey didn’t get the honour of a mention in my speech, or a tattoo (yet) and, given his particular aloofness and distance, Liam is probably – arguably – numero one in my list of the possible people currently alive to meet.

You can guess, by now, what happened when we were out to celebrate our sixth year anniversary.

Sat by a widow, we were discussing the restaurant décor and potential colours for the front of our house (currently being rendered) when a familiar face walked past outside.

With the manager of the Courteeners.

I’m such a fan.

“F***ing h***, that’s Liam Fray!” I exclaimed and didn’t run – I kept some dignity – but briskly walked outside to greet the great man.

At this point, I admit, it all went a little Jed Maxwell.

I don’t mind admitting it, because it was a dream come true to have a conversation with this guy whose words I’ve listened to a thousand times.

He and his manager were a little taken aback when I lifted my shirt to reveal said tattoo but he liked it, and swore me to secrecy about why he was in town. We discussed meeting Morrissey, my missing the gig the previous weekend, and took selfies before explaining my wedding speech in detail. I do wonder what he thought of this oddball, six years his senior, who made the most of a once in a lifetime opportunity, and just hope he realises how much he has affected mine for the better, with his words of wisdom and kindness when our paths crossed fleetingly for a couple of moments.

People walked past and they clearly didn’t recognise this genius before them – him, not me – but some people looked and wondered, hence my distracted face in the profile pics in which he returned to being the epitome of cool. He wandered off into the city, I returned to the last of the ladies, the belle of the ball, and I entered a dreamlike state for a few minutes full of teary eyes as I wondered if it was all just a dream, dreamt by another.

It wasn’t.

It was definitely real.

Always meet your heroes.

“I am not a number! I am a free man!

“YOU ARE NUMBER SIX!”

Talking of weddings, it was our sixth anniversary in the middle of them all and we celebrated, as has become customary, with a special meal together.

My dreams of winning Masterchef may have been shelved, for now, but the traditions of our enjoying fine dining together once a year are upheld every April; planned months in advance, with every mouthful savoured and memories cherished.

Before we married we had a few memorable evenings at special places; Fergus Henderson’s St. John (bone marrow, eel, hare… all glorious) and the Carriage Works here in LPL as well as Anthony Bourdain’s Les Halles in New York. But, it really all started at L’Ortolan in Reading. A wedding present and introduction to the world of the sommelier, expertly matching wine for our enjoyment.

First anniversary? Negresco in Nice. Waiter was Franck, looked after us so well as Lisa was ‘enceinte’ and I had a wonderful steak tartare made tableside.

Second? L’Enclume. Unforgettable attention to detail and so many things of beauty.

Third was at Manchester House. Really well looked after, very clever combinations and an hour in the company of chef patron afterwards.

Fourth… Northcote. I got a tour of the kitchen as compensation for – pregnant again – wifey being sick. The food was amazing, by the way.

Adam Reid at The French in Manchester was the fifth, and arguably the best yet. Dramatic and theatrical, with a stunning soundtrack to match and again, what a great guy.

All of which meant that our lunch at Wreckfish had a lot to live up to… and boy, did it deliver.

Walking in, I saw they had Inedit on draught. A beer created by the great Ferran Adria to accompany pretty much any meal, this was the first time I’d seen it on tap so I already had a good feeling.

Something magical happened before the meal, so now, it’s my new favourite restaurant.

When we were discussing the paint colour as an option for our house exterior, and I saw one of my all-time heroes walk past the window, I kind of knew this was going to be an unforgettable couple of hours.

We ordered food and wine and were impressed by the relaxed vibe of the place. Very ‘bistro-y’ with an open kitchen and extremely welcoming, which you’d expect from a place launched via crowdfunding. Friends have eaten and been impressed by the sister ventures over the water, and I’d been impressed by Gary Usher (as well as his tattoos) on the TV and in interviews, plus with an upcoming Prescot addition to the family.

You can assist in the crowdfunding of Pinion… find out more here

The value of the fare on offer was incredible, too, especially given the quality of what we were about to receive.

We’d had a drink beforehand in the converted church that featured in The Golden Vision, so it was appropriate that – for what we were about to eat – we were truly thankful.

Starters, then… Ox heart like I’d never tasted; burrata and wild garlic sauce which was both soft and vibrant, green, punchy. Mains? I opted for the braised featherblade of beef with celeriac puree and buttered hispi – the most amazing bit of cabbage I’ve eaten since holidays at my grandparents -and WW opted for the Confit duck leg with an amazing pearl barley broth and kale. All accompanied by the most decadent and moreish parmesan and truffle chips.

The heart sang; the stomachs smiled in agreement.

Service was excellent, too, and we can’t wait to go back.

No room for desserts, we indulged ourselves in a double espresso and a cuddle of a baby with a couple on the next table who’d travelled over from Leeds for the experience. They, like us, were savouring every moment, every mouthful, and made us want to rush home to the kids but recognise how lucky we were to have had the opportunity to enjoy the couple of hours – and courses – as much as we did.

All in all, a perfect way to celebrate our six years of wedded bliss. We even receive some heavenly fudge and honeycomb, to acknowledge the ‘sweet / sugar’ symbolism.

In summary – just in case anyone wasn’t sure – I would urge anyone with tastebuds, an interest in supporting independent ventures or just a free couple of hours for a memorable experience, to go to Wreckfish.

All the great things in life come in threes: Back to The Future. The Holy Trinity. Adidas. Leighton Baines.

Similarly, the best stories, such as ‘A Christmas Carol’, delve into the past, present and future – just like the BTTF trilogy did, too – and both prompted big changes in the lifestyles and life journeys of the protagonists they feature.

Meanwhile, I think I’ve started my mid-life crisis: I’m constantly reflecting, documenting and planning – and not just in the day job. I’m adapting my look, buying tuxedos and planning more tattoos… let’s go back to easier times: 1998, to be exact.

The Past

I’ve been living back in the nineties for a while. Fashions, music, memories of growing up… Next week we celebrate two decades since I ran on the pitch on the last day of the season to celebrate survival with ‘Big Rich’ in the rain.

In those twenty odd years since that era, I’ve also become close friends with two men who played integral parts in my own wedding and over Easter, got married themselves.

Two colleagues also tied the knot during the holidays, and we wish all the couples the very best of love and luck in the future.

All the events were special and memorable in their own rights, and a good time was had by all at each – but for very different reasons. On the first occasion, we ended up on the darker side of town until the wee small hours: in fact, the latest night out I’ve had since becoming a father.

Saw one of my favourite paintings… revisited old haunts.

Drinking shots with ex pupils, we had a great time, but it was a timely reminder that we’re not nineteen forever, and to pull ourselves together… though we did it all again a few days later in beautiful surroundings, and I learned a wonderful new word which summed up the groom – and me, at times –very nicely.

Loquaciousness is a virtue.

It makes my job more enjoyable, builds relationships (and profiles online) but can sometimes get people into spots of bother if an injustice has been done; indeed, only last month two witches debated the issue in the presence of winged monkeys but thankfully, like in the film, the good one was victorious. Similarly, speech – written this time, as first person narratives – had a life changing  impact when I read two powerful (albeit very different) books which aren’t necessarily aimed at people like me but got me into the head of both a ten year old boy with Treacher-Collins syndrome, and a sixteen year old #BlackLivesMatter protestor who witnessed a terrible injustice.

Wonder, in particular, absorbed me completely and I love everything about it. Please, please read it and fall in love with it like I – and my classes – have.

The present

Back to the weddings, and it was nice to be around such love on the anniversary of our own special day, six years ago. We would celebrate with a very special meal and guest, the following week… but more of that later.

The first was in Shropshire and, on the way there, I saw my work from a previous life which suggested good omens for the happy couple.

Once there, we got ready and rushed to the idyllic venue where we mixed with fascinating people in a fairytale setting.

We felt very special and humbled to be part of such a wonderful event…

The boys were back… Not in town, but somewhere altogether more special and memorable.

After a beautiful ceremony in a most romantic landscape, the perfectly chosen reading, drink, dinner and dance it was back to normal life of trips to the beach, museums, attempting to rest…

First dips in the sea in the sunshine and singing in the rain.

We also spent time trying on our new trainers:

Watching Matilda:

Celebrating the genius and glory of Andres Iniesta Lujan:

Making trips to Tressell’s grave:

And just doing normal, everyday stuff, like measuring one’s wingspan at KSP.

The third and final wedding of the fortnight was the most unusual as it was Vegan and (thankfully) teetotal. I was the proudest (joint) best man that ever lived, though traditions went out of the window and for that, I was glad.

The day before, we arrived at this beautiful house on Tooting Common which has been the location for several photo, film and cookery book shoots and there were even ring tailed parakeets in the garden.

Just… wow.

The kitchen itself was immense, and a walk down the high street whetted the appetites although we stayed true to the theme of the weekend and loved the vegan diet.

It was so lovely to spend quality time with Jay, his lovely wife Helen, and various family and friends who were joining in the fun.

The ceremony itself was very special, at the King’s Road Chelsea Town Hall:

Then it was back to the house for the speeches…

I won’t relay the whole speech, but will offer the edited highlights to give you a flavour of what I spoke about. I nearly cried at two points, but overall am proud of my contribution.

I wore a Sgt Pepper’s t-shirt to remind everyone that ‘all you need is love’ and hinted at some of my memories with the groom: him lying on a car bonnet with trousers around his ankles after a house party, and unrelated near fights in Lancaster; sombreros in Durham; crazy wine bars in London; injured animals in Brisbane and him Upsetting a room full of people on my wedding day before two fantastic nights of the London art scene in 2012.

We’ve shared two memorable non stag dos, one to Barcelona for art galleries, beer and football and most recently a vegan meal at a posh restaurant which shows how we’ve grown up. I wrote recently about the trip – Coogan and Brydon, it’s all on youtube… Both occasions offered us chance to reflect on the monumental changes our lives have gone through since we first met on our first day of year 7, twenty seven years ago.

I say first day at school, actually, we had met before then; on a football pitch at the Reebok Soccer 6s competition when I scored past him for my wonderfully named team ‘Green Graffiti’ and then on Christ Church field when our primary schools met… That we became friends was incredible because Jay is so competitive that he normally falls out with people who beat him. I’ve seen him smash many a tennis racquet and gold club in anger; even the bananagram sets are not safe in his hands.

Foreign travels, the travails of love and work and modern life means that apart from a drunken meeting a couple of years ago, I’d not seen the family for about twenty years – and loved meeting the bride’s family, so welcoming and generous and having heard so much about them; further thanks and congratulations.

I thanked the bride for making my friends life so complete. The first time I met her we discussed Alan Partridge at length, and I was stunned by her niceness, so offered advice to the newlyweds on behalf of Poppy troll who declared the immortal words, “it’s not all cupcakes and rainbows but it’s real love”.

I decided I should read a poem and their meeting as vegans – plus the pragmatic, stripped down, homely and ‘real’ feel of the day- meant there was only one option.

Valentine

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

a strange choice, some of you will think: Onions? Well, I was trying to be truthful; I was being honest about love and its everyday practicalities. I wanted to purvey the message that you have to work at it and, peeling back the layers, works out ok in the end.

Anyway, being a best man for Jay, I felt truly honoured… but don’t ever want to do it again. Still, at the end of my speech I tried to toast the bridesmaids, but even in that amazing kitchen, there was not a toaster big enough (I borrowed that joke from a wedding I attended sixteen years ago) so instead focused on the happy couple.

The evening was so relaxed – no alcohol, vegan vibes and just unforgettable moments of love, once again – that I wanted to savour every moment.

Reflecting:

We wish all the happy couples the very best for their lives together, and the theme of love carried on to the next morning, when we paid homage to the lovely Tracey Emin’s new neon at St. Pancras:

I really do.

The Future

The other – slightly less big – memorable moment of the past month was my getting an email off the club inviting me to attend one of the Dan Meis events. I actually missed my son’s first haircut for this, so was determined to extricate as much information as possible from it, hence the detail. I walked away with optimism and feeling free from the despondency which has filled my brain and heart for what feels like an eon and I’ll just recount what the aides memoirs seem to mean.

The architect wants the ground to “grow out of the dock” like – as I understood, a creature form the black lagoon but in a good way – and the initial images of inspiration were just perfect : the clock, the church we were in, all suggested he ‘gets it’. He mentioned brick and wood, the clear panels on the sides of the main stand and the GS and the need to use what seem like outdated materials in the new gaff. He discussed solar panels, the differences between North South and East West stadium orientations, and gave a great reference point of the Baltimore baseball stadium that mixes the old and new quite superbly.

I spoke to a friend at one of the weddings I referenced earlier, who writes for the Guardian Sport section in New York, about this and he was vociferous in his claim that said stadium is the inspiration for so many others across the States.

Meis then talked about how it wouldn’t be totally symmetrical, given the dimensions of the dock, and how a huge fan zone could be ‘the front door to the stadium’ with the iconic hydraulic tower being used as a pub or the team store, or choosing the option of incorporating a store inside the stadium like the unforgettable Barca store I’ve spent many a Euro in. This could also include a museum, he said, again referencing Camp Nou as a shining example of what could be achieved.

Overhead designs and pitch view restaurants brought things nearer to life, as did the reassurance that Meis has worked on Madison Square Garden and the Staples Center, both iconic venues, and he justified well the reasons for the capacity of both as the arguments for our own suggested maximum to be what it will be.

We even had workbooks to make notes in; I suggested a statue of the Holy Trinity and two weeks later, plans were announced. It’s nice to be excited for the future, albeit with an air or trepidation, and another recent visit to the Old Lady brought with it some lovely feelings and moments when we were treated like royalty. Meeting celebrities again… the story of my life.

Yes, at last I was able to attend a game and thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to savour being so close to the action, and my heroes. Really appreciating the kind gestures which accompanied it, we made the most of the chance and will aim to do it as much as possible before we move closer to the Mersey.

May offers some potential for pain, excitement and yet more changes. Whatever happens, we need to remember that we are us and not them and that the good will out when there comes soft rains. In the words of Jarvis Cocker:

“Brothers, sisters, can’t you see?
The future’s owned by you and me
There won’t be fighting in the street
They think they’ve got us beat, but revenge is going to be so sweet, oh-oh-oh”

If all else fails, I’ve got Marine (even though we lost the cup final 0-4) and anyway, I’ve started sponsoring a local under 17s team…