It’s defined as ‘the perception of apparently significant patterns or recognizable images, especially faces, in random or accidental arrangements of shapes and lines.’
The summer started on stage with drama performance which made us immensely proud, as well as a little visit to Prince Rupert’s tower in the sunshine. There followed a beautiful little film, Aftersun, with a subtle yet powerful performance by Paul Mescal as the dad of a fiercely independent daughter, played brilliantly by Frankie Corio, which really resonated, especially after a great Confirmation service by the Bishop of Liverpool, and also meant the Euros final mattered little.
Then came The Night Caller, with the brilliant Sean Pertwee who appeared in The 51st State with me nearly twenty five years ago. I remember clearly discussing the city with him at the wrap party in The Magnet, and the theme of taxi drivers returned the following week as my house keys mysteriously disappeared. I spent ages appealing to Merseyrail, Alpha Taxis, even our local (the brilliant CornerPost) to no avail – they must be out there somewhere – but again, it mattered not as we received the lovely surprise of B getting her school’s Citizenship award for Christian values.
To celebrate the end of term we watched the Dr Dolittle trilogy, and – as if by magic – I might as well have become a vet as, over the following weeks, our garden was frequented by a frog, a hedgehog in broad daylight, and divebombing gulls – a visit to the beautiful Walton Hall Park even saw us witnessing a dramatic duck rescue – and by the end of the holidays we were besotted with two guinea pigs, originally called Magneto and Wolverine but changed by deed poll to Moomin and Sniff. I actually hated the stories of Tobe Janssen as a child but fell in love with these two.
No summer holiday to speak of this year, but we did visit the ever charming Reading and a family funday at the brilliant Double Barrelled Brewery and quite enjoyed the rather bizarre Olympics Opening Ceremony and the sporting events which followed.
Much time was spent decorating. Painting, clearing, seeing Leighton Baines, reading about Bourdain and getting a real insight into his personality and ultimately his demise – rewatching the Rome episode of No Reservations really hurt – and getting the realisation he truly is one of my all time heroes. That particular episode features footage of an old Italian movie which nicely encapsulated my joy at getting some kits for E off the back of a lorry…
Talking of which – a grand day out meeting heroes before the pre season optimism hit a peak at Preston. We toured the city centre first then enjoyed the match immensely, seeing so many familiar faces from the past and singing new songs of love and hope. The love that lasts forever returned only a week later, as B experienced her first – last? – Goodison game against Roma, a team I’ve always had a soft spot for since the times of Totti and the new Giallorossi darling, Dybala.
Then came the eleventh birthday bonanza, bringing with it a sleepover, my favourite time of the year – Monday night TV quiz returns, inspiring an application to Pointless – and me crying at the end of the Barbie movie – before the season starting and normal service resuming with 3-0 defeats for all my teams on the same day and more disappointment to follow.
I cried again when one of my oldest friends told me he was getting married and we were invited to celebrate with the happy couple and my godson. The night before, I decided to write a little speech, inspired again by the poem ‘Valentine’ by Carol Anne Duffy (I first met him, and they also met, working in a kitchen) which I’d read when best man six years ago. Whilst not officially undertaking that role this time, it felt good orating on their official matrimony although I was still adjusting to life in reading glasses.
This blog started with me getting my eyes lasered as part of my MA research and I’d had an inkling for a while that my eyesight was going a bit, so the time had come to accept that midlife comes to us all.
Still, the last of the summer wine was ripe for drinking and we visited the excellent interactive exhibition by Roxy Topia and Paddy Gould at The Bluecoat, entitled Let Your Ideas Come Back As Children which is a perfect title and sums up my own credo wonderfully. Then came an idyllic trip home to see family and the rainy haven that is Morecambe seafront, then a lovely little moment came during our usual pre match routine before the Doncaster tie, when we were photographed on Goodison Road by a great Instagram account I followed.
Imagine our surprise when, after the match, I saw this image:
That’s us in the spotlight, using our religion for good, before a final foray onto the Gwladys Street, and it was brilliant to see ourselves documented by the brilliant @wanderingsofanevertonnerd which Id recommend you all follow for more beautiful photography of the people, parts and poignant memories of the final season of this big blue family home we share.
We met up at the following rollercoaster of a game, and he’s a great guy; turns out we have several mutual friends, and we’re looking at doing something creative in the future.
We got a great view of Goodison – and the shiny new beauty which will replace it – on a lovely sunny in New Brighton. Having been to Bramley Moore the week before, it was incredible to see the structure from the other side of the Mersey alongside the waterfront, as well as the ever impressive street art and murals that have really brightened up a town on its way back up.
A fitting end to the summer: seeing things in apparently random places, sunshine, change and optimism for the future as we negotiate high school and turning 45!