Author: bigdunc09

Last week, E and I went out on an adventure.

We set out early, replete with WSAG sun hat, for a couple of hours’ fishing, throwing stones in puddles and exploring the beaches five minutes away from where we live. We even saw Ancelotti’s house – and, I think, the great man himself, or a good lookalike, on a bike ride – and lots of businesses happily back trading, having re-opened to the relief of their owners and no doubt the government. Things felt good: soon, pubs will be open (I enjoyed my first pint the other day, probably too much… thanks, John!)

Also, shops are now re-opening and slowly other services return. People can even get their haircut. It would appear that things are going back to normal.

But it’s not normal, really, is it?

The masks on the faces we saw on buses and trains during that walk; the spaces between people on the pavements; the scared looks on people’s faces whenever there’s a cough.

Not to mention the horrendous few weeks we’ve had all around the world, involving continued injustices, statues getting pulled down or protected, violent clashes in every city it would seem, and frustrations really getting the better of people. A bit like 1968, then, but a less arty and cool version.

An R rated Black Mirror... Will it be this way forever?

The walk was a way of trying to do something positive with the little man, after a particularly difficult week of tantrums and toilet troubles, which after twelve weeks of lockdown weren’t just from him (joke) but parenting two little ones whilst trying to home school, keep working and remain positive despite myriad anxieties and missing people hasn’t always been easy… when possible, podcasts have again helped, particularly the Italia 90 reminiscences of Vincera which brought nice memories flooding back (more of which, later) and then Lockdown Parenting by Josh Widdecombe / Rob Beckett, featuring several special guests who just discuss what it’s been like with little ones this past three months.

At the end of each interview, with the likes of Jason Manford (whom my folks once met in Waitrose) Jon Richardson (who went to my school) and Chris Ramsay (no links other than Geordieness) they ask the guests to share their ‘Highs and lows’ and I’ll be honest, I’ve imagined being interviewed and would admit to having had loads of both. There was the uncomfortable moment when I got talking to the wife of a very famous local ex-footballer and now Sky TV pundit, because my little girl rode her bike quickly across his drive whilst said wife was guiding him out of the gates… all good stories to tell in the future.

Oh, and I locked us out of the house and had to hand over £120 to a locksmith to get back in.

Anyway, the highs. There have been many, and I know that makes me very lucky. Special moments with the family, discovering new skills, getting quality sleep in, lower workload (only just, mind!) perfecting ciabatta thanks to my new favourite chef, Barney Desmazery (also responsible for helping me through managing a week-long sourdough adventure) celebrating friends’ 40ths from afar and a film challenge on Facebook which got me thinking about the twenty or so most important films of my life so far.

I forgot a few, so by way of apology, these are they:

Other highlights included: White Lines; an amazing (and timely) evening of TV courtesy of the incredible James Baldwin documentary; a Trickett virtual tour of Naples courtesy of Now in Naples which has mad me start rewatching Gomorrah from the very beginning; Monaco on BBC2, bringing back lovely memories; the excellent and insightful Age of the Image with James Fox (it’s on iPlayer and features the wonderful work of Ron Mueck amongst other fascinating analyses) ; Lady Bird with the impeccable Siaorse Ronan; the discussion of Epicuras in one of the final (and best) episodes of The Trip; a Keith Haring documentary I’m currently watching on BBC2 and the ever lovely Reunited Apart series, the most recent of which was for a Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and was magical… and then a fantastic, personalised message for Lisa’s birthday from Richard Hawley:

I’ve achieved a lot… built two double wardrobes myself. Taught the kids to ride their bikes, Elijah to write his name. Made some chorizo for the first time. Forged friendships with new people in my life who’ve been very helpful, setting challenges and offering generously. Rekindled relationships with others from the past.

Stayed positive through troubled times.

The kids really helped.

And of course, enjoyed a fantastic Father’s Day when I got some amazing gifts and even managed to watch another instalment of the official film of Argentina ’78 whilst in the promised land of a bath… then came the derby, as a part of Project Restart. As disgraced rappers might sing, Return of the match.

On one hand it’s football in its purest form, players against each other without distractions… but on the other, completely artificial. The fake sounds and OTT commentary. The shirt symbols after myriad players – including one of our own, I hasten to add – had made a mockery of both initiatives during the peak… need I go on?

I digress. You see, there’s so much more to talk about. So much more to life.

An oxymoron of lockdown was my weekly quiz, bringing together via WhatsApp as it did a diverse range of men (and their families) who took it in turns to prepare and deliver a quiz at 4pm every Sunday. Technology only really got used correctly in the final week, meaning that every week we’d frantically upload videos of ourselves asking questions into the abyss and hoping people were out there watching. Mine were said to be too difficult, too cultured, but still it was a nice pick-me-up we all looked forward to and a chance to check in / have the drinks we would normally have been doing together at that time and learn something along the way.

I also celebrated absent friends’ fortieths and reminisced some of your and my halcyon days, Italia ’90. So many nice memories, both personally and collectively, some of which I collated for an article elsewhere. Here are but a select few:

The real highlight of lockdown, though? 25^th June… a big day in my life.

For fifteen weeks, due to their age and health issues, I’d not seen my folks and them not their grandchildren (and vice versa) so nothing… until the good weather brought with it the chance for a barbecue and their good fortune at being able to be tested negatively for Covid-19 the previous weekend finally changing my dad’s mind. It was weird, but wonderful, for the kids and for me but most of all for them. The memories of that reunification meeting will stay with me forever; of course, for those of a different persuasion, it was an important milestone date too.

The crowds – very wrongly – gathered, and they all shared photos of their nights partying, thinking the rules didn’t apply. Tribalism begins at home: we objected, we got called rude names, they did even worse the following night but still, I thought not just of my own family but those who have died in the past fifteen weeks, what would they be thinking when they saw the crowds gathering at Pier Head? Aiming fireworks at – and cheering when they hit – the city’s motif? A building I recall looking up at whilst driving to the hospital for my first born’s birth (and on the return journey) and then a night of violent celebrations completely ignoring the previous four months of sacrifice from normal people like us AND those we stood out to clap?

The stupidity of football (and a minority of its fans) came to the fore and, whilst I acknowledge the brilliance of the team that won the league, I laugh at the idiocy of those celebrating it in certain ways and just hope – pray – their behaviours don’t bring around a second spike.

I’ve been more vocal about these events elsewhere, and don’t want people to get the wrong idea. It’s easy to get sucked into the vortex of negativity, but also hard to ignore a city getting vilified by a notable few… especially when it’s not for the right reasons. The majority are sound, whilst the others deny, excuse, reject, then begrudgingly accept and thankfully quieten down.

Merseyside, Merseyside and all that.

Thankfully, the month ended with a lovely little surprise message from an old friend about a very important person retiring. Therefore, I’ll end on a positive, and wind the clock back twenty two years to my A Levels and someone who made a huge intervention in my life possibly when I needed it most.

That notebook of film reviews…
The red v neck sweaters…
That admiration for Greta Scaachi…
The promises of cheese and wine (on which he duly delivered, I’m happy to say as it’s too late to get him in any trouble…)
Those conundrum questions at the start of the lessons… one of which making me admit I’d choose sleeping with Elvis…
The comments on my artistic titles…
The encouraging me to sit with a younger student every week and suggesting a future career path…

For these reasons and more, I would always say that Mr Novell was the reason I became a teacher. You only have to look at my well-thumbed and incredibly well annotated copy of Great Expectations – and my recent badge for World Book Day – to see the impact his teaching had on my understanding and my career.

How lucky we were to have him behind the desk at the front.

I hope DJ enjoys his retirement and watches lots more films, reads anything he hasn’t already, listens to new music, drinks loads of wine and feels proud of the impact he had not just on my life but countless others over the years. It’s funny that his name fits a fellow English teacher so perfectly… spellings and stories, the stories of our lives.

These past few months have been a story and a half, let me tell you…

But then you already knew that.

Until next time.

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.“

Apologies for the delay. I must admit that lockdown, childcare and WFH meant that I have dramatically changed the way I have interacted with media: sharing more than usual, to keep others in touch; buying more newspapers at the weekend (and spreading them over the week, letting them last longer) avoiding social media and TV where possible and then changing my background listening habits: no more Talk S***e, more classical music via Scala Radio and loads of Radio 6.

It’s mad that, with two young ‘uns, this past couple of months I have actually felt like I’ve had less time than before, what with doing my own work, then teaching the kids KS2 and Early Years curricula, then doing the jobs around the house &  trying to keep in touch with far away family. Don’t get me wrong – we’ve been very lucky.

But I read about people being bored, struggling for motivation… back in March, the lockdown period apparently offered great opportunities for life changes: finally catching up on all those books gathering dust on the shelves and afternoons cosied up watching classic movies… but the reality was that I don’t think I’ve even scratched the surface.

However, whilst the workload hasn’t really changed that much, there’s been so much to celebrate given that mornings and evenings have been my own again, for the first time in a long time. Reconnecting with nature – birds singing in the skies, wild flowers growing in the pavement cracks, tadpoles and froglets in the park, insects buzzing around creating awe and wonder (I’ve been stung by a bee, we discovered an amazing paper wasp in the conservatory) and growing herbs, flowers, fruit and vegetables has been almost cathartic.

I even saved the life of a fledgling starling who had strayed from the family nest. It was hiding under a car, and as we passed by a neighbour acting strangely, she explained the situation and that a magpie was after said baby. I offered to help, got down on the ground and carefully reached for it but the first attempt was futile: it flapped its way out of my grasp, with its family squawking and shrieking away overhead. Thankfully, a second effort was more productive and I felt like Billy Casper whilst tentatively passing it over to the lady with the all important carrier to protect it. What was mad was that the very same day, our old mate Andre Gomes was himself rescuing birds and proudly showing off the fact:

What was not so mad, however, was that the very next evening, whilst in the front for our weekly applause for the wonderful NHS, B was very upset to discover a slightly younger – and decidedly dead – starling chick, dumped carelessly in one of our flower pots. We did the decent thing and offered it a nice burial in the back, but I was somewhat unsettled to see what must have been one of its parents the following morning desperately searching the vicinity for it, still with food in its mouth. It kept returning to the nest (in the eaves of the house opposite) in astonishment that its offspring had disappeared. Like I said, nature… awe-inspiring, but not necessarily beautiful.

Meanwhile, I’ve been baking loads and perfecting the art of the loaf; I even finally understood the difference between all the different types of flour not on the shelves; spent hours searching for the essentials like all the different types of flour, wipes, toilet rolls and everything else we all took for granted in the years BC; cooking more elaborately than ever; drinking gallons of homemade fruit juice and Earl Grey, even creating (and discovering) a love of Lego…. self-improvement.

It’s another of the myriad clichés of lockdown. The home made haircuts, the good intentions, the getting on better with your neighbours… running out of paint, having a new found admiration for those often overlooked… panic buying, the pub quiz, video chats… missing family like mad, wearing leisure wear out, avoiding the news… wondering if it’ll be this way forever.

The positives prevail, though. Some people have been incredibly kind and generous; we returned the favours in secret (in the caffe sospeso style, more of which later!). We’ve caught up on years of sleep. We have grown closer as a family unit. The kids are making huge strides in their learning, even learnt to ride bikes, skip, form letters, make play dough. Amazingly, I’ve sat down to paint and draw portraits for something every exciting that will be revealed soon enough… even life drawing along with the BBC programme.

And, as a couple, too, we’ve even had the time to sit down and do the quizzes, juggle the laptop to work as required and watch TV together most evenings (and not football, other than those excellent, nostalgic highlights packages at weekends which reminded me of a time when football was better… no, a time when football actually mattered) whilst at first, everyone raved over some American film website but I didn’t get a chance to watch anything on there before it was blocked.

However, I’ve really enjoyed the quality time without distraction going through the various streaming channels and the nearly full Sky planner. Anyone who, like me, was late to the party, we’re just finishing Ozark. Jason Bateman has been great ever since his reluctant father-to-be in Juno, and there’s the delectable Laura Linney, but the real star of the show was the quite brilliant Julia Garner. Bits of it were dark A F but a fascinating insight into the workings of drug cartels and middle America, nonetheless.

Meanwhile, with said children to entertain, I’ve spent a lot of time re-evaluating Disney films and series and would recommend hidden gems on there, such as ‘Adventures in Babysitting’, an under-rated Elisabeth Shue classic from my childhood about a nightmarish evening in charge of kids. I’ve also been re-watching, for comfort, La Haine, Anthony Bourdain’s travel series, Bizarre Foods America and V for real nostalgia.

Whilst painting various walls and ceilings, I listened to a plethora of podcasts too. Initially I was put off by the idea of Quickly Kevin, a 90s football show, but the more I’ve listened to it the better it’s got. It involves comedians – 90s football aficionados – interviewing figures including Pat Nevin, who has some fascinating stories to tell… there are also some incredible stories about the likes of Richard Keys and other seminal 90s football figures, and a series of film critiques in which they dissect football films such as When Saturday Comes and Hot Shot – which, having subsequently watched, is one of the worst films ever let alone football-themed films.

Another Podcast I have really enjoyed, which is admittedly a longer and very much more cerebral listen, is The Rewatchables in which film buffs discuss classic movies in real detail. My favourite, for pure nostalgia, was the one about The Karate Kid, although the best in terms of celebration was the one about Ferris Bueller’s Day Off as it forced me to re-evaluate it as potentially, one of the best movies ever made. Anyone into weird stuff might also like Frank Skinner’s poetry podcasts (especially the one on the beat poets, which made me finally pick up my copy of Kerouac’s On The Road years after picking it up in Blackpool Poundland) and Cillian Murphy’s weekly shows on R6 presenting some of his own eclectic music collection.

A final cultural gem has been some of the stuff Trickett have been offering. The editor of WSAG, fanzine I write for, got me into these guys and their quality of product, service and personalised communication is really top notch. Like me, they’re obsesses with Naples (dove il caffe e colto) and most recently I bought some incredible Passalacqua coffee from them for my morning espresso, and us all a Cornicella – a beautiful Neapolitan lucky charm, horn shaped and hand made in Naples – to ward off any evil spirits and bring us luck through these troubled times.

Trickett also do this amazing thing involving buying socks for homeless people, inspired by the Neapolitan tradition of ‘caffe sospeso’ (‘suspended’ or ‘pending’ coffee) which is basically a coffee paid for in advance, as an act of charity or good will. People who had themselves experienced good luck – perhaps as a result of a cornicello – would go and buy two to celebrate, but leave the second for someone less fortunate. Further research has led me to a fascinating movement spreading across the world, and documented in the Netflix documentary ‘Coffee For All’) and I think, links nicely to the great stories of humanity that have cut through the darkness of recent weeks.

Talk of Naples makes me pine for Italy (we should have been off to Palermo next week) and the natural next step, calcio. As for the return of football, life will eventually go on – although not for the forty thousand ish Britons (let that sink in for a minute, the capacity of the Old Lady) who will have succumbed to this terrible disease. Should the season be concluded, things won’t really change for me, apart from not being able to go the pub to watch any televised games, but it was only recently that I realised how much I will miss the match-going experience, even if I only go half a dozen times a season. God forbid how I’d be feeling if I still had my treasured season ticket… but it’s still only a game, of course, and life is more important.

It was only last weekend that its absence really got to me: an innocuous thread on Twitter by Andy Burnham, which led to me spending an hour in the kitchen whilst cooking tea listening to his Spotify ‘Everton 11’ and I was fine at first but when certain songs kicked in, I started to fill up and then had full on tears in my eyes (and it wasn’t just the onions) because I realised how much life overall has changed – football, politics, music – and how it might be this way for a long while yet.

Memories of yesteryear keep flooding back. A friend sent me some amazing photos for my uni days: I thought about how carefree we were. As Mel C sang with Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes around the same time: “It’s Just the beginning it’s not the end; things will never be the same again… “ They kind of had a point… but I’d like to think it can only be for the better.

Let’s, instead, end with two U2 songs: The End is the Beginning is the End / The Beginning is the End is the Beginning.

When last we met, things seemed quite positive: of course, I hinted at the possible spread of a contagion, but I was full of praise for shows and restaurants now closed indefinitely because – due to said illness – the world changed forever in a very short space of time.

I admit I’ve been very worried about people and things, but trying to stay as normal as possible whilst thinking a lot about a film by Lars Von Trier which I watched a few years ago: a surreal creation, entitled Melancholia, about the world ending and everyone preparing for it in different ways as the titular planet headed for earth, looming ever larger with nothing anyone could do about it.

The omnipresent news of Covid-19 spreading and subsequent measures being taken, evoked memories of that movie, and it very quickly felt like the end of the world as we knew it. Initially, I felt far from fine, but have grown to accentuate the positives in possibly the most negative era of our lifetimes, and so devote this month’s blog to the good things about the way we have been living a little differently: still working, but thinking more carefully about everything given the restrictions imposed.

Activities

The day before things changed dramatically was Mothering Sunday, and taking Boris’s advice, we went for an afternoon walk in the Springtime sun. I think we saw Don Carlo on his daily stroll around Blundellsands; just my luck that, on the first proper day of covering up, the need for social distancing left me wondering further whether it really was him because I didn’t shout over for a selfie so as to avoid unnecessary worry. This exercise became a welcome highpoint of days spent indoors (not exactly writing frightening verse) but teaching from – and at – home.

Shopping for essentials, too, became a surreal experience as I queued up outside businesses awaiting being invited inside, only to see sad, desolate shelves which had been ransacked by the more fortunate few. Still, home baking wins for many – and, as some of our favourite restaurants closed indefinitely, it was admirable to see so many try to keep calm and carry on with home delivery services – I’ve been making bread and more memorable meals than would normally be possible. 

Comfort food is what we need right now so it’s just and fitting that Jamie Oliver should be presenting his recipes daily, given that he has been involved in several other social projects linked to eating over the years. Many clamoured for the promotion of other chefs to this important role, without realising the privileged background and grammar school education one in particular had had. Anyway, I’ve made Jamie’s Veg Chilli  – which went down well – and we’re going to do the pizzas next. Even been cleaning up more, with the help of an amazing revelation: Pink Stuff, which works wonders when the shops had little else on offer.

(Wow, how this blog has changed from an introspective MA Fine Art project to recommending cleaning products, ten years down the line!)

Then, when time allows, DIY… with an impending Ikea delivery due next week, any spare time has been spent painting and tidying up the garden so easily neglected in the tumult of term time. It’s been quite calming to paint walls and ceilings whilst listening to myriad…

Podcasts

The best ones I’ve listened to recently were the Adi Dassler, Elvis and George Best episodes of Evil Genius, in which the panel discussed the good and bad sides of said icons; the always brilliant Two Shot Podcast which I have started to contribute to – the Karl Pilkington episode was particularly hilarious, especially when he discusses the seminal quiz show ‘Bullseye’. Go listen. Then, there’s the surreal Everything is Alive which is like nothing I’ve ever heard; however, it does evoke memories of past projects such as the one for which I won a prestigious Orange Futures award back in 2002.

Here I am, as I was back then:

It’s basically interviews with objects brought to life: for example, a married couple made up of a Sharpie pen and its lid, or a real highlight, the magic 8 ball who only answers questions with real 8 ball responses. Then, of course, there are those on football-when-there-is-no-football (Guardian football, Nessun Dorma and the excellent Kevin Quickly which covers 90s football, my era) bringing back nice memories, as did my choices this month of…

Music

Working from the comfort of home allowed morning listening of my back catalogue of CDs, many of which had been neglected for years. I’ve been particularly enjoying Gomez and Bill Ryder Jones, as well as new releases by Blossoms, Tame Impala and (of course) Morrissey.

The real discovery of self isolation, though, is a new love of classical music, especially Scala FM – the laid back birdsong and calming movies / musicals scores have been the perfect soundtrack to troubled times. It’s also a nice accompaniment to… 

Reading

Before things changed, I taught a class about Ray Bradbury, because his short story ‘There Will Come Soft Rains’ felt very relevant to current events. In it, a series of machines and objects continue to carry out their daily chores and routines in an imagined future – 2026 – without any of the humans they thought they were serving. I taught about the story not to scaremonger, just to show that a story doesn’t always need people in it, but it really got me thinking. As I said, health worries and money concerns are prevalent for all of us, meaning sleepless nights and anxieties. At home, the first time my little girl excitedly made contact with the friends she misses so much (the screams of glee are heard several times daily since) brought tears to my eyes: none of them fully understanding the enormity of this absence.

As an escape, I’ve tried to avoid the news where possible. I have instead read about Ancelotti’s leadership; updated my self on world events (especially Italy – the troubles in Palermo, where we should have been going next month for my belated birthday treat, and this incredible account of how life is on the mainland there) but also created a distraction for the whole family of a daily puzzles hour. This has often involved a quiz: so many have been shared by friends and families and that togetherness has made a real difference. And, thankfully, it stopped us from turning on the…

TV

Many things we have watched have actually helped: Joe Wicks and old Everton matches on YouTube; the dawn of Disney+ (although High School Musicals 1-3 can do one now) where The Mandalorian was excellent, Mickey Mouse memory-making, Honey I Shrunk The Kids reminding us of happier times; on Netflix, the brilliant Ozark (and weirdly watchable Tiger King) then on Catch Up: War of the Worlds (which made the city look amazing) and then Breeders, which is basically my life story, and The Trip to Greece: more of the same perfection.

Plus, there was time for a film one night: Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool, an emotive and beautiful tale… also, the Tyson Fury documentaries I caught up with. He may divide opinion (especially withhis own opinions) but I have a soft spot for him, having grown up in the same town where he now lives, and I really admired how he opened up about his own demons before trying to help others in a similar boat. One of the best sports stories of all, Rocky, seems to be being replayed out before our very eyes.

Also, despite not playing, Everton have also helped me maintain a decent level of mental health, thanks to…

Social Media

FaceTiming family members, even fleetingly, has become essential. House Party, despite concerns. Even TV programmes have used presenters’ homes and technology to keep calm and carry on. However, in a fortnight when I dread to think how many WhatsApp messages I’ve received from bored friends and colleagues (ranging from heartfelt enquiries and shopping recommendations, to inappropriate jokes about a serious subject and quizzes I wish I had the time to do) it was refreshing to actually see something good on social media and the Thursday evening Clap for Carers project we love taking part in to show our admiration and respect in a small but symbolic way.

In terms of football, lots of individuals have made a difference but as a Blue it was great to hear the positive impact the club and its employees have had on many vulnerable groups and individuals: teaching languages, sharing nutritional advice… Again, I filled up seeing the phone calls players and coaching staff were making (as well as Bill Kenwright) and, as if the surreality couldn’t bite any more, my own two were transfixed by Lucas Digne’s soothing bedtime story the club put out.

And Finally…

Eight years ago tonight, I was finalising my wedding speech. It was inspired and underpinned by the lyrics of a little known Courteeners song, ‘The Last of the Ladies’ and it had the refrain tattooed over my heart as a reminder of that important life event.

That I had the luck a few year later to – somewhat embarrassingly – proudly show the writer / singer of said song, said tattoo, was more than serendipitous given we were celebrating an anniversary that very day, but symbolises some of the magic moments we have spent every 5th April in memory of that day. 

I’m talking a carousel themed restaurant whilst enceinte in Nice; L’Enclume in the lakes; discussing music choices with Adam Reid at The French, Manchester; getting shown around the kitchens at Northcote; last year, Pep’s Catalan on King St with David Silva, that sort of thing… all of this brings us to this weekend and our ‘bronze’ wedding anniversary. The world is a different place to what it was on the seventh; even a few weeks back, when I excitedly booked Six by Nico by way of celebration and instead will now be celebrating indoors with a takeaway, if we are lucky.

Spending such a period of time with the family is a blessing, and I suppose links nicely back to the vows we took on that Thursday back in 2012 about sickness and health and all that… though I never expected anything like this to prove it.

Stay safe; look after each other.