Author: bigdunc09

A decade ago, I was celebrating having got engaged in NYC and looking forward to a first new year being betrothed. So much has happened since then: marriage, kids, buying a house… greyer hair, yes; more content? certainly, though in many respects I’m still exactly the same person I was at thirty. 

Romantic; creative; trying the change the world (to little avail) and hopelessly trying to keep up with culture when there are more pressing priorities to attend to. 

Even writing a blog – in its infancy back in 2010 – is a challenge of epic proportions which takes a couple of months to complete, what with kids and marking and sleep to compete with the creativity. This means that, whilst the World is very different and technology more advanced now, I take some comfort in the fact that I’m still doing the same thing that I was ten years previous. It just takes me longer.

So, as I start a fifth new decade, some things change, but the majority stand still, and I’m still trying to stay down with the kids and keep up to date with what’s current in terms of literature and TV but with the added competition of children plus the benefits of box sets and streaming services, which means that whilst I had to wait a week to watch the next episodes of LOST on channel 4 all those years ago, now  I was able to The End of The F****ng World within a week (once the kids had gone to bed) and throughly loved its weirdness and beauty all at once.

However, it felt like the end of the f*****ng world when Andres Gomes broke his ankle and I saw it live, after he had had such an impact on our year. Betsy made him a get well card and was made up to see herself with him in a music video but it was a horrible experience I’d not really experienced before and don’t really want to again.

Still, we accentuated the positives and enjoyed celebrations at Fazenda / the lovely El Gato Negro (replete with Boys from the Blackstuff mosaic) and the impressive Light Night displays across the city, plus more reasons to be cheerful at the amazing Educate Awards ceremony at the cathedral. Even a Sky TV advert reduced this forty something to tears.

Talking of which, so did Howard’s Way, a wonderful little film I’d heard lots about and really loved reminiscing as a result of. In these dark times, it’s a great thing to remember special people and moments and also what’s important, which is why I was engrossing myself in a Nativity whilst others obsessed about irrelevant issues that one day will mean nothing (and I’ll be doing the same at a pantomime later this week…)

Still, I’d be lying if it didn’t bring a tear to my eye again meeting a childhood hero (Pat Nevin) at his own derby and chatting about my first game (in December 1990, thirty years previous) before immersing myself in the managerial debut of my teenage idol (Duncan Ferguson) who was the focus of my GCSE artwork and even found his way into my best man’s wedding speech, such was his impact on my life so far – and many others – celebrating an impassioned performance.

Perhaps his successor will have a similar influence (just instead on my fifth decade?) 

The day Ancelotti was announced (so perfectly, by the way) was seminal in that I’d never dreamed we’d have someone of his calibre in the dugout at GP. Similarly, I’d never dreamed of the previous night’s opportunity to see a ninth Star Wars film with an amazing Godson and his dad, a friend of now twenty years, and the revelations that came within it. The third trilogy ended satisfactorily, thankfully.

That followed a wonderful trip to the Enchanted Forest to see Father Christmas, and on this special anniversary again it all felt just too good to be true, as did the fantastic few days that followed: family time and celebration with some much needed relaxation mixed in to good effect. 

A great celebration, some good quality family time, a wonderful wedding, over indulging in food and drink… the past decade, encapsulated in the microcosm of Christmas week.

The 2010s were very good to me, but also very demanding and tiring at times. I’m hoping the 20s will be more calming and peaceful, for us all.

X.

I write in agony. 

Hallowe’en was spent in the dental hospital, the evening in severe numbness then pain following a double coronectomy, whilst the rest of the world trick or treated.

I’ve been through a few medical procedures in the past few years (some you know about, others you don’t) and I have to say this was the most daunting and most uncomfortable. Still, the recovery time at least allowed the chance for some rest – even offering me some quiet time to watch a film and, obviously (given the date) I opted for The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock, which I’d not seen for years and left me reflecting for hours afterwards on what it was all about. 

Theories abound that it suggests the fear is eternal, never ending…

I disagree, and hope that in time, things should heal; pain, subside. Funny that it should be only five days, and then again exactly five weeks, since much happier times.

Turning forty had haunted me for months.

Years.

Ever since those fortune tellers – the stimuli for starting this blog, a decade ago now – suggested that it would be an important milestone, I was nervous about exactly why; everything else they intimated in that clever way of theirs had come true, so what would happen as I went over the hill?

As it happened, the usual stuff of life muddled things a little but overall, I needn’t have worried. At times it may have felt a little like The Upside Down, but my birthday weekend went by in a haze of happiness and exciting times ahead (including a lifelong ambition of visiting Sicily) and I was more than content to spend quality time with the family, Domino’s and Stranger Things then a classy performance by Man City which didn’t disappoint too much, given the gulf in class between our blues and theirs. It was a joy to be there (and in the programme!) and I certainly didn’t let it spoil the weekend – only saddos let their lives be dictated by the achievements or failures of those with whom they have absolutely nothing in common (it’s ok, the ‘real ones’ won’t be reading this) and instead celebrated in style with one of the nicest pizzas I’ve had for years at a new, authentic place just opened in Waterloo: Il Capitano’s.

The following week, more quality food at a much anticipated gathering of friends old and new (I’d even created a Whatsapp group to organise it) and was made up that colleagues and Uni mates could come together for an afternoon of great beers at the new Albert’s before an epic meal at Pilgrim restaurant, upstairs in the newish Duke St Food Market.

Just thinking about it now, not having eaten solids for forty eight hours and pining for anything tasty, brings tears to my hours but in a good way because I had such a great afternoon and array of wonderfully tasting dishes, inspired by various pilgrimages around the world and successful enough to first win Million Pound Menu, then, in the week before we visited, a richly deserved Bib Gourmand, that it will love long in the memory, even when I can actually eat something other than soup and Complan again!

That we snuck into the baby shower of an apparent Love Island contestant afterward, is irrelevant: what is more important is the generosity people showed me, including strangers on the other side of the country whose kindness will never be forgotten:

More class came the following midweek, with a trip to see the wonderfully haunting, dulcet tones of Richard Hawley. It felt alien to be cavorting on a school night, and en eye opener into the lives of others when routines are normally so regimented. Even if we had to leave early, it was brilliant, made all the more so because I got talking to another very talented musician who I really respect and admire and it was great to meet another of my heroes.

Bill Ryder Jones has had a colourful career and even if he wasn’t a good Evertonian, it would have been an honour to chat with him. Despite being castigated for kissing his hand, the classic tunes he was involved in and then the beautiful melodies he has produced since, make him a modern master in whose presence it felt great to be.

That night aside, entertainment felt a distance away: work commitments and other priorities made it difficult to find time to devote sufficient time and attention to the plethora of interesting looking things on TV. Still, a few documentaries, including the brilliant one on what Gary Usher has done with Pinion; ‘The Boys’ alternate superhero series; ‘Temple’ continues its brilliance… plus some classics such as ‘The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner’ and long time favourite, ‘A Taste of Honey’ plus of course the fantastic trailer for ‘Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker’ to which I’m already counting down the days.

Talking of the cinema, I treated B to a trip to the Plaza for the new version of The Addams Family and we both really loved it. Some of the knowing references to classic films of yesteryear, for example the frogs scene in E. T., and more recent examples such as ‘IT’ (which I also watched, and quite enjoyed, recently too) might have gone over many of the audience’s head – then there’s the impressive cast of voices, including one particularly apt guest appearance, and all in all put us in a great Hallowe’eny mood just as much as the dressing up as a zombie cheerleader for a birthday party, or our visit to the pumpkin picking farm which we thoroughly enjoyed… despite what was actually going to take place on the day itself.

I also loved most of Yesterday – one uncredited bit in particular, but I won’t spoil the surprise – although it left us with more questions than answers and felt like an Ed Sheeran infomercial at times… even started the somewhat heavy going Blade Runner 2019 on the exact date that the original was set (from my sick bed) and even found myself engrossed in the rugby World Cup for several Saturdays, even if the matches did evoke tearful afternoons on the memorial playing fields getting shouted at for not tackling enough amidst the freezing sludge of an abatoir’s off-shoot when I really wanted to be jinking down the wing with a round ball like my hero at the time, Pat Nevin. 

Max Rushden summed it up nicely with this:https://www.theguardian.com/sport/blog/2019/oct/24/rugby-world-cup-england-new-zealand-max-rushden

and I was disappointed England didn’t win the final, as I watched with the oblivious boy, but sincerely hope it brought the bully boys (and teachers, one of whom isn’t with us any more) the heartbreak and suffering they gleefully put me through.

Still, let’s keep it light and accentuate the positives: the real highlight of recent times was a trip down the M62 for one of my main birthday gifts, a trip to what Giles Coren described as ‘the best restaurant in the urban north west’ and, after an evening spent at Manchester Hawksmoor, I would concur… https://thehawksmoor.com/locations/manchester/

I’d heard so much good stuff about the place that I made it clear that it would be my destination of choice for a romantic meal and I was elated to see that WW had booked us in for a Sunday evening, exactly one month after the main event.

it went better than I could have imagined, from the pre meal relaxation watching the birds go by (and said childhood hero on Pointless – with someone I met at Heathrow a few years back – wearing the exact shirt I’d brought to wear that evening) before the opener cocktails in the moody restaurant bar (even the stairs down to the toilets celebrated my life so far) to the entertaining neighbouring tables: the Shameless extras, with her in the knee highs with two handbags; him, the fringe and the Balenciagas paying cash from his shoulder bag… then the other side, the older couple who reminded us of a Gogglebox family who walked out when told there were no more roasts.

The food? Others will tell it better but I’ll try to put in to words the glory of what I’d already ordered in my head a month previous, when I sneaked a look at the menu online. I don’t regret it and I wasn’t disappointed.

Three oysters each – the Vietnamese were an absolute joy – before an epic 900g Prime Rib which I’d never tried before, but had seen loads of signs for in Las Vegas and I now understand why!

The bone marrow gravy and beef dripping fries, plus the Caesar salad, accompanied it perfectly and I won’t share how much it cost – you can guess and tweet me your estimates – but, for anyone who thinks that it’s too much to spend on a meal… it probably wasn’t enough. The service too was impeccable, and they even acknowledged the moment with a nice touch which made it all the more special for me.

Following an interesting nightcap amongst the Cottonopolis glitterati in the Ivy, and luxury surroundings next to the Irwell in the shadows of the old Granada Studios (which conjured up so many memories of growing up) and the next day shopping and spotting the inflatable monsters who had infiltrated the city’s landmarks, it was all just further proof – if it were needed – that being forty is actually pretty great, despite whatever else might be going on…

Time, clearly, is the only saviour.

AKA: ‘End. Begin. All the Same’ which was also the title of the first episode of the new Dark Crystal series (more of which later)

The second half of the summer, as always, flew by. A welcome trip to see family; catching up on those books I was still reading; a wet but memorable sojourn to Peppa Pig world… these were the things as we entered the latter part of the holidays.

It’s always nice to go to Reading, a town with an amazing history, and it inspired me to read some Oscar Wilde after his trials there.

Back home, I spent a day in town at the summer shows of the Bluecoat – interesting as always and cleverly arranged – and the outgoing film inspired show at the Walker, which included the excellent paintings by Mario Rossi, before yet another appointment about my Teeth which I had hoped would herald some extraction but didn’t and therefore led to yet more pain and disappointment.

After all this, Betsy turned six.

Someone once said to me that it just gets better and better… and I would have to agree. At various times this summer, with significant events just around the corner, I reflected on where exactly things are and how those six years have changed me, shaped me… made me. I’m so incredibly proud of her, but thought I should maybe rein in my showing the world so much after a conversation I heard on the radio. Around the same time, someone also shared a post about idiots who share photos of their tea and I really started to consider exactly how I’m using my time online, plus what could change in the near future.

Whilst in those pensive moments, we went to Blackpool and specifically the Sea Life Centre which was fantastic although, for someone who has recently been obsessing over octopi, a little disappointing that there were none there (their one was instead at the Manchester version we had been to the year previous) but the theme of seeing Nature at its source continued after Brockholes, a lovely little nature reserve which we romanced in the rain, and then the south lakes wildlife park with myriad meerkats and other creatures.

I also fell back in love with cricket this summer, and specifically the Ashes series, the highlight of which I watched at the New Brighton Cricket Club much more educated people than I and it made me think a lot about redemption and resilience. Similarly, a trip to Southport brought back great memories and made many more as my son passed on his passion for model trains and meant that I now happily forego any cultural opportunities to instead, concentrate on YouTube clips of toy trains running endlessly around the track which are actually quite soothing and not at all emblematic of any mid life crisis I may be currently enveloped in… I digress.

Cooking continued – just maybe not so many photos thereof – because I need an escape plus I love the catharsis it offers (especially when you’re teaching someone else) and as a reward, we had a lovely trip to a luxurious cinema. I looked on enviously as friends there were off to see the new Tarantino, whilst we awaited the UglyDolls film but I was pleasantly surprised with the movie and even more so with the comfort of the electric recliners, the unlimited soft drinks, the decadence of this wet Wednesday morning and wondering why we’d not been before? Anyone else who hasn’t, get on the Odeon Luxe soon!

Back at home we indulged in some quality viewing before the opportunity would be lost. The Dark Crystal back story started really well (even B loved it) then the even darker ‘Temple’ which we are loving. Honourable mentions to A Ghost Story, described as ‘the most existential movie ever made’ which you’ll be thinking about for weeks after watching, and I concur.

As a last hurrah, we decided to book in one last blowout at our favourite neighbourhood bistro – and not just because our names are on the wall, after helping to fund the Kickstarter project – Pinion in Prescot. 

I’ve written about it before, and there’s a documentary just been on Channel 4 which will explain it all better than I, but let’s just say it’s a wonderful little place where only wonderful stuff happens and I’ve got so much admiration for the staff and especially the guy who started it all, Gary Usher.

Before the meal, we drank with gusto in the cool Lord Strange and the Balearic-buzzy Urbano Chiringuito, whose owners I really admire for what they have achieved in a short space of time. We were transported back to our pre-wedding, and then mini-moon, trips to Madrid and Barcelona respectively, due to the beverages on offer, but the highlight was undoubtedly the Hacienda Gin I’d read about. 

It didn’t disappoint.

Then, over the road for the meal and a brilliant evening getting served exquisite food in lovely, relaxed surroundings and yet more pride in something we had invested in. Part of the problem with following bars and restaurants on Instagram etc is that you’re always aware of the specials and the menus so, if the truth were told, I already knew what I wanted on arrival. Thankfully, WW chose equally well and we could share dishes meaning double the enjoyment. 

Memories of school were then made in Manchester, meeting an old school friend I’d not seen for twenty years, then in Morecambe with a flat mate from uni with whom I’d not conversed for about fifteen. Both were happy moments amidst the sadness of losing a brilliant and brave lady who’d been on the earth for ninety nine years and nine months, who always had a smile and a song for everyone… but that’s all I want to say about that. 

Thankfully, we had the distraction of EJ turning three – he’s really growing up fast, and slowly settling in nursery despite the morning – tears – and my own upcoming milestone birthday.

Turning forty is something I’ve been nervous about for ten years (ever since one of the fortune tellers in Blackpool made a big deal of the event) and I suppose in my own way I have made my name in the time since, but I can’t help feeling there is something else over the hill.

I actually can’t believe I am the age I now am, and whilst it really is just another birthday, it really does feel like the end of not just a chapter but a whole book, with another new one ready to take its place in my hands.

End. Begin. The same?