Author: bigdunc09

Normally my favourite time of year, despite the constant travails and uncertainty, there has been much to celebrate recently: Spring has sprung, and out of darkness comes some light.

A metaphor for the difference a decade makes, perhaps?

War ravaging, barely affordable costs of living and constant doomscrolling meant we needed an escape: it would come, kind of, with the amazingly powerful ‘Naples 44’ (subtitled ‘An intelligence Officer in the Italian Labyrinth’) film (still available in iPlayer, I believe) and its emotive narration by Benedict Cumberbatch and haunting tales of what happened in the city during the war, what with cats disappearing and desperate women stood next to piles of tinned foods. Upsetting and beautiful in myriad ways, what stuck with me most were the end lines, as Norman Lewis announces ‘if I were to be reborn tomorrow I would choose to be Italian’.

Sharing this sentiment, I decorated my classroom entrance for World book day:

It was, of course, inspired by my love of all things Partenopeian. Dreams of sunnier climes transported us forward to 1960s Campania and the fantastic new series of My Brilliant Friend, courtesy of the beautiful words of Elena Ferrante (if that IS your real name) then took us to Malta for the intriguing ‘The Holiday’ before whisking us over to the cartels of South America via ‘Ozark’ series four (part one, with the remainder being released this weekend) before returning to a familiar setting and gripping ‘Our House’ which had clever twists and turns aplenty.

Talking of which: some amazing photos of us!

Great times were also had by all out of the living room: 50ths and 40ths with old friends, and an incredibly enjoyable trip to the West Midlands for a beautiful wedding with old school friends which took me back to 1995 for a day. My GCSE years were filled with Friday nights drinking and discovering music and film (often returning home to this question) with some great guys and it was so brilliant to catch up and reminisce.

How good it was to even have a dance in lovely surroundings… and with fantastic company!

The perfect way to start the celebrations for the tenth anniversary of our own special day, which I’d written about for the Empire State Building website and the folks there were so smitten with the narrative of our romance that they promised to send a little gift.

I kept it a surprise from WW, and it was a little bit like the shocking end of Seven (another nod to 1995, or was it the insomnia of Fight Club?) but even I was blown away by the thoughtfulness and generosity of the ESB when the FedEx parcel arrived… it all brought back such wonderful memories and really made us feel special.

Like ESB VIPs, in fact.

“You don’t work in the Empire State Building. You propose in the Empire State Building. You sneak a flask up there and raise a toast to the whole city of New York.” -Maureen Johnson

To resurrect other treasured, special moments we also returned to our favourite place: Britain’s Classic Seaside Resort. This time we encountered the Botanic Gardens for the first time, a lovely little place with its aviary and crazy golf course and beautifully colourful geranium beds. We also visited the newly renovated market, now a bar and food hall with a plethora of delectable delights we will definitely return to. That we only had a drink there this time was because we he had a prior booking to attend at The Vincent Hotel in Southport.

That’s where we celebrated our wedding breakfast and danced the night away in bespoke trainers, and, whilst we’ve been back myriad times since, we’d never gone for tea as a family of four. It was lovely surprising the kids with a trip to the beautifully renovated market (on the street where we bought the bridesmaid dress and tie material, and later the pram and car seat) before a fantastic meal with excellent service and a magical dessert (we opted for the limoncello, as enjoyed on the first night of our honeymoon!)

I’d emailed the hotel in secret, asking if we could view the function room if it was free, and thankfully it was being set up for a wedding the following day – lovely little kwinkydink – which meant we were able to show the kids the space where we cut the cake, have the speeches and performed our first dance. Five minutes of joy and reminiscence which was another perfect anniversary gift… This was such a lovely opportunity and we thank the staff there for the chance to share it with the weens.

The next morning it was up early for potentially the final school drop off for ages – mixed feelings, quite liked doing it but not sure I could do it every day, despite this one including seeing Allan leaving his own offspring at the school around the corner – and a trip to the intriguing CONSCIOUS show at the Bluecoat by Suki Chan, on the theme of dementia, which doesn’t sound very romantic but was certainly emotive and thought-provoking – before an eagerly anticipated lunch date and the more intimate celebration of our tin milestone.

We’d agonised over where to go, based on previous excursions, and couldn’t see past the perfection of our previous foray into town and the amazing Barnacle. You can read all about our first visit here…I even wore my wedding shirt for the first time in years – it was bespoke, based on Pep’s 2012 style, and not my 2022 Dad Bod – and actually a payment for a blog I’d written for a now-defunct bridegroom website and now only just fits!

There’s more detail to come, but a 12.30 lunch so we could get back to pick up the kids meant that, whilst I wasn’t drunk at all, made some quick notes on the train home and typed out the following:

Emotions of the absence

Amazing camaraderie with Ben and Jack

Choice of wine to go with the pork

Passion for the local produce and the honest comments about desserts

Easter eggs next year?

Best serving double act since Fred and Merlin

This all made sense the next day, thankfully!

We were genuinely upset that we couldn’t go back the next week, and the week after, given how wonderful a a welcome we received (and a farewell, hugs and wedding invites included!) but we’ll be returning in the summer. Honestly, the staff there are simply incredibly good at their job and know the food and wine inside out but also feel like your mates instantly.

The food: incredibly sumptuous oysters, designed to be chewed; the lambs tongue, with raspberries for a new combination; the chowder, even better than last time; the perfectly cooked pork, with the jus that begged to be supped from the jug; the succulent chicken, with the delightful hen of the woods mushroom; the panna cotta with bay, thyme & honey… the cocktails (my maritime martini was incredible…) and the after eight inspired gin drink with a shard that WW devoured and should be an easter egg… There were just so many stand out dishes and drinks that I’ll just share the pictures and leave it there.

Paul Askew, thanks for all you do for the city and the region! Ben and Jack, thanks for the impeccable service,

The food itself is just perfection and we couldn’t have wished to have made a better decision for both legs of our culinary celebrations.

Back home then, for the remainder of the holidays and streaming selections brought more success. In no particular order: Moon Knight and the returning notion of having an alter ego. My childhood hero, Pat Nevin, on Celebrity Mastermind and losing to one of the reviewers on Gogglebox (despite his autobiography making him sound like the most knowledgable and articulate footballer that ever lived – an outstanding read!)

Now, for a brief interlude and honorable mentions to other highlights of the last couple of months:

A fantastic breakfast at our new local, with the coolest branding around, The Oxford, whom we wish well and urge all to attend.

Then there’s the visits to farms, Acorn Farm and St Michael’s, which again were a lovely reminder of Spring and nature on our doorstep, and exactly why Easter really is the best time of year.

There also came Turning Red – great music, beautiful design, clever and very close to home – and finally getting what everyone was saying about Killing Eve, what with its graphic violence and stirring romantic undertones yet the plot promoting even more longing to travel when you saw those exotic locations.

And, Tyson Fury – great fight and got me thinking of not just meeting him last summer but the journey he has been on; I sat re-watching the highlights with the littlest one the following day and he’s starting to show an interest in pugilism that then brought back older memories of this magical movie moment from Bugsy Malone:

And then, the football and three Marine FC games as their run towards play off success progressed – E really is developing a keen interest in the game, getting to know players and club colours and practising out in the garden all the time. Also, he;s always asking questions such as ‘who is this playing?’ ‘Is Neil Kengne better than Leo Messi?’ and deciding which kit to get for next season… I’ve never pushed it with him, but now it’s glorious to see things taking their hold and he’s really caught the bug (next to The Bug, for those who know)

Taking the family to the last game of the season was just brilliant and, even though they lost it, they won the ones that mattered. I listened to the play off final via YouTube and marvelled at the scenes when the squad returned to the stadium in celebration, feeling a sense of pride and excitement for once, and so we might even get a season ticket for next season!

Evertonian turned Sky pundit and impartial commentator JC was even at the last game, stood near us and clearly intimidated more than I’d seen him since facing up to Duncan or even our encounter in town one night at Easter 2001.

As always, bigger issues and events await ominously… but they can wait, for now.

Happy new year! Yes it’s March, I know… yes, it’s been a while – what seems like a lifetime – filled with clear Covid concerns plus world war worries alongside very real relegation fears and genuine grievances… but it all started quite pleasantly, at the World Museum with their new addition, the beautiful Polpo, pretty much my favourite animal… and then a trip to show the kids my own oeuvre in the recently reopened ‘Wondrous Place’ and then a similarly enjoyable trip back in time at the Atkinson in Southport and their ‘Grew up 80s’ exhibition which brought back so many wonderful memories of yesteryear.

Meanwhile, the new year was spent watching A LOT of TV: very enjoyable, comforting and familiar fayre, such as Stay Close, Cobra Kai, and the Book of Boba Fett (both childhood heroes) the latter with its amazing CGI. Then there came the death of Sidney Poitier – To Sir With Love, indeed- featuring ‘the teacher who gets through to the kids by challenging them to be adults’ And arguably one of the most wonderful musical endings of any film – and the more grown up content of The Lost Daughter (more brilliance from Elena Ferrante) and the similarly Oscar nominated and quite incredible ‘Hand of God’, a semi-autobiographical tale by Paolo Sorrentino all about Maradona’s arrival in Naples, which has some incredible moments. Talking of which, I also marvelled at the Pavarotti documentary by Ron Howard and the linked concert from Hyde Park which I vaguely remember taking place but was only ten at the time.

Oh, and the bizarre Herbert Clunkerdunk which evoked memories of Flight of the Conchords, then the beautiful-in-every-scene most Wes-Andersonesque Wes Anderson film ever, The French Dispatch, the return of Ozark, The Holiday and of course loads of Encanto... then, away from the small screen, playing footy for first time in years, and the arrival of Frank Lampard who once scowled at me in Selfridges then broke my heart at Wembley 2009 which still feels like a bit of a watershed moment, thirteen years later. Talking of romance, Valentine’s brought with it an actual date night (watching Date Night) and a new object of my affection:

And, more hearts:

The rest of the months passed with sleepless nights, sad passings and separation anxiety, with separate half terms meaning a weekend away in Chester and a perfect pizza at Stile Napoletana there, plus muddy frolics at the Crocky Trail, both of which I heartily recommend. Days off were spent doing DIY, watching Countdown, and somewhere along the way learning the two beautiful words that make up this post’s title, which essentially means ’self evident feeling of being out of place’ (Taken from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows (John Koenig), monachopsis is. The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach…. unable to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you’d be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home) before enjoying the bizarre humdrum of the school run for a few days, and then a last hurrah.

I’ve been lucky enough to experience the culinary genius of Paul Askew, and the excellent service of the staff at The Art School in Liverpool, twice and when I saw he was to be involved in Barnacle (replacing the equally excellent Pilgrim, upstairs at the Duke Street Market) I was very excited to visit.

A little lunch last week was more than worth the wait.

A real highlight this time was the relaxed, informal service which accompanied the impeccable food, all of which was sourced locally. I started (naturally) with an Everton gin, whilst WW opted for an English fizz; incredible amuses bouches arrived of raw milk butter with stout soda bread and a powerful artichoke broth, then the main events.

The seafood chowder was a taste of the sea to behold, and the chicken terrine packed a real punch of lovage. The mains, though, were even better: ox cheek with the greatest mash ever made, and the sumptuous duck breast was more like chicken liver, with an incredible jus which included ‘taste of the orient’ tea.

At this point, we got talking in depth to the brilliant Jack @mellor282 who, after outlining his Blackpudlian roots, explained the background to the tea and promptly provided an incredible new cocktail he’d created using similar ingredients. After a couple of tastes of Toxteth limoncello (the blood orange was interesting) I opted for the cheeseboard which was amazing; servers Ben and Jack both shared their favourites and then we couldn’t decide on our own.

All in all, a beautiful couple of hours amidst similar decor and we will definitely be back!

Normally, I try to end in a positive but whilst completing this post on World Book Day the news filtered through about Shirley Hughes. Obviously, what’s going on in Ukraine has much more importance on a global scale but the sad news about Shirley had personal resonance because she was present at my postgrad graduation back in 2004, signing my programme and admiring my pencil tie, and whilst I knew her work from childhood it’s only since becoming a parent that her Alfie series of books fully resonated.

Big boy Ian Barger, and the Christmas book when Alfie helps buy his mum some earrings, are staple favourites in our house all year round and I was saddened when Frank Cottrell Boyce tweeted the news of Shirley’s death (especially as he himself had done a reading at the equally sad event I referenced earlier) but I can’t end this there so will just say we’ll read her books more than ever before from now on and finish with showing how we celebrated World Book Day:

Its exactly ten years this weekend since the ‘burial of my life as a boy’ meaning that my next offering will be a reflection on a decade of domestic bliss as we celebrate in fine style with family members and old friends alike, hopefully feeling at home and luckier than ever.

Happy new year to you all.

Much has happened since last we blogged, so this post is a quick recap of the end of the year, the year itself, and then a look forward… all very Samantha Janus.

The month of November started with an emotional but enjoyable trip to town and an epic steak at the Duke St Food Market. The long awaited couches finally arrived (tip: don’t use Sofology) and I was able to sit comfortably at last and watch three excellent Italian football themed productions: the Maradona docudrama (very true to what I imagine his life to have been like) on Amazon Prime; Paolo Sorrentino’s incredibly beautiful Hand of God (in which one character has to make a very difficult decision) and Road to Wembley, the fantastic Italy documentary which told the story of their Euros win last year. Oh, the last two are on Netflix.

Meanwhile, the Peninsularly theme continued with Gino’s family adventures across the country I love and miss dearly. The sunshine and beauty there contrasted with the drab weather and mood here, what with Omicron and masks returning in a whirlwind of fear. As for wind, one lowlight of Autumn involved that old cliche of waking up to find the trampoline had blown over the fence to next door’s garden, standing proud as if having achieved a full flip of its own.

What larks we had, getting it back over to its rightful home!

The less said for the football at the end of the year the better, too, and the smug arrogance was tolerated with ever growing concern that bigger worries were around the corner. Talking of corners, I spent what felt like a lifetime creating a skirting board for the porch… the angles weren’t perfect and I went through a lot of filler but I was still proud of my work. Anyway, onto the more positive productions, and the fantastic feeling of being able to attend the Wondrous Place opening with friends I’d not seen for ages and the pride of our creation being back on show.

I’m sure I will have written about this before but there’s nothing quite like seeing your work on display, especially in surroundings like this, and the free bar and interesting fellow attendees made it a real night to remember.
Taking the kids and L to see it last weekend was already one of the highlights of this, or any, year… but more of that later.

Which brings me to other viewing and, despite pre-Christmas workload ensuring late night viewing or stolen half hours in the iPad, I really loved Hawkeye (New York at Yuletide? What’s not to?) Joker, Stay Close and the much anticipated Book of Boba Fett.

There were so many other little nuggets over the festive period, including some we watched as a family such as the first theatrical performance by Belle in A Christmas Carol; Disney’s lovely Encanto (but we don’t talk about Bruno) the kids’ nativities of course, and we finally got to a cinema to see a grown-up film together as a couple for the first time in years and were blown away by the beautiful, breathtaking West Side Story remake. It’s always been L’s favourite – and it evoked memories of sitting under Natalie Wood’s dress at Planet Hollywood in Times Square on the same date, many years before – and this version was arguably better.

Then, back to real life and reality, there were the real life observations, especially the street lights switch-on which incorporated a street party and chance to get to know neighbours for the first time in eight years.

It made our home feel even more special in time for the festive season.

However, the most flourescent gem I witnessed over the last couple of months was the final series of Gomorrah which I managed to fit into ten days’ viewing, either after wonderful wife went to bed or I sat next to silently on the iPad with pods in, devouring every word even though I had no idea what it meant, and the double crossing causing confusion but overall embellishing, in my opinion, the best tv series ever: over my lifetime I would have once given that accolade to Rentaghost, Jossy’s Giants, Our Friends in The North, This Life, The League of Gentlemen, Flight of the Conchords, Teachers, Boardwalk Empire… but now, this Christmas, a new title took their crowns.

I sat watching the final episode of serie 5 on said sofa with a Negroni in my hand and tears running down my cheeks, heartbroken at what happened and upon realising that this was the end of a journey I had shared with Ciro and Genny since my first newborn was just a few months old, eight years (well, a lifetime) ago.

I’ve devoured the accompanying music, too, introducing me as it has to the delights of Mokadelic, Franco Ricciardi (whose song in the last episode really made me think of a modern version of Pavarotti’s Caruso) and random Italian rap; the myriad characters (‘O Munaciello and Pure’n’Simple were particular favourites), but also the culture, fashion, architecture, lifestyles, dialect, history, pathos… but now, it was ending. 

As was the year: a funny old year, 2021, featuring many hours’ (and pounds’) worth of house changes; ups and mainly downs in football, but including a fantastic Euros, deepening my love of all things Azzurri; some sadness, which I needn’t go into now; memorably meeting Tyson Fury, and other unforgettable meals and special moments; spending loads on Trickett (no amount can ever be too much!) and a fantastic family holiday in Wales.

But most of all, it was all about spending more time than ever with these three (a picture taken on our first proper opportunity to do a walk to school together on a rare day off)

I started the year promising I’d theme it around Neil Sedaka’s Calendar Girl… I simply have to end it that way, too.

(November) I’ll give thanks that you belong to me

(December) You’re the presents ‘neath my Christmas tree.

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt… but fingers crossed the next one is better!

Again, happy new year to you all: I wish you hope…

Nuje vulimme ‘na speranza; Hope is all we need to live a better tomorrow.