The Artist – Jonathan Greenbank

We start, and end, with football.

Another Euros approaching, and the end of the season being nigh, football has understandably been high on the list of priorities in my mind this past few months, not least because Betsy has had a few games for the school team. They’re doing well, winning a few, and she’s trying her best (but is not the next Alex Greenwood, who actually attended the same primary school) and even turned her hand to netball in a couple of games recently, preparing for high school which we intrepidly await.

There was also the additional problem of yet another Everton points deduction, but there’s more on that later…

TV proved a nice distraction in the meantime. The very good Too Good to be True and the ever excellent Great British Menu, plus the sad news about Dave Myers, announced as it was the day after an excellent Liverpool based episode which I implore everyone to watch on iPlayer.

The best thing I’ve watched recently – which is also available on the BBC platform – was How to with John Wilson – like nothing else on TV – first episode about finding public bathrooms in NYC. Like a blend of Wes Anderson & Spike Jonze meets Found magazine (to which I was once a regular contributor) meets Louis Theroux… small details, like hand signals noticed among native New Yorkers on a daily basis akin to those used by baseball players. The Mets fan, with his glass collection and his recollections of his first game, took me back to NYC and the memorabilia I bought here (wish we could have gone to a game but it was close season) then forward to my own collections and son and our excitement as the new stadium comes ever more real, as does relegation and what would come with that.

And the hoover convention in episode 4 has to be seen to be believed… the ending is particularly poignant.

Other good things we’ve watched in the past few weeks? Passengers: Stranger Things meets Twin Peaks meets Happy Valley meets myriad other Netflix series with dismembered animals and odd teenage characters. I really liked it. As I did Red Eye, not quite real time but largely set on a flight to China (and it put me off flying for a while) then of course the return of Masterchef.

The kids had artworks in church as part of their Easter Art exhibition – a lovely lead in to the upcoming holiday. We went to see the new Ghostbusters, Frozen Empire, which I really loved as it evoked the original more than any of the other reimaginings. Technology has obviously made a film like this all the more possible and realistic, but it struck a chord with us having visited several of the locations featured heavily in it, such as the Hook & Ladder fire station and the lions outside the Public Library – who comes ‘alive’ in the film quite magnificently.

More ‘wow factor’ was to come later that week, as we were lucky enough to attend the Etihad Stadium for the Man City v Aston Villa game.

Little E has adopted City as his second team and obviously he’s thankfully oblivious to the suggestions of oil empire corruption which besmirch, for many, their greatness. What’s undeniable is that they put on a good show, both before the game what with the blue carpet arrival before a crowd whipped up by a brilliant DJ and then the game itself, a stellar performance especially by the Stockport Iniesta which reminded me of seeing the ‘solutions man’ star at the Nou Camp exactly twelve years earlier.

It was the little things I noticed. The vast campus with the training ground nearby, the bus loads of Sheikhs, the crowded megastore, the Asahi on draft, the Pierre Koffman fries on sale, the friendliness of staff searching bags, the myriad homelands of the fans being interviewed on the big screen. Surreal, but whetting the appetite for what we have to come in a couple of years if things calm down.

The moneyed Mancunian experience continued the next day, spending Christmas money at the Trafford Centre.

Twelve years of marriage was celebrated with our first taste of Mowgli – with some delightful orange wine…

very good, it was too – and it inspired me to recreate the Goan fish curry (stank the house out but tasted immense) alongside some delicious aperitifs at the elegant Municipal hotel, and digestifs at the very cool (though hard to locate) Nord.

The next day, more generosity of friends allowed me to enjoy / endure an Everton victory, notable for a freak goal and a chance meeting with the esteemed actor, Ian Hart. From his early role as Rabbit in the brilliant One Summer, via Backbeat and Boardwalk Empire, to more recent performances in Tin Star and The Responder, I’d long admired his acting and only a couple of weeks previously felt starstruck when we saw him going for coffee just around the corner from our house. Now, here he was stood skulking on WSAG island and we had a good chat before he obliged to a selfie.

More culture came with a great little exhibition at the Bluecoat, a retrospective of sorts, created quite brilliantly by Babak Ganjei. It was very ‘me’ but the kids loved it, too!

The real highlight of the holidays – well, to be honest, arguably also 37 long suffering years of support – came quite unexpectedly, as the best things in life often do. I spoke last time about my disappointment with the Blues on the commercial side; a couple of phonecalls and emails was all it took for them to restore my faith for now, but I’m not allowed to talk about it on social media, so that’s all I have to say about that.

The club may well be a mess off (and sometimes on) the field, but a day like the one me and Elijah experienced couldn’t have been bettered (well, a couple of players couldn’t be there, but the ones that did were fantastic both going through training drills and when signing autographs after the session) plus we were treated like kings before and after getting up close and personal with the first team squad, manager and legends of my youth.

I felt very fortunate to have been offered the opportunity not just to meet everyone and see the other side (hospitality, coaching, camaraderie and the human side of players – special mention for Coleman, Tarkowski, Keane, McNeil, Andre Gomes (who remembered hugging Betsy five years ago) and Youssef Chermiti who, according to Elijah, smelt of ‘fruit and flowers’) but also to see his excitement and the look of excitement and awe on his face when up close and personal with his heroes who seemed to really appreciate this encounter nearly as much as we did.

Whatever happens, I love you.

The very next day we visited the beautiful little Lancastrian town of Heysham for a lovely lunch to celebrate my mum’s birthday and, afterwards, the setting for – I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – the greatest music video of all time.

A haunting graveyard, in picturesque scenery, seemingly a world away from the maelstrom of football fervour. Imagine my surprise, then, that only a few weeks later, the bizarre worlds of Sean Dyche and Blossoms aligned with his cameo in their new video, which has to be seen to be believed…

Football, and Everton, are magic again – three victories in a week, the last of which we were very lucky to attend and I even realised a lifetime ambition of bumping into the King of the North himself, the great Andy Burnham whilst he was marching down the Goodison Road.

It wasn’t exactly a spectacle, but the relief as we left the stadium, to the beautiful strains of ‘We Shall Not Be Moved’, was palpable, and the excitement I witnessed on Elijah’s face at Man City, this scrappy victory which meant survival for another year, and the excellent Marine season closer as they approached their own moments of glory in the Liverpool Senior Cup and League Play Off Final, reminded me of the seminal quote from Fever Pitch which had a huge impression on me when I was learning about the game, and being a fan, myself.

“Football has meant too much to me, and come to represent too many things.

See, after a while, it all gets mixed up in your head, and you can’t work out if life’s **** because [Everton] are **** or it’s the other way around.

I’ve been to watch to many games, spent too much money, and fretted about [Everton] when I should have been fretting about something else. I’ve asked too much of the people I love.

OK, I can accept all that.

But I don’t know, perhaps it’s something you don’t understand, unless you belong…”

That Saturday evening, Elijah knew he belonged.

As I always have.

Apologies for not writing for a while, I know you’ve missed this – what was a monthly – confessional but now reappears every four months or so… Four months, in fact; four months in which two countries have landed on the moon, Shed Seven got a number one album (reminding me of the halcyon days of GCSEs being something I did, not taught) whilst Gladiators has returned to our screens, our King has declared his illness (hopefully he’s on the mend) and I’ve also had loads going on.

So has a friend.

Suffering back pains for a year, he also lost loads of weight, and couldn’t ignore any longer. He went the Doctor, was given a scary prognosis, endured CT scans and a FIT test – he can laugh about it now, but at the time it was terrible – the lowlight of the whole situation was his getting someone else’s used test.

The replaced test came back positive – the real difficult parts were telling his wife and his parents. An even more difficult colonoscopy ensued and, being a fellow Everton fan, the news of the points reduction whilst he was int he waiting room waiting for the outcome, didn’t help matters, but thankfully the outcome of the latter at least was positive. He now awaits the results of a MRI, a surreal experience, he says, so please pray for him.

Anyway, as I said, it’s been a while! I’ve watched loads of good films recently: The Killer, especially its soundtrack; Tenet, a little confusing but nicely so; The Outsiders, forty years old but still a classic; Jumanji: Next Level (fun and family friendly); Sicario, my favourite topic, classy and exciting; I’m Thinking of Ending Things, weird but good; Project Power, intriguing and fun; The Killing of a Scared Deer, simply surreal; Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, too much CGI but I liked Phoebe Waller-Bridge in it; Dune (part one) which I had to spread across three sittings, it’s that long – I loved the original when I was a little ‘un, and thought this was even better – moody and cool as, with Timothee Chalamet proving why he’s deemed the actor of his generation.

We can’t wait for part two – saw the trailer today, in fact, which brings us to my pick of the bunch and Wonka.

I saw that trailer a while back and thought it looked like Wes Anderson had spliced La La Land with the newest Matilda and it was even better than that! Our favourite bit was in the zoo, but the nuanced nods to the original (especially with Neil Hannon’s immaculate score which cleverly referenced the classics at the right time) left me with, I don’t mind admitting, a tear in my eye and a new found addiction to Dairy Milk.

Meanwhile, we’ve celebrated the kids’ successes: MOTMs and goals aplenty at football (and a couple of arguments with opposing dads), star roles in Christmas plays and carol services, a return to gymnastics for B (met Dan Purvis from the Olympics, really nice guy) and also found our new favourite cafe, The Potato Moon Cafe, literally around the corner, what with its impressive artwork and even more delectable Cruffins.

Oh, and we got an Alexa (evoking an episode of Black Mirror – their knowledge and predictions of deliveries is scarily accurate) and Betsy was on TV whilst Elijah got in the programme again and even met Sean Dyche after the Tottenham game, when not one of ten players bothered to stop and sign his shirt but thankfully the gruff-voiced, Kasabian-loving, smart-shoes wearing Midlander did.

Here he is, doing just that for an agog E.

Christmas came, well enjoyed, with some over indulgence, and some great Secret Santa gifts. Meanwhile, said friend is also putting weight on, a good sign for him. We watched loads of re-runs and quiz shows – my new year’s resolution is to get on one – and enjoyed Fool Me Once on Netflix. OK, a little formulaic if you’ve seen Harland Coben’s stuff before. Mr and Mrs Smith, on Amazon Prime, is very cool and very clever (for those of us who saw the original in the cinema!)

Plus, we are very excited to be going to see Richard Hawley in the summer, at whose last Liverpool gig I had a long chat with the genius Bill Ryder Jones whose new album, is a thing of beauty.

It gets more than a thumbs up from me.

Less attractive, though equally engrossing, is my new found interest in the Gridiron. Baltimore Ravens are my team but they didn’t quite make the Super Bowl although I still really enjoyed the match (well, Usher’s performance and especially that of Alicia Keys) and my love with American Football started thirty odd years ago with the team helmets featuring on Marathon bars, their iconic designs etched in my memories of Saturday morning swimming lessons and trips to the vending machines, but abated, then more recently returned what with the character storylines of the still excellent This is Us and the reason for my affinity with the Ravens, the underrated Silver Linings Playbook.

Talking of films, I heard recently that it’s twenty five years since the release of several seminal films of my early adult life: American Beauty, the focus of my dissertation (and now deemed inappropriate due to Kevin Spacey’s demise); Being John Malkovich, relevant because of celebrity obsession and A. I. paranoia, and Fight Club. More resonant than ever, what with male angst, kickback against corporate culture and omnipresent cosmetic surgery… it also reminds me of my single serving friend, whom I met at a very strange time in his life.

As previously stated, the half term break has allowed me to write this, and it brought with it a lovely stay at a retreat replete with a sauna and steam room (my new favourite escapes) and – now, here comes the long awaited art- a trip to the serene walls of the Lady Lever Gallery, some real hidden gems there including an all time favourite The Scape Goat by William Holman Hunt. Meanwhile, a friend was at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery and saw this beauty which I’d never seen before but really resonated with me, for obvious reasons:

Talking of which, Valentines’, which brought equal measures of excitement at a bottle of Fernet Branca, inspiring a new favourite cocktail (the aptly named Hanky Panky!) and disappointment at the organisation of a player meet and greet event that same day, at which E was meant to meet his hero but ended in despair (after a two hour wait, due to atrocious communication by the club) which resulted in a compensatory visit to the resplendent Liver Buildings, and a great exhibition of the artwork of the brilliant Paul Curtis.

Still, we’ve also got to spend some time in the garden – a sign that Spring is about to be sprung – so we have to hope that things are getting better for us all.

As the mornings and nights darken, and autumn leaves fill the streets, we go back to the start of the summer… twelve weeks is a long time!

So… yeah… she – La Serenissima – was taking us over, and we went to Venice.

Years of anticipation had led up to it. Money was saved, language brushed up on, research done for the day trips into the city… we arrived at Manchester airport, and the first crazy moment occurred on the way out of the toilets and Peter Beardsley was walking towards us – that Elijah was wearing the new away kit, modelled on the one Beardsley starred in for my first away match (Blackburn, September 1992, 3-2 victory) was a happy coincidence, and the little men both loved the kit.

The airport itself was a joy, with a great GF burger at Giraffe, with a loud stag do playing old school house classics as accompanying tunes next door, and despite a scare when we thought we’d lost a passport, it was off to Italy we went, a somewhat hairy flight preceding an electrical storm as we landed at the serene one for a week of Tobias Jones, Spritz, canals and some fantastic entertainment.

The standout memories of our day trips into the city were the remarkable architecture, breathtaking scenery, unforgettable gondola ride and the coolest museum I think I’ve ever been to – Creature di Gomma, replete with toys from my favourite childhood TV series (more of which later!)

Venice was what I expected and so much more. She looked as she’s appeared on screen myriad times: James Bond, Don’t Look Now, Death in Venice, Summertime, much more… and the various documentaries we watched before going, including one about the concerns over its future and the guy whose newsstand washed away in a flood, we met him and he gave me a custard pie.

Much more polite were the wonderful staff at Portofelice, our base for the week, making friends (some of whom I’m still in touch with now) and many memories, spending warm summer days by the pool reading a Gazzetta and drinking a caffe corretto… since returning, we were saddened a little by the bush crash at Maestra and the flooding of St Mark’s Square, which seems to be commonplace now.

Together, we took about a thousand photos, of the boats and the buildings and canals and that amazing fish market and Harry’s Bar (the birthplace of the Negroni) and this one was my favourite:

All in all, then, an unforgettable week.

Home, though, and back to reality. Everton losing regularly, Marine winning impressively, more new kits… nights watching TV rather than judging beauty pageants, revisiting the new series of Only Murders…, and more marvellous This is Us, including a lovely little storyline about a painting in the Met, and for us personally the anecdote of the horse & carriage ride, plus Ahsoka, the clever new Turtles and Trolls movies, and then the best thing we’ve watched (since last time) The Lovers.

Meanwhile, kids were turning ten and seven and losing more teeth, and soon it was time to go back to school. It’s always advisable to sing that Green Day song about waking me up when September ends, but amidst the tough few weeks some little nuggets brightened the mood: the discovery of Slim Chickens, reading the excellent The Descent of Man by Grayson Perry, who actually owns one of my pots after I gave it to him as his alter ego Clare circa 2004; Messi’s start at Inter Miami, the intense and ‘British Bear‘ four parter that was Boiling Point, plus some sumptuous new music by The National…

We had several celebrations, too – double golden weddings, with a This is Us themed speech after an Everton win; birthdays, new season goal sprees in new boots, me even playing football again, an ultimately failed parent governor challenge, and a much anticipated Everton defeat to continue the life affirming journey we’re on.

October came, clear signs of the seasons changing, lovely new Wes Anderson / Roald Dahl films being released, the incredible directorial debut of Misan Harriman (photographer to the stars) a short film on Netflix (The After) and an intriguing new murderous series (Bodies) and the always excellent Breeders well as arguably the best Comic Con, not least because I got to meet another childhood hero, Michael Ironside. Many will know him from Scanners, Starship Troopers, Total Recall (and even This is Us!) but he will forever be Ham Tyler from V for me and whilst Betsy was non plussed, I was in heaven having a selfie with him.

The props and sets were the best yet, too…

Half term finally came, Hallowe’en too (on which night some ruffian robbed our bucket of sweets; I hope it made them sick) and also some art: the brilliant Jeremy Deller interview, This Cultural Life; delicious Tim Spooner retrospective at The Bluecoat – I really liked the cut of his jib, and his hundreds of sculptures and drawings / paintings that filled the gallery – and then my bi-annual visit to the John Moores painting prize, impressive as ever, with my favourite offering being William Drummond’s powerful portrait of a cow (as Damien Hirst might have said about his own bovine masterpiece, it’s very moooving) all punctuated by some great chicchetti at Bacaro where they really looked after us and took us back… to Venice.

Next time: Christmas!