Please don’t worry: this is largely positive, but we start with a minor (Mancunian) moan.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: “I’ve been away, I’ve been working. But now I’m back and I need to know that you’re still there… I need to know that you still care…”
Those lyrics by Mr Fray ring true again, as nearly the first two months of the year have flown by without so much as a word on this anachronistic opportunity for my splenetic ramblings on life as we know it.
So, “life’s what happens when you’re busy making lesson plans,” John Lennon didn’t say, but it’s been all go in the present author’s household as January started the year off fine and February (so far) has been all about my little Valentines; both have passed without much event other than hard work, illness, life changes for some and good news for others.
Chipped front teeth, black charcoal toothpaste, experimenting with the Christmas gifts cookbooks when time allowed and fun times at pantomimes and parties…
Still, it was Valentine’s Day last week and I was reminded once again that the course of true love never did run smooth. We had a romantic interlude at our wedding venue which was much needed and very lovely… then, yes, I lost my wedding ring for a short period of time – daughter had hidden it in her room for a ‘prank’ – but my thinking was more about the writer of that statement, than its proof. Yes, Old Billy Wigglesword first coined the phrase about love and included it in one of his funnier, crazier plays in 1595.
A play which I think was actually about Everton’s start to 2018.
OK, so a Shakespearean farce might seem a strange analogy for my nod to this most frustrating of seasons, but the parallels are there for all to see. We’ve even got a coach who shares his name with the Bard. The plot of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is perfectly mirrored by what is happening on the pitch this year: I kind of imagine Bill and Farhad as Theseus and Hipployta, an about-to-be-married couple who get a visit from a troubled man with a complaint. £50 million later, and a few squad players lighter, everything eventually gets resolved, to a point. Those players who went out on loan must have been happy to go, such was the disappointment at the displays at Wembley and the Emirates this past month, which, mixed in with the ‘highs’ of somewhat fortunate victories and then a dull draw, perfectly encapsulated the ‘play within a play’ of this maddening season.
I won’t go on to say who plays Nick Bottom, he of the ass’s head, because his lover looks more like my wife which raised alarm bells when I happened upon this illustration whilst recently teaching the story. All we need to know is that it all works out in the end and if it doesn’t, we are encouraged to just think it was all a dream by mischievous fairy Puck (aka Robin Goodfellow) in the closing speech:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumber’d here,
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle team, sorry theme,
No more yielding but a dream.
In the midst of all this disappointment on the pitch, which I’d hoped had all been a nightmare, I suppose an FA Cup tie (on the anniversary of the best one ever, won by Dan Gosling in extra time, I was there and lost my voice in the 118th minute maelstrom) featuring Everton Ladies v Bristol City is a good analogy of the fight between Hermia and Helena in the performance this article is loosely based on but in reality, it felt more like a turning point for my waning support.
That there were 712 of us at the College Road Marine Travel Arena, is a sign I wasn’t alone, and several fellow fans have expressed their enjoyment of the event. Even Jesse Lingaard was there, with a ridiculous hood.
I’ve never pushed football with B; if anything, it’s used as a threat in our house following misbehaviour (some would say Everton is punishment for us all) and I’ve taken her to the free second half of Marine games when she was asleep, but for the first time she was aware of what we were doing and it was ‘our thing’. It was a proud moment to have my little girl sat on the barrier, shouting, “COME ON, EVERTON!” at the top of her voice and asking questions about what the girls were doing.
There were some patronising responses, sexist almost, who found it hilarious the game was against who it was against. All very hilarious if you’re carrying on in the 1960s but too smutty and inappropriate for me anyway, in 2018.
In this year of us men apologising, significant award ceremony stances and the very worthy #metoo campaign, in which I’m really enjoying reading B the various (and beautifully illustrated) Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls, I’m hopeful that the women’s game gets more credit and respect, too. It’s been noticeable to see the likes of Steph Houghton, Sue Smith and Rachel Finnis Brown getting more air time as pundits in the studio or presenting recently, whilst the likes of Toni Duggan have been a guest on Soccer AM (which itself has improved since losing a female presenter and ditching those terrible bits every week when a teenage girl would come on in a kit, then ‘Tubes’ would rip off his shirt) and every week there seems to be a stronger female presence as commentators on MOTD or guest journalists on the radio.
Maybe that can be a career opportunity for B, too? Living vicariously through my dreams.
It was good to see a proper football match where everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, with no trouble, plus it didn’t cost anything. Obviously I’m sure it’s not always like that but it was a perfect introduction to what I hope will be a lifelong love affair with Everton – at least the ladies – for my little girl.
Of course, the men’s team did at least get back to winning ways the following week and things looked a bit brighter, I suppose, for a short while anyway. The good news is that the wonderful craziness of SSC Napoli continues apace, whilst the World Cup ever nears…. But football nowadays is such a mess, a mash up of mad situations and comedy characters (with VAR being thrown into the mix) that we can’t help but wonder if the overpaid clowns are spoiling the games we love.
‘Twas ever thus: talking of circuses, we took the kids there last week, too.
One afternoon a year – or more, if you were lucky enough that the circus was coming to town – I’d marvel at the couple of hours spent in the ‘big top’ and the great afternoon’s entertainment which brought back memories of Blackpool Tower and the Mexican wolf boys.
What?
You don’t remember them?
Nowadays, circuses have even more sinister connotations, for example Papa Lazarou (really loved the League of Gentlemen reboot and the rest of the Inside No 9 series) or the classic Freaks, directed by Todd Browning. Obviously, in the circus, the animals are gone, and I’d argue some of the mystique with them, but as Morrissey embarks upon a new British tour which I’m sad to miss for pragmatic reasons, the animal charities have my support on this one. The lions and tigers, elephants and monkeys were great as a kid, but now I understand the conditions they might have faced, it’s for the best that they’re not involved for my kids today.
That doesn’t stop me marvelling at the idea of elephants marching through a city, though, as happened regularly when circuses arrived:
This is actually one of the most romantic films ever made, although its messages are mixed. I love it because of it pragmatism, its reality in the confusion and anti-climax that many relationships endure.
WATCH IT.
A more romantic notion is presented here:
Like I said, films are a tough watch. There’s loads at the cinema I fancy: Downsizing, Black Panther, Three Billboards… although I won’t get there for a while. Having kids is a million times better than being able to get to watch films, of course, but it’s something they don’t tell you at ante-natal class and we’ve now even de-registered Sky Cinema due to the absence of chances to sit down and watch a film.
Instead, we focus on TV: we’re thoroughly enjoying The End of the F***ing World (one of the best and most unusual things I’ve seen for a while, a mixture of Submarine and True Romance which I’d wholeheartedly recommend) and Moving On – my idea for a story was strong, I thought, but can see why this year’s offerings were better, and will endeavour to get on Pointless instead – meanwhile, I’m slowly ploughing through the box sets of Gomorrah and Black Mirror, both excellent so far too, although all those books don’t mark themselves… and most of my screen time is currently spent on CBeebies, Little Baby Bum or when time allows, the Vaccines on repeat or said jokey football (often on a dodgy stream)
Thankfully, back on the pitch, whatever happens come May, things will be resolved one way or another. In the Shakespearean play I referenced earlier, of course, everyone lives happily ever after, with the couples married off conveniently and nobody cares about who went with who and who said what.
Talking of lonely hearts and circuses… I got a new Beatles t-shirt this month, too.
And talking of The Beatles…
All you need is love (and marriage, love and marriage) and we talk of marriage as we now think repeatedly of weddings – not just ours, six years ago, but also those of the couples coming up who are sharing our historical nerves and worries and whom, we hope, enjoy their day as much as we did. Four in a fortnight, around the time we remember six years of being betrothed… to prepare, we had fun in town, looking for dresses and suits, in between buying LOL Surprise dolls and visiting the excellent Tom Wood exhibition at the Open Eye Gallery.
The day also involved me trying on suits, looked exactly like a gurning-on-stage Moz – more of which coming up shortly.
Yes, in half term we also returned to the Vincent to celebrate our anniversary, and a great time was had by all. Whilst in Sunny Southport, we also loved the exhibition at The Atkinson which featured prints from a selection of Pop artists – including classic Rauschenbergs and Warhols – and some paintings and sculptures of animals, including domestic pets, reminding me that Morrissey is currently on a tour of the UK and I’m but well jel of certain people I know who are there tonight to hear him sing your life in Leeds.
Whilst I’m disappointed, I just can’t be there this time around for obvious reasons, and I send all my love.
Love, then – it’s all about love. Love is a many splendoured thing… love lifts us up where we belong… all you need is love. It sounds very like lines from Moulin Rouge, I know, but whatever madness is going on in your life… love is all you need.
Especially when you get great news and then the next morning, your son says his name for the first time.
This is what it’s all about. Real love.
X
