As January grinds on I still dream of cycling in hotter climes. The warm breeze on my face, a clear blue sky, the hope of finding a sandwich in an hour or so and the open road ahead. Unfortunately Anna’s double vision is unchanged and I remain in Yorkshire. After the eye specialist consultations and their advice to wait for natural healing we await improvement. In the meanwhile my starring rôle as the chauffeur in ‘Driving Miss Daisy’ continues. To be fair Anna is catching buses and has been donning bicycle clips with no complaints

As a consequence of being at home then the phrase ‘the devil makes work for idle hands’ comes to mind and I have been rummaging  amongst  old documents. You can see Page 1 of a list of concerts I attended during 1971 to 1975. I even include the ticket for the Argent concert – note the entrance price. The list includes seeing David Bowie twice in a week. There are some artists I have completely forgotten such as Tim Buckley and (cough) Gary Glitter. You’ll be comforted to know that I only saw Gary as I waited for Vinegar Joe at the old Bradford Park Avenue ground on a sunny afternoon. Other memories of that afternoon include some bloke wandering past me, as I sat on the pitch, whispering did I “want to score some dope?” I think my response was “who are you calling a dope?”

Another nostalgic thought about the Argent concert is that I probably happily drove into the town centre and parked up near the centre for nothing and strolled to the Town Hall. Today I’d be parking about half a mile away and paying at least £5 to leave the car in a multi storey for three hours. Happy days.

Whist I’m going down memory lane then you’ll note that Mount Park Road in Ealing was not a ‘lane’ I should have parked on. I was spending a year in London with a car at the tender age of 18 years old. I was at Ealing Technical College beginning my Economics degree.  I now prefer its current designation as The University Of West London. Anyway the fine was £2.

I expected selling a car through We Buy Any Car.Com. would be commercial rape with some oily salesman. You’ve seen the adverts on TV. We sold a 12 year old Hyundai. The car belonged to a lady now unable to drive and resident in a care home. We got knocked down a bit on the price due to an administration charge and the fact it had some dents. However, it was quick and easy and with little aggravation. More surprising was a 68 plate 5 Litre Ford Mustang on their car park. Apparently dealers don’t want to touch these types of ‘muscle cars’ as they sit on their forecourts for ages. I cannot imagine how many thousands the previous owner lost on this misadventure.

On my bike rides I often ride through Saxton: a pretty village near Tadcaster. It seems to have it all (for it’s population of 1,000+). A calm rural setting with it’s own cricket field, pub, church and a primary school. Surrounding the settlement are large arable fields. I feel as much outrage as the locals to see that some pond life has dumped all this rubbish and cleared off. The reason for doing this is that they can’t be bothered to drive the nearest Household Waste site or that they are avoiding paying commercial charges for disposing of this stuff properly. Frankly if the new Government brings back public flogging for these animals then it will be appropriate.

Now with a few dark and cold nights on my hands I signed up for an evening course at The University of York – ‘Bob Dylan, The Nobel Poet’. This dissects Bob through the ages in terms of his lyrics. We’re looking at the message (or not!) and the origins of the lyrics composition. They’re about 17 on the course and most are devoted Dylanologists who love the man. I don’t love him but he may the most important composer and artist of 20th Century popular music bar none. (Sorry Paul and John).

I had never seen the harbour so calm as it was at Whitby. My first wife deigned to be taken to the coast for lunch and a walk along the pier. How could you pass up the chance for a ride in a Morgan on such a sunny day? Yes, I spoil her.

You’ll be pleased to see our ceiling has a new patch on it. If the plumbing has been sorted and it gets painted over I somehow feel I will have lost an old friend I made contact with last year.

The brutal disease of Motor Neurone Disease has struck Rob Burrows. The information hit the Rugby League community hard. He is a hero with a sparkling career in an all conquering Leeds team. The affection with which he is held is increased due to his physical size. At 5 foot 5 inches he’s a unique ‘giant’ in a sport full of exceptional specimens of the human form. The diagnosis is beyond cruel when you consider he is only 37 years old. In the various TV clips, of the game in front of 21,,000 fans, it was hard not to have a tear in your eye as he ran onto the pitch for the last 5 minutes. He certainly did.

Meanwhile back in Hollywood: Megxit. I’ve nothing useful to add to the spectacle of this negotiation other than it never seemed likely that their integration into the Firm would work out. Anyway one unedifying spectacle is that the Queen seems to have been a victim of this debacle. At 93 years old she’s been left to chair this divorce settlement after having been treated disrespectfully by the public resignation. She’s not at fault, why do this to her?

Continue reading MND, Molars & Megxit – Week 3 : 2020 →

If you’re a landlord you need to have a few trades or suppliers, on short notice, to step in and put right problems. However, I would caution all landlords to inspect the problem prior to initiating the cost of a trade visit. You’ll be disappointed and surprised at how impractical many people are today, especially if they’re a tenant.

We once let to a doctor who was unable to change a lamp. We were called down to this ‘emergency’. On another occasion a set of Japanese academics implored us to change a whole light fitting because the replacement bulb was now unobtainable: needless to say it wasn’t. Usually our better tenants will go through a long weary explanation of how they went through all sorts of sequenced diagnostics before contacting us. Sadly this sequence can omit such basics as checking the fuse. When satisfied that the problem needs attention we contact one of our regular trades. One member of our supply chain is a small appliance shop in North York

It’s inescapable that appliances do break (but seldom completely die). I say this because our ‘go to’ little shop can resuscitate most things. I had to get to understand the operation of this quirky establishment before I got to love it. For example telephoning is not productive as you might hope. It is not uncommon to go through a series of ‘Press One for parts’ type of instructions before getting to a ‘department’ where inevitably no one answers and you have to leave a voice mail. If you’d never visited the outlet then this telephone experience would lead you to expect a big outfit. In fact it is a small corner shop in a terraced house built when Queen Victoria was young. Continue reading My Kind Of Retail – Week 2 : 2020 →

Bill Reed passed in early December. It had been a 15 year struggle with cancer and whilst he coped brilliantly then eventually it called time. I had known him over 55 years. He must have been my oldest friend. In fact so many of my passions and values came from him that I owe him an incalculable debt. He came into my life as my sister’s boyfriend in the early 1960s. Our own relationship started in earnest in 1965 when he sat me on his shoulders in The Scratching Shed at Elland Road and started my life long love affair with Leeds United. From here he married, my sister, Ann Marie, and formally became part of my life. Always true, always completely trustworthy, always a friend, always fun and forever one of our family despite an eventual divorce.

He lived in Leeds and we met whether at Elland Road, at our house, mutual friends or his flat. It’s impossible to list how we shared many amazing times together. A few included a Christmas morning where a present of a football was wrapped, beneath the paper, in chicken wire with bags of grit in the package to give it a very odd noise when you rattled it. I think it must have taken me ages to open it!  Next was getting a call from my housemaster at boarding school when I was 17 years old saying that the next day I’d be going to The FA Cup Final (Leeds vs Arsenal). What an unexpected thrill. Other expeditions included finding his uncle’s WW1 grave in Northern France as we ventured abroad seeking his location. All these trips had hilarious moments and great camaraderie. Bill was my Best Man and that included a Stag Night dinner at The Flying Pizza in Leeds where unsurprisingly I drank way too much!

Throughout his life Bill liked to read and was passionate about sports but not many other hobbies. He worked until he was 67. It was people and their company he cherished. I can hardly remember Bill not working and the farmers or work colleagues, who I hardly met, loomed large in my life. Their legend was chronicled through stories of boozy lunches and foreign trips. If that was one set of friendships then he adored his grandsons. Also he would be delighted at a chance meeting in the street with, say, a waiter he used to know at a local restaurant. Everyone who came into contact with him found a positive and welcoming man with such a joie de vivre. He truly was loved.

Latterly he’d come to stay with Anna and me. This would entailed a hearty meal and either some cricket or football on the TV. It’s some time since I saw him take a drink but he was a knowledgeable connoisseur when it came to the grape and usually had a bottle in the boot of the car. 

We’ll drink to his memory as we say our final farewell on January 10th.