February 12, 2018

Breaking down stereotypes is important. As a bloke of numerous years then my daughters will confirm that I have ‘baggage’. Step forward Lieutenant Colonel Lucy Giles. She is the first female college commander (?) at Sandhurst. In a week when we were celebrating British women getting the vote then the BBC were talking to prominent women who have broken through ‘glass ceilings’. All good.

She came across as very personable and has seen service around various conflict zones. Through talent and a re-calibration of the way the Armed Forces respects and nurtures female talent then she has ended up in this senior role. The interview on The One Show went according to plan and eventually the presenter called an end to it and thanked her. She graciously responded but asked one favour. Of course? Can I just say hello to my two children who are watching the programme…

Talking of TV then I am not a great watcher of ‘who dunnits’. So when Anna watches the next murder frenzy being poured over by energetic yet dysfunctional detectives, often driving classic old British cars, I glaze over. I see other things in the episode.

Endeavour had the young detective attending a scene in heavy rain. The rain was falling like stair rods from a powerful hosepipe. It wasn’t British rain and the light was wrong – the sky darkens with rain. Not here: I was expecting someone to appear in sunglasses behind the collected plod under umbrellas looking at a prostrate form with a bolt protruding from his ear.

Added to this was the problem with the 1960’s classic cars. ‘Working’ cars are often dirty and, especially with busy policemen, neglected. These particular cars had small rivulets of water standing on their gleaming paintwork. The rivulets arise from the fact that the owners spend most of their waking hours rubbing Autoglym polish into the paintwork. Anyway, surprisingly, my first wife did not appreciate my informed commentary and I was invited to leave the room.

Going bald means more trips to the hairdresser. This is because what you have left doesn’t sit well on your head and you start to look like an elderly Geography teacher unless you keep it trimmed. As a man who has a ‘lot off’ then talking to Clare, my hairdresser, is not difficult but I tend to ask questions that interest me! We got onto who owns the Salon and the how the owners treat her. I heard of unpaid leave for a funeral, crumbling infrastructure, excess hours and the like.

All these things were batted away by the owners who by all accounts were professionals who had other responsible jobs and worked in large well resourced organisations. Regrettably Clare’s only ever raised these issues when they were passing through and she was brandishing scissors over a mane. So we discussed how she should properly corner them and discuss these issues in a heartfelt, list structured, practised but non-threatening way. I think it was a useful consultation but the haircut price remained the same!

Got to admit Elon Musk is an impressive nutter. Lord knows it is spectacular amount of dosh to burn on a trip up around the planet. It helps to be worth $21 billion but I was impressed with the sports car image. Sadly it wasn’t a Morgan.

The weekend saw me out of my depth. I attended a University of York Lifelong Learning course called “A Writer’s Workout: Part Two”. I think I can put pen to paper but compared to the other course members I felt like I was not in their league. Regular writing exercises punctuated the day. The lecturer picked on people to read out their work. One involved writing a postcard to your mother or father (and there is an issue at home). There were no other instructions or advice.

I composed something brief, uninspired and poor and it was handed to another course member to write back. Their postcard, handed to me, read:

“Dear Arthur, The police were around again today. Keep your head below the parapet, son. If anyone asks why you aren’t in the army, tell them you’ve got a bad heart – it doesn’t show. This lot will be over by Christmas and then it won’t matter. All the best, son – Dad”

How brilliant and creative. Another exercise was where we threw a dice with pictures on them and from here you constructed a character. My die were a parachute, a smiley face and a bee. I wrote some rubbish about a conman on the run. One lady took her die and pictures then wrote about a Santa Claus in a Garden Centre! Again, remember she had 60 seconds to think up this situation.

At 4pm I crept out of the classroom feeling wiser but feeling that I’d got away, by a hair’s breadth, from being humiliated.

(The doing away with ‘Men’ and ‘Female’ specific toilets in the University to gender neutral was a surprising development. My Favourite Eldest corrected my exasperated recidivist tendencies and confirmed that this is a good thing).

I’m sure you’ll share my disappointment at failing to procure Britney Spears tickets for her gig in Scarborough. I could have bought some but at £137 each I was not tempted. We saw her Piece Of Me show in Las Vegas in 2016. It’s fabulous and I hope the weather behaves for the Yorkshire fans who’ll turn up.

Recycling is a very good idea. City of York Council’s advice is that only plastic bottles can be recycled and placed in your recycling containers. The rest can be taken to various recycling locations around the city. The following guide is for York. Of interest is the triangle and number stamped on the bottom of most plastic containers – this secret unlocks the mystery of what you can do with your waste:

No, please don’t thank me…

February 2, 2018

I’ve sat in a lot of meetings at work where you’ve felt like a prisoner, that is, unable to escape. This is where somebody is probably covering worthy stuff but it is long winded, bureaucratic and bluntly of no interest. When it was over there was a great sense of relief and I may have inadvertently broken into a skip on the way out of the room.

Today I felt that type of emotion at the end of Pilates. Lou, the instructor uttered the magic words “just find a position that you can be comfortable in” and then she switched off the light. We all wearily came to a prostrate halt, flat on our backs on the mat. We knew the ‘one sided planks’, abdominal exercises, contortions to unlock your hip flexors or very unnatural movements to strengthen your gluteus maximus muscles had finished. Lying in the dark for two minutes we could reflect on the fact that probably Wednesday at 1.30pm would come around again quickly. However, for now, it was over. (Funnily enough a wet bike ride in 5°C over 50 miles appeals more than Pilates).

On the theme of pain then it seems appropriate to talk about the proposed Leeds United logo. It lasted six hours before the Managing Director, on the local BBC radio station, abandoned it and offered consultation over a new one. I still tend to think that large corporate decisions are usually reached intelligently. I know this naivety is akin to implicitly trusting policemen and thinking that banks are honourable. What happened with this sub 1930’s Italian Fascist aberration will be the subject of endless brand marketing courses for decades. It was simply inept and complacent. However it did bring all the fans together!

For those of your who peruse “Tony’s View Of The World’ you’ll see that I have been writing to Welsh luminaries about their brutal and short sighted parking regime. I’m not expecting any sympathy. However on another injustice then I had the opportunity to vent, in a calm yet destructive way, with Open Reach about our non availability of Superfast broadband last week.

This opportunity came about through our local MP, Julian Sturdy. He initially held a public meeting and then a supplementary meeting with Open Reach. A selection of local village representatives were invited to attend. We’re making progress on installation but they are a year behind schedule. Personally trying to cope with, at best, an internet speed of 1mb is difficult.

Open Reach turned up hoping to only ‘look forward’. They were a little taken aback at having to review the process and it’s apparent historic challenges. ‘The past informs the present’ I always find. However, we all finished up friends and we meet again in March.

For those who are detached from the political process then when your MP gets involved in the nitty gritty of your personal frustrations then they can seem very relevant and useful.

Talking about York then I learned that New York is not named with any direct connection to my fine city. It was in fact named after the Duke of York. This new name was in his honour when the British took over New Amsterdam in 1664. Don’t pretend that you never learn anything here.

January 8, 2018

When you meet other people, if you’re retired, they are often flummoxed as to what to ask you. After all, in their minds, you are close to death now and given that it is the winter and you cannot tend your garden or visit the bowls club you clearly must be at home in your slippers watching Jeremy Kyle drinking soup. What on Earth is there to talk about? However, if on the very rare occasion where they actually do ask you it is hard to know what to say you’ve been doing! This is because none of it adds up to anything very weighty or sounding important like, “Oh, I’ve been in Newport for two days talking to customers”. (Probably talking bollocks with no useful outcomes more like). So, anyway, I decided to wrack my brain and write up the diary for the week.

Saturday

All the daughters gone! Having the house back to ourselves meant that we could turn off the radiators in the spare rooms, clean the bathrooms, restock the fridge and get back to normal. Such pearls of ‘millennial’ wisdom will be lost until they next appear. Katrina observed, when making a ragu, that our fresh carrots were ‘out of date’. Never in all my long years have I worried about the ‘use by’ date on carrots. In fact they are usually boiled to death or made so small that any flavour is lost and it seems their age is not critical. However, we can all agree with “what do I know?” 

The Favourite Youngest’s best moment came when recalling one of her Christmas nights out in York. One of the party had brought along a dog to the nightclub. Not unreasonably the bouncer stopped her taking it in. At this point indignation, hurt and subterfuge kicked in. It was explained that Fido was a trainee guide dog. As part of its training then it was being familiarised with social situations. The sceptical bouncer relented. In fairness the dog had been a trainee guide dog but failed the programme and was now a pet. Kids eh?

One downside of the daughters’ departure is that I will have to watch Season Two of ‘The Crown’ on Netflix all by myself.

With this tranquillity I managed to write an album review for the Americana Music Show. In fact it became one of my ‘Records Of The Week’ – Grayson Capps. I had quite a lot of affection for this release not least because I nearly cycled past his home in Alabama. Another chore was thinking about renewing my car insurance. You will know the situation where a renewal quotation comes in the post. The new quotation is usually an uplift, over the previous year, of 25 to 30%. With this you go through the procedure of going back to the comparison web sites to get quotations from other insurance companies nearer your current cost. I’m used to this administration but I do hate them for it. Imagine the truly older folk who blindly renew and incur all these pointless extra costs.

Sunday

The Holiday Inn Express was our destination before a night at The Sage in Gateshead with Candi Staton. (You can see my review of the concert under ‘Music’). The hotel Reception was crowded with revellers checking in; one girl was stood there in full make up but with her hair in curlers! On the streets of Newcastle we passed smokers. However, it wasn’t tobacco but marijuana that they were smoking. The Geordies were dressed to the nines and many were not wearing a coat, hat and gloves (like this wuss). Before departing from Yorkshire my evening attire was discussed. Anna suggested a new favourite shirt that I recently bought from John Lewis. I did point out that the shirt was checked and that Candi was more Soul than Country & Western…

A wonderful night and one of our better New Year’s Eves for many years.

Monday

New Years Day saw all the shops shut! Anna had to abandon Newcastle city centre without a retail experience. Nothing was open on this Bank Holiday. We drove home by the resort of Tynemouth to Yorkshire. It had been a late night and so a few pints of beer were sunk. I made a decision to not drink anything for the rest of the week. (Friday night may see this pledge abandoned).

As always the football engages us and we were waiting for the Leeds United result – a disappointing draw at home to Nottingham Forest. The expectation of so many LUFC fans is so hard to fathom. If Leeds ever do get promoted then I think West Yorkshire will be alight.

Tuesday

I wrote sometime ago about a dodgy knee and it remains a priority to restore it to good health. I attended the local gym in Acomb. After lots of rehab then the recovery continues and the programme includes following a number of exercises, some on equipment and some on the mat; with a set number of repetitions or time allotments. All this progress allows me to dream of a summer pedalling through Europe. Bliss.

A bit more mundane was the task later to visit one of our rental properties to inspect a damp patch on a downstairs bedroom wall. Not a crisis but not a good situation. The resolution requires removing all the plaster, inserting a protective membrane and then re-plastering. Anything that involves old or new plaster is the filthiest job in construction. We’ve asked for a quotation and await the bad news.

Wednesday

I don’t like Pilates. The instructor, Lou, is fabulous and patiently answers all my questions about which muscle group she is attempting to reawaken with the latest convoluted stretching. I do it because it is vital to keep supple and keep you body in balance. However, when it is over I am happy to have another week between me and the floor mat. It seems to be the ladies who turn up. More men need to take this up. At £5.50 for an hour I may be saving the NHS a lot more in due course.

Some good friends, Jane and John, came around later for our thoughts on their planned holiday to Canada. It was good to share our recommendations and thoughts so soon after our trip.

Thursday

I felt that after a week off the road that I needed to get back on the bike. I set off well wrapped toward Cawood. The temperature fell to 2°C and steady rain became heavier and penetrative. As I started to literally freeze then an intended short cut via Ulleskelf wasn’t available due to road flooding (due to the River Wharfe rising). I ended up doing a painful and saturating 30 miles. When I got home my hands thawed with immense pain as I peeled off sopping wet kit and I then dived into the bath. I wonder why I cycle in warmer climes!

At W H Smith’s I picked up a copy of the end of year copy of Country Music People. It contained a couple of my reviews and had a full page of my end of year Top 10 records. Fame at last!

I went out early evening to a public meeting with our local MP (Julian Sturdy) about the delays in installing Superfast broadband in three local villages. Open Reach’s performance is beyond appalling and the meeting vented their feelings on the MP and a representative from the client (who appointed Open Reach). It was interesting to talk afterwards to the MP about the General Election result. At the meeting was an old Moores’ colleague who I’d guess I hadn’t seen for at least 15 years – Bob Redwood, our former Export Sales Manager. He and his wife looked well.

Back home I typed up some notes to circulate around neighbours about the meeting. I doubt most will care. Anna cares! She’s sick of me swearing at the computer as it seizes when opening a web page.

Friday

On the count down to the in-laws house being sold (they have moved to a rather splendid home in Pocklington) then it is all hands to the pump to facilitate the sale. I initially stayed at home to receive four items of furniture that were being relocated to our house by two chaps in a white van. Two pieces are apparently being stored for the Favourite Eldest, as and when she buys a property. I reckon they’ll be going to the charity or community furniture store in due course, as that will never happen!

Then I got to drive to their house across York to dismantle some large furniture that we cannot palm off on a charity shop. Either it has glass in it or they couldn’t get it down the stairs. Speaking to other people who have emptied houses then they were similarly rueful at letting things go to the Household Waste Site or charity shops. We would have loved to have passed several quite expensive items onto a good home of someone we knew. Sadly no one has the need or space. When I got to the Household Waste Site it had a long queue and some folk were still unloading Christmas trees.

The reward for all this was lunch at Café 68 located within Cycle Heaven on Hospital Fields Road. Talking to Piers, the co-owner, he regaled us with a story about stopping at cricket legend Geoffrey Boycott’s house in Boston Spa, with other cyclists, for a bacon sandwich recently. GB was the complete host and the invite came through him knowing one of the cycle party. In fact after a couple of hours they all wanted to get off whilst Geoff kept talking!

December 23, 2017

So when are you mentally in the perfect place? A large glass of merlot, the fire crackling in the hearth and a boxset? Sitting on a park bench watching the kids on the swings as they whoop and scream? Well, mine would be on the bike rolling along through the countryside with a podcast keeping my attention.

I remember, on my rides in the USA, listening to various podcasts. Such was the pleasure that I can tell you where I was when I listened to  the Word podcast with Rick Buckler’s story about The Jam (Interstate 61 in Louisiana), Ashley Hutchings talking about Sandy Denny (Natchez Trace Parkway, Tennessee) or Nicola Benedetti on Desert Island Discs (Interstate 50, Kansas). I can also tell you that I was climbing out of Gilling East on Thursday up a 10% gradient hill when I listened to a podcast about a book on David Bowie (David Bowie: A Life by Dylan Jones). It was an enjoyable ride but the gears kept slipping on the bike and the temperature was hovering at about 1°C.

There was one hilarious story about Bowie’s relocation to Switzerland (to avoid UK tax and his drug dealers) that resulted in him living up a mountain. However one night at 5.30pm came a knock on the door. “Hello David”. It was Roger Moore! A delighted Bowie invited him in for tea and they got on so famously that drinks and dinner followed. The next day – knock, knock. “Hello David”. This continued to the point that around 5pm most nights Bowie extinguished the lights and hid under the kitchen table to avoid “Hello David”. By this time I was on the outskirts of York but with no feeling in my fingers.

Christmas brings stupid time pressures doesn’t it? We have a leaking shower pump and needed to have a plumber visit to replace it. Eventually in time these things get resolved. However, close to Christmas tradesmen stop working and the arrival of guests over Christmas meant resolution was important. I’m pleased to say that a plumber did turn up but with the wrong parts and then had to make various calls and depart to Plumb Center to get the correct bits. (I shouldn’t complain as I made quite a decent living latterly trying to help organisations stop this type of wasteful running around). You’ll be relieved to know that in any case I had a fall back plan of fitting a rose to a hosepipe and sluicing down close relatives outside the back door.

Famous Belgians anyone? I was drawn to the headline that Hercule Poirot and his fellow countrymen were now stopping the Telegram Service. Apparently, it was now only used by bailiffs! In an age where even sending Christmas cards by post seems beyond obsolete then I can well remember telegrams that came for our wedding and even some when I was at boarding school. In fact who doesn’t enjoy the pleasure of receiving a long informative letter from a friend through the post? Along with vinyl records, dandelion and burdock, people domiciled in the UK on Call Centre phone lines and Huddersfield Town, in the top division of football, then I reckon they may be back eventually. No doubt some Californian 19 year old entrepreneur will think that the joy of having a bloke perspiring in a uniform (after leaping from his motorbike) delivering a message on paper from someone in Papua New Guinea might be quite thrilling. He’d be right.

The BBC Sports Personality Of The Year came around and the public voted for Mo Farah. I can’t be bothered to watch it (nearly three hours of Gary Lineker?) but I do take an interest in the winner mainly because it can rank up there with The Eurovision Song Contest for stupidity. I note that Chris Froome with four Tour de France victories and One Vuelta victory didn’t get the nod. Ten years ago we’d have given him an Earldom, let alone a trophy, for what he has achieved on the bike. Clearly there’s the small matter of being a bit liberal with asthma medication to overcome. I hope he does. I have to say that as a Kenyan he’s done us proud.  

Before I stop talking about cycling then I must report on feline developments. I subscribe to a Facebook Forum for cycle touring and you get some ‘dumb as bat shit’ stuff on here but my latest favourite was the following question:

Needless to say that as most of the correspondents are American then several took this very seriously (apologies to any US readers!) I was concerned about the cat’s safety and enquired as to how it would wear a helmet? Someone logically answered that this wouldn’t be needed because they always landed on their feet. Silly me, of course.

A pre-Christmas family tradition of a team event saw the four of us travel to Whitby (Yorkshire coast). There were sharp divisions on where to eat and more importantly what to eat. The ‘I’m virtuous and eating like a mouse’ faction were having nothing to do with Fish & Chips or a Full English Breakfast. Eventually the ‘normal and eat anything’ wing reached an amicable solution and father got his full English whilst the tallest of the offspring had a  sausage sandwich. Meanwhile the ‘virtuous’ nibbled toasted teacakes. However, this visit made these pages as the eldest spotted Mr & Mrs Lawson perambulating around the town. Alison and Peter were visiting relatives from Edinburgh. Peter and I used to work together, probably shortly after decimalisation, but more importantly we have cycled a few thousand miles together in Europe. They were intercepted for a cup of tea and a catch up. A lovely additional Christmas present.

The gym has hideous vacuous pop music playing music and TV’s showing the types of thing that you always wondered who watched them. So as I’m stretching and stuff I’m drawn to a Christmas film (Holiday In Handcuffs) that has a scene where a daughter is pleading with her father not to tell embarrassing jokes, like he does with waitresses in restaurants, when her boyfriend makes a planned appearance. Funnily enough I know a man like that…

Merry Christmas.

December 11, 2017

The present Mrs Ives leapt out of bed this morning and threw back the curtains hoping to see snow. In fact I think it is another BBC pre-occupation. Lord, how they love floods, torrential rain, drought etc. It seems a way of keeping the BBC regions busy in posting footage of weedy little presenters stood in the middle of nowhere against a backdrop of falling snow whilst a Land Rover manfully drags a Vauxhall Corsa out of a ditch. So I’m not impressed. Well I wasn’t until I saw a Deliveroo bike rider spinning down a slushy road as large wet flakes descended on him as he wearily pedalled toward to some residential location to deliver a cold pizza. I like riding a bike… but respect.

I keep seeing references to one of my favourite boxsets – House Of Cards. The story being that Kevin Spacey has been sacked and it will now battle on without him. Frankly, it was out on its legs as regards the storyline before he was ‘outed’ as a sexual predator. However money talks and Robin Wright will soldier on with dwindling viewing figures.

The point I wanted to raise was that Hollywood seems to have many empowered females and men who Tweet or end up on platforms denouncing Trump, most things Right of Centre and sometimes worthy causes like land mines, African poverty and the like. They most certainly have now come out against Weinstein, Spacey and a whole raft of US TV personalities. Quite right too. But we need to cut to the chase as to the credibility of all these keyboard warriors on their own lives and the abuse around them in the industry.

Spacey and Weinstein must have been known, to men and women alike, as horrid and intimidating people who have abused, at will, for decades. Did it suit all and sundry to turn a blind eye to this appalling state of affairs? Of course it did! It all damages how interested I will be when their next Tweet tells me about some unbelievable political outrage.

As regards giving the old boy an outing I was instructed to point the Merc toward Chatsworth House near Chesterfield during the week. This splendid stately home was holding a Christmas market in the grounds as well as presenting part of the house with a Dickens Christmas theme. As expected there were plenty of opportunities to buy stuff. However, I have to report that after Anna’s skirmish with Chinese made products in Canada she is now very skeptical about all these ‘local crafts’. After leaving the House we found a farm shop on the Chatsworth estate and bought some delicious fresh produce. In fact the shop is nearly worth the drive alone.

Talking about celebrities then I went for a bike fit recently. Andy Fraser was the man who took all my measurements and then sat me on a bike jig and with lasers tried to get me set up right. So apart from learning that I am shrinking (don’t tell my youngest daughter who’s convinced I am a dwarf in any case), that I have one foot shorter than the other and have the hip flexibility of an oak tree it was all good. For the perspicacious amongst you then will note that he shares his name with a legendary bass player (of Free). So we got to discussing music and he plays in a band. They had their moments in the spotlight including playing a festival in Sandbach. At the said event they went on stage after Ray LaMontagne. I have to say that I have all the albums by this American Singer Songwriter; he’s wonderful. A quick look at Wikipedia revealed:

“In 2009 LaMontagne paid $1.05 million for a 103-acre farm in Ashfield, Massachusetts, the former residence of U.S. Ambassador William C. Bullitt, where he lives with his wife, Sarah Sousa, and their two children in the farmhouse built in 1830”.

Andy, it could have been so different.

So how many of you have been to a World Cup Final? The recent appearance of the England Rugby League team in the Final against Australia brought to mind my attendance in 1970. The Final was played at the Leeds RL Club ground. The game is noted for England’s defeat and it being an almighty punch up.

Must go and feed the huskies.

November 27, 2017

I was exhorted by the present Mrs Ives to try and empty the garage. It is undoubtedly full to the rafters including bikes and a car. Under scrutiny was a large oak box (and lid) that I had kept with a plan to transform it from a crate to furniture. Despite her observation of woodworm then I was still wavering about its retention until she hit a nerve – “doesn’t the Morgan have wood in it?” At this point a quick decision was made to take the box to the tip.

As I continue to live with a less than perfect knee then I volunteered to go for an MRI scan. This was done at a unit attached to the University of York. So I spent 20 minutes lying absolutely still whilst I was slid into a tunnel. For my £310 the images now get despatched electronically to somewhere in the world where a musculoskeletal expert looks at it and then sends it back to my physiotherapist. The results were not all that bad and hopefully I can delay ordering a wooden leg for some time to come.

Friday saw me in London meeting up with four old friends. The first, of the party, Neil I met in 1974 when we shared digs as we attended Manchester Polytechnic. The others were added in 1978 (Paul, Tim and Peter) when I worked for Ford Tractor Operations in Basildon. We dined at The Hawksmoor at Seven Dials and ran up a bill of £314 and one of the party had only one course and left early! Needless to say we met in a pub beforehand and some of us adjoined to one afterwards!

(Four friends Tony? The picture shows three? I’d love to report that Crockford was under the table paralytic but less excitingly he was hauled out early to help his wife with her West End coat shopping).

There is frankly nothing but joy about a Royal Wedding. In the scheme of things then they don’t ordinarily work out well but in the first instance you have to be pleased for the happy couple. What Meghan is marrying into seems beyond comprehension. For an independent and wealthy woman her life will now be a tabloid hell until her first child. She must love him. After motherhood then a woman in her forties with a young family will not be of great interest. Hopefully, in the interim, she can keep a naked Harry out of Las Vegas hotel rooms with other nubile women carrying mobile phones.

Like the rest of the nation then I wish them health and happiness…  and a day off work for my daughters would be nice whilst we watch the wedding.

November 9, 2017

I’ve felt constrained of late about writing a journal. This was until the future ownership of Moores Furniture Group was sorted. I am a trustee of the pension scheme. The constraint was that I often get asked ‘what’s going on?’ at Moores and with the pension scheme. It felt very disingenuous to even discuss the subject let alone say ‘everything is fine’ whilst the company’s ownership was being changed.

My former employer has changed from being owned by Masco Corporation to Hilco, a Private Equity company.  Not a very exciting development but the employees’ pension scheme has got, in effect, a new sponsor. As a trustee this change was subject to some discussions and in five weeks I ended up in London twice, Manchester once and Leeds three times. It involved too many emails to be bothered to count and a few conference calls. To give you a comparison then being a trustee usually involves going to Leeds twice a year and a lot of reading in between. The outcome was acceptable to all the parties involved and we move on. However, it was interesting to engage the grey matter on the types of thing I used to do.

In other serious news then my in-laws relocated to a residential home in Pocklington. This has entailed the selling of their home. Anna has been very busy with all that entails. I am on first name terms with the folk at the tip with the carloads of surplus pieces of timber from the garage and old tins of paint that a lifetime accumulates. (There is a good argument for my family to maintain my health to avoid the house emptying that will be needed when they cart me off.

On Facebook I am back to producing a few more ‘York In 30 Second’ videos, please take a look. I’ve added one on cats and the Solar System so far! Yes, I know – not much of a sales pitch.

Music continues to be a pre-occupation with a trip to London to see Nile Rodgers (he, of Chic) at the present Mrs Ives’ behest. Quite something to get 20,000 people to stand up for two hours dancing to classic 1980’s disco. I was even throwing a few shapes (in the dark you’ll be relieved to hear). This concert was after seeing Brandy Clark in Manchester with the Favourite Youngest Daughter. Brandy is working her way up to large venues as she tours with three albums now under her belt. However it has been a long road for a lady now into her forties to get to this level of celebrity.

This progress brought to mind one of the albums that I recently reviewed for The Americana Music Show. Randomly from a list I picked a group of talented bluegrass musicians from Boulder, Colorado called The Railsplitters. It is a great album (Jump In) with beautiful songs sang by a vocalist with a voice not dissimilar to Lily Allen’s. As they try and grow their audience they have ended up at Selby Town Hall on February 9th. It seems quite unreal that this is on their path to stardom but good luck and I can’t wait.

I have written about the podcasts that I listen to and have been a devotee of Nothing But The Blues for over six years. It was a pleasure to pop across to Market Weighton to meet up with the presenter, Steve Jessney, and to see two studios – his home den where he pre-records the show and then go to the radio station (Vixen 101) to see another show going out live (where they played me a Soul classic on request).

 Prince Charles when pressed on who was his favourite ‘pop stars’ volunteered The Three Degrees. They performed at his 30th Birthday Party in 1978. So with this connection I was irresistibly drawn to follow, lead singer, 70 year old Sheila Ferguson on Twitter (cough) She is one of many artists who spend a disproportionate amount of the day seeking and re-Tweeting abuse for Donald Trump on the ‘echo chamber’ of Twitter. For all I know, it may a useful deployment of her time as all that lies ahead, at her age, are jigsaws, Strictly Come Dancing and Werther’s Originals. However, after her umpteenth re-Tweet of something derogatory she then Tweeted that there was such negativity in the world at the moment. I pointed out that she was generating it! Being a wise old bird she noted my advice. As you can see, I am now her mentor.

October 3, 2017

The week started with some hilarity. Hoovering out the car is not an obvious foundation for Comedy Gold. The present Mrs Ives had lost the plastic fitting that you can fit onto the end of the vacuum’s hose to poke into all the parts of the car that you need to reach. In order to resolve this shortage I rang the local shop and, probably poorly, described what I wanted.

“Ah, a crevice tool”.

Cue uncontrollable giggling in Acaster Malbis. Simple pleasures but hoovering the car will never be the same again.

In looking at Twitter I came across a superb image (and post) that immediately looked very amusing and likely to be popular. So despite approbation from the FED (Favourite Eldest Daughter) I lifted it straight onto Facebook (giving no credit to the originator). I think I might claim that it went viral. Over 1,704 Shares and 88 Likes.I also had strangers wanting to become my friend. I am big in Ohio now.

The end of the week brought a wedding – Catherine, my wife’s sister. As we were getting dressed up at my daughter and partner’s flat in West Didsbury I did ask the partners of my daughters why the fact Catherine was not getting married in a church held one main benefit? The received answers were to do with religion. No, I replied. The absence of a collection boys! What was also illuminating was their inability to tie a knot with their neckties properly. Seldom do they dress formally and so this was a challenge for them. Kids of today, eh? Mr Helpful was on hand however.

The ceremony took place in a theatre in Stockport and was a brilliant setting for the marriage, the wedding breakfast and a concert later by Jeff and his band, Catherine’s husband. Even little touches like providing a Laurel & Hardy and Bugs Bunny interlude for the guests in the theatre whilst the bride and groom were carted off by the photographer for endless snaps was delightful. By any standards then Catherine, above anyone I know, deserved a lovely day and a future happy life. One of her sons, Edward, stood up during the toasts and summarised this in such a magnificent way that we all had a tear in our eye by the time he had finished. A wonderful day.

Lastly, as a man who can appreciate a bit of furniture then I am blown away by what Luke Bussell has knocked up. He’s the son of some friends and this Imperial College Engineering under graduate made this kitchen unit for the children of a next door neighbour. Using softwood, not least so it isn’t terribly heavy to move, and then fashioning knobs and taps out of other types of hard wood he produced this in a workshop in his parent’s garage using wood working machinery. He had no drawings and just checked it out on Google and then proceeded accordingly. He’s likely to find a career in California working on electronics after graduation. A real talent.

September 5, 2017

I was enchanted by a story about my daughter at York Races during August. One of her friends was betting fairly blindly on various races and was taken with a pony called ‘Neigh Neigh’. In fairness we can be sure that having this name ticked one box and it was indeed a horse. Like all Millennials then making an appearance at a bookie is so “2005″ and so clicking their Apps a bet was placed on said nag to win.

The race was run and ‘Neigh Neigh’ didn’t make an appearance on the winners’ board. There was much disappointment but neither did he appear amongst any of the runners? In fact she’d bet on a race at Newmarket! ‘Neigh Neigh’ won!

Slightly younger then I felt for a poor teenager who was standing in a queue at Starbucks. He was brandishing a £50 note. Such is the rarity of sightings for such a note that I can remember when I last had one. It immediately seemed that this kid was unusual. As some of his friends drifted past him and out of the shop speaking German to him then it became clear he was a tourist. I can imagine his mother coming back from the Bureau de Change with his spending money thinking that a £50 note was fine. Needless to say he was bounced at the counter when the barista informed him that they didn’t accept such notes! Vorsprung Durch Tecnik.

In talking with my Favourite Eldest Daughter I enquired as to how she was spending the Saturday. She was doing ‘life admin’. Wtf? I was told that this again was Millennial speak for paying the window cleaner, buying a travel season ticket and no doubt speaking to your father.

On the weekend I was ‘down with the kids’ at the adidas sale at their warehouse in Stockport. The company clears out lots of stock periodically and employees can attend with two guests. I qualified as a father with the Favourite Youngest and discovered that I was at least 25 years older than all the other shoppers. You can see in the image below some of my booty. If I told you what this cost then you’d be suspecting theft! Tiger feet?

As you might expect then my vast disposable income will attract luxury brand manufacturers to approach me. To this end Porsche Cars Of Great Britain have invited me to an exclusive preview evening. I won’t go but if I was wavering about whether to attend then the letter made up my mind – ‘It is made for those who have the courage to forge their own path.’ Grant me strength.

Young Ted, son of my nephew, was over in York on Monday and due to Anna having to unavoidably be away, for a couple of hours, I got a shift. So we went to see the nice man to repair my iPhone 6 and then to the playground. Ted, 4, keeps a good chat going, only occasionally pausing for breath. I was soldiering on trying to deal with various observations and questions:

“Oh look there’s a JCB, they go on motorways”

“Well not really they are too big and slow”

“No, I’ve seen them on the motorway”

“Err.. well there might have been one on the back of a lorry”

“No, roadworks”

Lastly, sometimes people admit to ‘guilty pleasures’. These are things that are naff or out of character as to their regular tastes but somehow fit. ‘Cruising with Jane McDonald’ on Channel 5 is such an admission. Common as muck (and she doesn’t care), endlessly engaging and often hilarious. I usually want to sail on every ship she’s on or go to anywhere she visits.

August 1, 2017

Firstly, ‘Wife Report’ – it may not come as a surprise to learn that I have been promoting the idea of the present Mrs Ives getting a job to more usefully occupy her time. I was pulled to one side last week to have critical advice imparted to me by my bride. I was overfilling the kettle and as a consequence boiling water that I didn’t immediately need. This apparently has implications for our monthly electricity bill. I feel that such wisdom must be sorely needed elsewhere as I certainly have had my fill (geddit?)

Other pearls of wisdom from the opposite sex were given at Tesco. At the self check out I had in some way caused the till to seize and advice was given by the bloody machine to ‘call for assistance’. At this point I did express, loudly, some displeasure. A matronly figure sashayed toward me with a bright “Good morning’ resplendent in her Tesco uniform. Sensing my irritation at the inanimate object causing me distress she opined ‘its because of the biscuits in your bag’. I was grateful for her diagnosis and replied “I bet you say that to all the boys’.

The Favourite Youngest parted company with her first car (Twiga) this week although it put up a fight to stay! Sophie has been promoted and is now slumming it in a company BMW. I was detailed to sell the Peugeot 107 and we had an interesting week. AutoTrader chucked up two traders who pretended to be buying it for their family. Despite an asking price of £2,250 one said £1,700 was their offer.

As the week passed and no one contacted us I took it to a small independent dealer in York. He hummed and harr-ed and then returned to tell me all the things wrong with the car and, through sucked teeth, generously offered £1,500. Sex and travel came to mind as I exited the showroom.

We reduced the price to £2,100 and continued to pray for calls. One of the earlier dealers rang again to offer £1,750 but there was hope in sight when a young lad rang saying he’d bring his dad for a spin and he only lived 15 miles away.

They duly turned up and had a drive in biblical rain and offered £1,800. They seemed quite firm but before we could start haggling Sophie, home for the weekend, took a firm stance on £1,950 and ‘hope’ turned on it heels saying they had another car to look at and they’d let us know.

Next day a text arrived saying that they had found another car. Glum with this news I contacted Evans Halshaw and asked if they were interested. We got an email saying they would at a price of £1,886 subject to inspection and a drive. The car was presented and we expected the usual catalogue of reasons to reduce the price but hopefully something interesting would ensue. To her undisguised delight (she should never play poker for money as her face was a picture of joy) they offered £1,890. She accepted and Twiga was gone.

Lastly the photo below is magic and truly is the wisdom of… some women.

July 23, 2017

If you can appreciate the pressure that Chris Froome is under on his bicycle, in the most difficult bike race in the world, then it humbled me to see him interviewed after a Stage. He must have been weary, he’d been attacked by hostile competitors for 5 hours and then had to help some insistent journalist get a story; he’s class personified. His fourth Tour victory has been well earned not least when those classy French spectators boo’ed him in Marseilles in the stadium during the TT. He’s ‘badged’ as a Brit but really he’s a Kenyan. We’re lucky to have him on loan.

Food Banks are a sad phenomena but it would be even sadder without them if people need them. I fail to read the Tesco notice advising what not to donate as well as what they want and tip toe up to the box hoping I have it right. It did make me smile that these recipients maybe don’t have too many demands but are sadly getting healthier despite no ambition. No one puts anything in the box that isn’t nutritious, sensible or worthy! Even I selected the pineapple fruit chunks in juice rather than syrup!

Last weekend saw a trip to Trent Bridge, Nottingham for a day of cricket. The weather forecast had advised on the morning of the day we were attending that there would be heavy rain at 11am through until 1pm. So we set off later to avoid sitting in it with no cricket being played. You’ll possibly not be surprised to learn that not a ball was lost through rain and we missed four South African and two English wickets! Unfortunately there were a lot more English wickets during the rest of the day and rain would have been welcome to delay our heavy defeat.

On the horizon is one of my rare trips to the cinema. Dunkirk portrays the events of June 1940 when, over several days, nearly 340,000 men were evacuated off the French coast in 800 boats of various shapes, sizes and seaworthiness. It was not a victory but spawned ‘Dunkirk spirit’ as a phrase and summarised what many of us would hope shows the resolve and adventure of the British spirit in the face of murderous adversity. In times of continuing tragedy then we receive these events, on the surface at least, with outrage, exaggeration, bewilderment, needing a political party, organisation or person to blame and often analysis that borders on virtue signalling or smug cynicism. Imagine in 2017 approaching pleasure craft owners i.e. civilians, often in their retirement, and asking them to sail 20 miles over open sea with the scant cover from the RAF and Royal Navy whilst calamitous hell rains off the French coast from German artillery and the Luftwaffe. You do this for no money, compensation and maybe the risk of losing your life and boat. Remarkable.

Today, as the boats sailed, we’d have journalists investigating the appalling circumstances that led to the need for this activity, the absence of any British plan to cope with the humiliating retreat, the British absence of an evacuation plan, the absence of a health and safety assessment, the absence of a plan of what to do immediately with 340,000 returning soldiers. At the same time as social media explodes with hate and anguish then we’d  probably have something like a Court Injunction to stop any movement until we have further actions or information clarified and agreed. Delightfully on prime time as the TV and radio channels fight for audience share we’d have interviews with Nazi experts agreeing with the enormity of the project and probably an ensuing debate on whether surrender would be the better option.

I don’t want to brush all our current tribulations under the carpet but when you put much of today’s challenges against history then are we who we think we are?

Lastly, there was a little merriment as my sister was selected by her grandson to read him a bedtime story. The pleasure was that we were not selected. Less merriment was had when said grandson appeared downstairs without his grandmother. He had survived the bedtime story but she hadn’t and was now nicely in the Land of Nod!

June 23, 2017

One of the joys of being married to the opposite sex is the never ending review of your ‘plans for the day’. As most retired blokes know then apart from tasks that are weather related – scarifying the lawn, washing the car etc. then there are, blissfully, seldom any ‘plans’. Stuff just crops up and gets done.

This morning my wife enquired as to ‘what are you doing today?’ but expedited matters by running through my usual options – a bike ride was had yesterday, continuing to clear a moss and weed strewn path was unlikely due to a back strain and so all that was left was another activity that she particularly admires – my swearing uncontrollably at my rapidly slowing iMac.

She hasn’t realised that the pleasure in this latter activity is that it doesn’t answer back…

Negotiating something when you are not heavily concerned about the outcome is a luxury but a burden for those who are involved, inexperienced and do care. My youngest daughter and boyfriend have been buying a flat and as we are also putting some money in then they have had to suffer me having a view on the property and haggle.

They are acquiring a flat in Didsbury from a vendor who has refurbished and extended a large old house into eleven flats. The property has been shoddily restored and the vendor has ordinarily sold flats to very keen young people who are ‘hot to trot’ with the transaction and will respond to deadline threats despite issues to do with quality, installation and assurances. That just winds me up; in clarifying the detail and snagging has therefore been protracted against a backdrop of deadlines.

We’ve had a right to ask questions. Sophie and Harry have performed well if not a little stressed by our involvement. The exchange of contracts and deposit will take place against some minor brinkmanship. For me it is an insight into some cowboy and high-handed actions by the vendor. A sign of the times, I think.

After my absorption and delight at Breaking Bad I had to dabble with the spin off – Better Call Saul. What a fabulous box set and a superb script and amazing acting. Saul (Bob Odenkirk) is sublime. It’s been a joy and I have two Seasons to go.

So two brief holidays are in the offing, one with the love of my life… Samantha. She’s booked onto the Hull to Zeebrugge ferry and we depart in early July. Hopefully it will be dryer than last year when a canoe would have been more comfortable to navigate through Northern France in torrential rain. One epic morning last June saw Sophie and myself driving through flooded roads near Lille whilst the condensation was so great in the car that we had to stop!

Before that I’m off on a brief cycling tour up the Pennine Cycleway Route with an old pal. Three nights exploring our Industrial revolution heritage and the odd pint of bitter. Stay tuned.

May 24, 2017

Surprising what you learn at Costa Coffee. I was stood in the queue with a rat trap, when the Barista (or the bloke behind the counter who made coffee but had a fancy title dreamt up by a Marketing agency) commented on my purchase. Much to our distress we have had Roland running around the garden for sometime and he’s quite a size. The Barista wasn’t hostile to my death mission but did comment that he kept them as pets. Deciding that he was mad I limited our exchange but did enquire, on my exit, as to whether his neighbours knew about his hobby?

After an uncertain period then we appeared to have let our vacant house. As always we have now refurbished and cleaned it up such that it seems a shame to hand it across to tenants. The market has been slow due to various excuses from the Letting Agent. Explanations include – seasonal drop off, General Election and the considerable building of purpose built student accommodation in York, which has proverbially drained the swamp! Anyway they are not in yet but fingers crossed there are no hitches.

As I’ve reported then after a further DVT I’m on a pill a day to prevent a re-occurrence. It doesn’t seem to be a problem other than remembering to take it. However, when I replenish my stock then I am still a little amazed that I get them for free as I am over 60. I note that the Conservatives are clawing back some benefits from the wealthy if they get re-elected. As the ‘baby boomer’ generation that has pensions, high value property and, sometimes, savings it seems a nonsense that the younger less well off should subsidise them. Thank you for the free pills but really you shouldn’

By any standards then 70,000 miles is a long way to ride a bicycle. This week I clocked up this total. As I am male then I have recorded just about all my bike rides and so when this milestone came around even I was amazed. For those who look too closely at the details then yes I have got slower (!) over the years but also the mileage is accumulated on a variety of bicycles and the slowest times (mph not kph!) include hauling heavy loads on a rugged steel bike up the Pyrenees, Alps, Rockies or the Sierra Nevada.

Lastly the events of the week in terms of atrocity must have floored everyone. I don’t think you could have received the news without becoming tearful. Slaughtering innocent people has now reached 8 year olds. Beyond belief. Everyone was interested in the details and the news channels went into overdrive. A lot of people in Manchester were literally overcome by the severity and affront of it all. I am proud of my hometown and I can well understand their reaction. However the only thing people can do about it, it seems, is hold a vigil, provide support and comfort to those affected or helping and, lastly, call for unity. This last thing is vague but I imagine is about not allowing racism to take hold. They’re right.

Never once did I really hear a thoughtful analysis on disaffected youth who feel outsiders in their society through the colour of their skin or religion, the divisive arbitrary drawing of borders between countries in the Middle East by the colonial powers in the 20th century, the hopeless and nothing short of murderous regimes run in Middle Eastern countries by Saddam Hussein, Bashar la-Assad, Colonel Gaddafi and then, the icing on the cake, the intervention of Western countries militarily in the Middle East. On this last point then Britain with the French bombed Libya to a ruinous state and now it is a disaster with no ruling party or system to control. However it is rife for pouring out more grief toward Europe. Even Obama censured Cameron for this failed intervention.

The above being said then no one has a right to commit murder and if they do then they should expect justice in whatever form it takes. The security services are brilliant and unsung, I’m grateful for their professionalism and overall success. Even at the risk of curtailing civil liberties then we need to have more controls and monitoring of those who might kill us.

…at the moment, let’s hope the tea lights work.

May 18, 2017

As week’s go then this one has not been the best.

I’m not very anxious about signs of my own mortality. It’s along the road but it seems to be out of sight at the moment. However for one good friend it came dramatically into sight before he got too close to 60. Such is my mental process that after I received a text from Marion I immediately thought of ‘First Of The Gang To Die’ by Morrissey, not least because Jason Field was.

I met Jason when he became a resident in a house I shared in Billericay in the late 70’s/early ’80’s. He was a young undergraduate engineer on a placement with Ford Truck. The rest of us in the house, Paul, Peter and Tim, worked at Ford, whether Tractor, Cars or Trucks.

It was stupid lads together who either balanced buckets of water on top of doors, invited the most vulnerable to a complimentary sandwich saying it was chicken but enjoyed their reaction when we told them it actually was frog leg meat, let off horrendously loud boat fog klaxons at 3 am next to someone’s bedroom and not least enjoyed rolling up to the pub for continued ribbing.

Jason at work was a star and a hoot out of it. A confident, opinionated and slightly know it all from Newton Aycliffe. More fun continued when he borrowed his dad’s Morris Marina Estate and, with Neil, we drove to Austria for the Grand Prix – many memorable moments not least him carrying out some engine servicing at a campsite that eventually necessitated getting the equivalent of the RAC to visit to swap around the plug leads that stopped the engine firing!

Clearly from this photograph we must have been invited to a fancy dress party back in the day – I recognise my old school cricket pullover, if not the bearded lad in tinted glasses with masses of hair..

We all left the house and moved on. Jason finished his degree at Manchester University and not least caught the eye of his bride by turning up at the Hall of Residence bar in bedroom slippers. (At my age this seems logical but at 20 years old or so then I can see the fashion crime). He returned to Ford and moved up through the grades that we had all originally coveted. On his stellar rise he ran a night shift at Halewood, ran the White Body Plant at Jaguar, looked after the manufacture of radiators at Dagenham and ended up in the Czech Republic joint running a Plant that made air conditioning and light components for just about most major car manufacturers in Europe.

We’d kept in touch albeit loosely, as blokes do, and met up over the years. In 2009 I cycled with a another pal, Jim, to his house in Kunin, just over the Czech border, from Krakow in Poland (via Auschwitz). There we were treated royally by Marion and Jason before trundling back. He was now in his early fifties and thinking that he might retire back to England. The pension seemed good and life was good.

Despite Christmas cards then the communication tailed off. People can be like that I thought. However, in 2014 I received a card from Marion saying that it would be great if maybe I could invite him on Facebook? He was now wheelchair bound with Multiple System Atrophy. This very rare condition leads to a failing of the body whilst the intellect remains in tact. Of course I went to Essex to see him and admired their fortitude and spirit coping with this wickedly random tragedy. Over subsequent visits with Jason, now in care, he was always cheerful but for a man of such energy and capability it all seemed unforgivably cruel to be reduced to such captivity.

I was getting frustrated looking for decaffeinated coffee beans at Tesco (they didn’t have any) when Marion sent a text saying he’d passed. I’m sure when I next visit that aisle I will have a terribly heavy feeling.

We’d tried to visit in February but he’d been rushed to A & E, it was not uncommon for him to have episodes that needed hospitalisation, and it was in our plans to try and visit again on May Bank Holiday.

So a part of my life has gone but frankly my loss is incomparable to a widow’s. As they say seize the day and look after yourself.

May 4, 2017

I recently heard a story that a friend of a friend had a kitchen installed. The kitchen installer then sent his final invoice by email. The email was hacked and the invoice altered such that the account and sort code were changed to a Nigerian account. Unsuspecting any problem the recipient of the invoice paid on line to this now altered bank account.

All was quiet until the kitchen company asked where the money was? Eventual investigation revealed that the money had been paid into a ‘new’ account and that the kitchen company had indeed not received its money. I’m not sure where the impasse has got to but you expect that the owner of the kitchen may have to pay twice.

So be cautious in paying direct on line against an invoice received by email. Maybe my chequebook isn’t completely obsolete yet? Isn’t it about time that some form of cyber security initiative controlled Nigerian email? Not only is there this horror story but also we all suffer from junk mail; should you be unlucky enough to click their attachment or links it will expose your computer to fraud. Always check the address of the email sender – on junk mail it is usually some nonsense and not PayPal, a bank or whoever it purports to be from..

The family suspects that it is a toss up whether my being in the company of small children or dogs is preferable. This is very unfair but probably true. However, I am not cruel and when I visit Wales to see my sister then I diligently walk the dog – Blossom (…don’t ask).

I might have been more positive about dogs were it not for the modern etiquette that demands scooping up its droppings wherever it might randomly deposit them. The old days of leaving it anywhere weren’t good – I remember a long bus ride home from central Leeds to my home in the country with smears of it on my leg, this happened when I was nine and may explain a lot! Anyway me and Blossom had a nice long walk and usually she keeps any surplus until she gets back to the house and drops a load on the back lawn: not in line with the reason why she was hauled around but it does avoid inverting the poo bag and gripping the warm, smelly and slimy gift and then carrying it home at arm’s length.

As we cruise country paths surrounded by grass and farm animals then it crossed my mind that should Blossom develop the need then some relocation of the mutt into the long grass might hide the deed and we might proceed quickly from the scene of the crime undetected. So imagine my horror when we returned and got on the street where she lived and she adopted the pose on the verge… oh no! I did contemplate checking all the surrounding windows for surveillance and if the coast was clear then dashing for our front door afterwards, however, the risk of ignominy and future pointing was too great a risk. So thanking the very empty canine from the bottom of my heart I collected the bountiful donation and went home wondering if I could find a plug on Google for next time.

After advice from my physio I joined a gym in order to use specific equipment. I’m not a stranger to physical exercise but gyms are not my scene. The Council run one nearby and as it is chocker full of kit then I signed up. Gaining access when getting to the gym however remains a baffling experience.

At Reception I presented my gym membership card and my York Resident’s card. The Receptionist chirped back “£5.80 please”. No I smirked back, “it is £3.90 as I is am a York resident and an old person entitled to a discount”. Okay she confirmed, “May I see your concession card?”

What! I had already got two new cards to attempt to penetrate the gym did I need a third? After asking where I might get the third card and what it looked like she said it had to show proof of my age on it. Warming to the conversation I enquired as to whether she had my age on the system as I had to go through an induction and form submission initially. Yes, she the system noted my age but I still needed to show proof. Now I’m all for detailed checks if buying a shotgun, accessing large Social Benefit payments, boarding a plane and the like but for an hour wasting myself on a Bosu ball and a Leg Press?. Anyway she relented… on this one occasion, and allowed me entry after I gave her another card… my Debit card to pay the £3.90.