Solitary Musings

The God (p) Article

2011-12-15T03:28:00.000-08:00

From the time of man’s first disobedience humans have been striving to understand, develop and improve their environment and living standards. Even before Jesus walked this earth man had begun to experiment with photography and who could argue that the developments witnessed since the 19^th century have not aided humankind in many areas, perhaps most notably in xray imaging and its digital offshoots.

We now know almost everything we need to know about our universe and computer technology is such that the world of computerised virtual reality is heading towards computerised actual reality where touch and smell are added to programs.

My dear friend David Levy has put forward a powerfully reasoned thesis in his book Love + Sex with Robots where he postulates that humans will soon be having relationships with aesthetically fashioned machines cutting out all the baggage that goes with human interactions. Again, who could argue that within this world which is biased towards the ‘cool’ and beautiful, a large proportion of us wouldn't opt for unconditional love. Would a machine that could actually talk our language be any less beguiling than a pet animal?

The latest development to excite the world of science as a direct result of photography is the possibility of the Higgs boson hypothesis becoming proven. The so-called ‘God Particle’, which is perhaps aptly named as man seeks to become all-knowing, is being investigated with the help of the Large Hadron Collider (the world's largest and highest-energy particle accelerator) which lies in a tunnel 27 kilometres (17 miles) in circumference and as deep as 175 metres (574 ft) beneath the Franco-Swiss border near Geneva, Switzerland. The LHC is expected to address some of the most fundamental questions of physics, advancing the understanding of the deepest laws of nature. The possibilities are endless.

As a Christian I am wary. In Genesis: 11 the Bible tells us of man’s self-indulgence and arrogance in deciding to build a tower up to Heaven. God in His infinite wisdom, knew this "stairway to heaven" would only lead the people away from Him. He noted the powerful force within their unity of purpose. As a result, He confused their language, causing them to speak in different tongues so they could not understand each other. By doing this, God thwarted their plans. He also scattered the people of the city all over the face of the earth.

To me there is a fine line between using technology to alleviate misery and suffering within the wonderful gift of freewill granted us, and using technology to interfere with nature and all its beauty. We often gauge the price we are paying for some of our advancements in terms of carbon footprinting but hardly ever consider the deeper aspects of our meddling. We as humans have a very cavalier approach to science and some academic institutes are undoubtedly only concerned in making a name for themselves; and its individuals in winning laureates.

In the wide spectrum of life, taking all things into consideration, are any of these technological advancements a boon to society? It is not for me to comment. The question is a complex one and the answer almost unfathomable. As we prolong our lives quite artificially, and increasingly against the previously accepted ‘laws’ of nature, can we honestly say this is a good thing? After all, one of the promises that God made to us is that we would have eternal life if we kept the faith. This has always been one of the most appealing aspects of Christianity, however the life we are promised is one that is so good that it is unimaginable to us, especially from the viewpoint we have as lucid individuals.

We cannot replicate God’s promise. The economic laws we learn at a rudimentary level tell us that sometimes we have to be thrifty in order to safeguard our future. You might know the story of Joseph and how he budgeted for the seven years of famine and built up stocks so the effect was neglible in Egypt. This is the classic model of prevention of boom and bust that the world is experiencing so painfully right now. When we defy these laws of nature we pay a price that cannot always be quantified. Let’s be honest, it is doom and gloom wherever you go nowadays. Eastenders is almost light relief these days!

I am of course being facetious but all I am trying to say is that to my mind there are far better ways to use our scant resources than on the LHC in search of the God Particle.

If the world’s monetary resources were spread more evenly then there would be more joy in the world. Humans would still strive to better themselves in order to better others. Sloth would be prevented by a new ethos of love and understanding of others.

We have all experienced momentary selflessness whether it be a charitable donation, unconditional love of a child or unpremeditated heroic gesture. When this becomes the accepted norm instead of a situation where we elevate perpetrators then we know that we are moving in the right direction.

As human beings immersed in original sin we can only reach this idyllic state with God's help. All those people who say "I am a good person and do not sin" think about those nasty thoughts they experienced the next time someone cuts them up in their car. Think about the time they lost their temper last, perhaps irrationally. Think about the time they did not give their brother or sister the benefit of the doubt and chose to be indifferent.

We all sin and our sin becomes acceptable to us over time unless we are reigned in like children.

God is our father, we the naughty children that need growing up. Many of us never grow up.

Quack Quack!

2011-12-05T11:19:00.000-08:00

I attended an appointment today with an orthopaedic surgeon who turned out to be the most rude, egotistical and insensitive man I have ever had the misfortune to meet.

I had such high hopes when I realised the man’s name was Ricketts, as I thought it would give me the opportunity to break the ice by making the obvious joke about him having a very apt name, given his job.

As I was led away to his hired room within Nuffield Hospital (which peculiarly is not situated in Nuffield but in far distant Haywards Heath) it immediately became clear that I was not going to be given the chance to speak freely as this man had obviously developed a glib patter and modus operandum of talking at patients rather than to them.

Mr Ricketts began by bleating on in a very accusatory manner about the sheer volume of paperwork revolving around my accident, as if I had generated it in some way!

I was already feeling quite unwell from the long journey; the furthest I had driven since being knocked off my bike in August, and Mr Ricketts was making me feel a lot worse as it dawned on me that I was not there for a second opinion on my floating collarbone but was in fact there to be cross-examined by him as to the nature of my injuries.

He started off by asking me what I do for a living and once I told him I was a writer he asked me to look him up on the Internet as he had written 268 articles for medical journals and the like. I had made a mental note at this time that I would not let him anywhere near me with a knife in his hand!

He next asked me about my cycling and in particular whether I was wearing a helmet. When I responded "no" he tutted and began to give me a lecture on the merits of wearing a helmet.

I then explained that I was not wearing a helmet because I was riding the mile route off-road and the only on-road part of the journey was where I actually got knocked off turning right to go to the hospital.

I felt compelled to explain further that it was one of the few times I had ever ridden without a helmet although I did have a fluorescent yellow head protector on which does the job very well and indeed obviously did a great job in this instance. I had in fact found it very difficult to come to terms with the fact that apart from a perforated ear and a few bumps and bruises I had no head injuries and I certainly did not need a lecture on safe riding (something I pride myself on) from a total stranger.

By now I felt chastened and a little angry although tried hard not to show it. Mr Ricketts then began to tell me some story of his cycling buddies to which I replied I was in fact a Crawley Wheeler. He then said "you must know Dougie Fox" and went on to say that he operates on all the cyclists in the club. I told him Doug was a friend of mine but I did not in fact know that he had operated on him or anyone else in my club as everyone to a man who I had spoken to with shoulder injuries since my accident were operated on by a Mr Maurice from East Surrey Hospital. This possibly didn't go down too well with Mr Ricketts but I was merely being honest and engaging in the small talk he seemed to want to persist with.

Already Mr Ricketts had flung himself back in his chair in a fit of pique on two occasions as he did not like my replies to his questions. I could see he was becoming agitated and he was making me feel very uncomfortable with his constant "you must take that up with your solicitor" anytime I asked him a question such as "what is the reason I am here today?"

Finally, he asked me on a scale of 1 to 10, one being the lowest and 10 being the highest, how painful was my shoulder. I began to reply that at the scene of the crime I was asked that question by the paramedic and although in excruciating pain I replied, 7, so I would have to compare my pain with that score.........As I got that far he then interjected "I'm sorry I don't think there is anything I can do for you" as he rose from his chair shook my hand and summarily dismissed me.

I did complain to the sister on exit who told me of her surprise at the decision to curtail the session as no voices were raised but she went on also to explain that Mr Ricketts merely hires a room at the hospital/clinic and the hospital/clinic bears no responsibility for his actions.

I’m still a little perplexed at what actually went on and indeed why I had to travel all the way to Haywards Heath midway through my ongoing treatment. I have no idea if this man was working for me or against me, or indeed where he is tied into my treatment, although I suspect all he was interested in was perpetuating the paper work as part of my claim rather than having my wellbeing paramount in his mind.

And that is the crux of the matter. I am obviously not happy with an arm I can do little with at present and my current consultant is reluctant to operate on. I had asked the solicitor acting on my behalf if I could have a second opinion and rather hoped that Mr Ricketts was going to be that opinion. It does not sit well with me that only the claim matters at this stage.

If this man was hired to make an independent assessment, surely that means an examination. Everything else is documented and I shouldn’t be bothered with answering questions as to the merits of wearing a helmet or medical proof which is not for me to comment on.

I couldn’t care less about the claim inasmuch as no amount of money could ever compensate me for the loss of the love of my life – cycling. Did this man who boasted to me of all his ‘cycling friends’ not consider this?. I am absolutely lost at the moment. I had a cardiac ablation to enable me to cycle freely without fear of having to stop during club rides and races and now I know it was all in vain as I cannot ride on the roads again anyway.

At least the very considerate sister understood my plight and suggested counselling.

I know from my own family experience that nurses certainly have better bedside manners than doctors!

My day in court

2011-11-30T14:45:00.000-08:00

Today I attended Horsham Magistrate’s Court for contravening a red traffic light and it was a very emotional and costly experience.

Of course I knew I didn’t stand a chance of having my plea of innocence upheld as the integrity of the Gatso Cameras have to be maintained by the magistrates - and I certainly couldn’t prove the camera was faulty.

As it happened the numerous hours I had spent compiling four DVDs of the troublesome traffic lights meant precious little as the court did not bother to look at them as the legal expert did not feel it would prove the camera was not working properly – my only real defence.

On the 4th May I was driving through Three Bridges at 1.52pm and passed through an amber light on one of those systems with another set of complimentary lights on the other side of the junction. Unfortunately as I passed through the first set the complimentary set then changed to red so I was stuck in the middle of a busy junction and had to drive on through that red light.

I was served a summons two weeks later although didn’t understand initially that I was being accused of driving through the first light three seconds after it had become red.

I remember very well going through the first light on amber and I remember very well it changing to red a car’s length after I passed it as I could plainly see the complimentary set change before my eyes.

On filming the lights I noticed that four seconds after these lights went red traffic invariably came out of the junction road (St Mary’s Drive) but in my case there was not another car to be seen on the junction. This doesn’t of course prove I am innocent but the second picture they sent me had me in the middle of the junction four seconds after the light had changed to red so the clues are there that something was not normal.

Apart from the fact that you would have to be stupid to go through a red light on a very busy road junction three seconds after it was red my memory of the incident is very clear and unequivocal. Of course it is possible that I had an aberration of some sort, after all a member of my family once accused me of swearing at them and yet my recollection was that I couldn’t have done as I simply don’t swear and never have. As the years have gone by I have often questioned the truth of the incident and this episode has brought it to the fore once again.

I can assure you that if I were wrong about the traffic light it would not be a question of me lying to save some money, God forbid I would have saved in the region of £500 by not going to court on a fool’s errand. No, as a Christian I would never lie under oath, and in fact I found myself being so truthful that when asked whether I had seen the flash of the camera I replied “No, but then again when I got caught three times on the same day on a speed camera outside my home in 2001, I did not see any of the flashes then either”.

I think the magistrates believed I was earnest, if not deluded, but the truth is can our memories of things be trusted. My memory is very good and yet I am the most absent-minded person on earth so is it possible that my memory of the incident was built after the fact and I did indeed travel through a set of lights on red totally oblivious to what I was doing.?

The truth is otherwise in my mind. It was a vivid memory at the time and when I parked my car two minutes later in Pound Hill I thought about the incident and I remember hoping that I made the light without penalty as I was acutely aware that it was a close shave.

No, I feel one hundred per cent certain the events happened exactly as I remember and yet how could my car be in a picture that shows a digital representation of the camera information depicting ‘03’ meaning I had crossed the light three seconds after it became red!!

Answers please on a postcard to confused of Bewbush

We are Family!

2011-11-08T13:43:00.000-08:00

Lately I have felt like I have entered a world somewhere between The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits and I have just been waiting for normal service to be resumed as soon as possible.

This year has been surreal ; awful in many respects.

The past few months have given me time for reflection and there has been a lot to reflect on as I seem not to be coping with my ‘accident’ as well as I thought I was.

Perhaps it is the niggling pains, the thought of being indisposed for months, the sleeplessness or just the sense of loss at feeling unable to ever again take part in my long-time sport of cycle racing – who knows?

I have some fantastic friends and I know it is a cliché but without them I don’t know how I would have coped at all. I have been up and down, feeling I’m going to die one moment and then feeling strong the next. When I’m in a car I find myself terrified of traffic and any threat or fear, however slight, is causing my body to flood with adrenalin, causing breathlessness and dizziness. One Friday evening recently, a short walk to the end of the road turned into a fight for survival as my heart began to thud out of control forcing me to drop to my knees tearing clumps of grass in confusion. I understand now how my dear sister was terrified of traffic after being involved in a serious car accident in August 1966.

I have felt such a wuss of late and at one point my closest friend actually begged me to ‘man up’. I believe these episodes are panic attacks and can be brought on by the anxiety of chronic illness. It still doesn’t sit well with me though as I feel my faith should be enough to prevent any feelings of anxiety. One of my favourite biblical passages is in Matthew 6 where we are told that we cannot add a single hour to our lives by worrying. It is evidently true and yet in moments of crisis we let ourselves fall into the devil’s trap of self awareness and pity. One of the injuries I sustained in August was a hole in my left ear. This has caused me to develop a constant high-pitched noise which I tend to negate by leaving the television on at night to give myself some background noise. I turn the TV off at some point during the night and immediately become aware of the noise and what I began to do was to believe it was all doom and gloom instead of thinking it was just a temporary blip that will pass – all things inevitably do. I have now put all negative thoughts out of my mind since I’ve been back to church and able to read my bible again.

As I say, my friends have been great. I’ve been overwhelmed with lifts and gifts, including my erstwhile bête noire of an Amazon Kindle. God forbid, these infernal machines, that have been responsible for seriously depleting my hard copy sale, are actually quite useful when one only has one good hand.

As always when I suffer stress or grief my mind turns to family. Who actually are my family?

I have five siblings who for one reason or another are estranged to me. I have never really come to terms with it, as unrequited love is never pleasant and within a family circle it is confusing and frustrating and creates great sadness. I know I am to blame for much of it although I don’t really see it as a blame issue at all. We had a quite unusual upbringing and amid our laughter and joy was some sadness. This sadness was rarely spoken about but in our own individual minds I know it was there. We became islands and did not let each other in too much for the simple reason we knew of each other’s trials and tribulations and our way of dealing with it all was to escape into our own worlds.

I have however found great relief within the scriptures.

Jesus teaches us that family is our Christian fellowship group - with God at the head of the family.

I know I have had lots of people praying for me lately and this has given me enormous strength.

My own faith too, although peppered with moments of self-indulgence and anger at why I should be in this present predicament, has also fortified my vulnerable natural state. I can make some sense of it all above the randomness of earthly misfortunes, in fact it is the Christian way to look within ourselves at times of crises and to put our houses in order if needs be. Sometimes we reason that God has been trying to tell us something and we have refused to listen. Please don’t misunderstand that I am suggesting that God punishes us for being stubborn although in my darkest moments I’d be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind. No, my natural self tells me that I am so flawed and insignificant that God would never be bothered with the likes of me, but my Christian beliefs help me understand that we are all significant to God so some rationalisation is required.

In my case my life does need tweaking. I have lived selfishly as a sportsman for so many years and even through illness and injury and a doctor’s warning not to cycle any more I have persevered. Sometimes I wonder if it defines me as a person. I gave up quizzing partly because I felt the time allocation was too great and yet I spend hours down the gym and hours more out on my bike.

I have also struggled with gambling and celibacy over the years, the former I used to accommodate by promising God I would never gamble during the forty days of Lent and the latter I would reason was a natural inclination to share one’s life in holy matrimony.

So who do I consider to be my family?

Of course my blood ties are unbreakable and I live in hope of reconciliation. I actually knocked on the door of my dear brother Gary only the other day and although I prayed beforehand that I might say the right things unfortunately he wasn’t at home so I didn’t get the chance to say anything at all. I think he knows I love him though so all is well.

Can people you don’t see be family?

Yes they can. Jesus teaches us that our family are all those people that share the same vision, the same hope and the same faith. When His mother and brothers came to visit Him once He made a point of remarking, while pointing to all His followers, that these are my family. My closest Christian friend is as much family as any of my blood relatives but also all those Christians I might not know the name of are equally considered to be family.

Don’t we all feel supportive of fellow members of clubs and societies?

I pray that my blood relatives are Christian or at least will one day be so. Quite often the state of Christianity is a mere timing difference!

Not a Racism issue - Just best practice

2011-09-21T11:01:00.000-07:00

So IVF pioneer Lord Winston has had to issue a public statement that he is not racist after stating that poor communication skills of some foreign nurses are putting patients in danger! I ask you! – this is the man who has proven his humanitarian qualities repeatedly.

My last night in hospital was a sleepless one. I was in pain and suffering heart flutters after a cardiac ablation. I was restless and very irritable and had so many tubes and wires sticking out of me I could not even get up for the toilet. The night nurse constantly monitored me and had told me the evening before that my blood required testing at 4am for some unknown reason and that my warfarin drip needed taking out by 6. None of this was conducive to a good night’s sleep but the real problem I experienced as I lay awake playing hangman on the TV consul all night was a simple one – The night nurse did not speak English!

Now it may seem inconsequential to you reading this but I can tell you that at the time I felt so lonely so desperately ill and lonely that I would have killed to have an English-speaking nurse pop their head around the curtain so I could express my feelings and possibly be reassured or even just exchange pleasantries.

In my case by the morning I was in a complete state of exhaustion and bewilderment.

My friend came up at 7am to take me home as the surgeon had told me the day before and I was by now desperate to get home to my own bed because of the night of despair.

Unfortunately I was not signed off until 5pm and had a very hairy day suffering panic attacks and all manner of anxiety, possibly as a result of sleep deprivation. Things have not really calmed down too much since due to the hospital not co-ordinating my operations correctly so I am now left with a badly fractured collarbone that cannot be operated on for three months.

All I know is that if I had found someone to talk to when returning from theatre so I could have felt assured that all was well then I would have swanned through the mental trauma I was already experiencing due to my cycle accident.

So I agree with Robert Winston – and I too am not racist

How life has changed since last blog

2011-09-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

I do not want to over-dramatise things by saying this has been the worst month of my life as it would be an insult to the memory of my dear mother and my beloved nephew Jason and niece Tammy.

However it has been an absolutely horrendous year so far health-wise and my cycling career has had to be ended prematurely by the post-traumatic stress caused by a recent ‘accident’.

I was cycling to Crawley Hospital on the morning of 11 August to have a heart rate monitor fitted to record the Supra Ventricular Tachycardia I was diagnosed with a while back with a view to ablation.

I almost made it but was hit from behind on the dual carriageway near the hospital and suffered multiple fractures, some of which were displaced - so annoyingly painful and tricky to repair.

The good news is my ablation op was postponed until last Friday 9th September and although they were reluctant to perform the procedure due to doubt about my ability to lie flat on an operating table for several hours with broken bones whilst having catheters inserted into my heart, the magic man, Dr Gandhi, agreed to give it a go.

Dr Gandhi, Tom, Sam and the rest of his team were brilliant. They made me as comfortable as possible before commencing and the whole operation was like a well-oiled machine. They simulated (stimulated in this instance works perfectly as well) my tachycardia by infusing adrenalin into my veins and waited until my SVTs began. Fortunately this worked like a dream and Dr Gandhi found the offending area of my heart in less than an hour and immediately informed me. The team then took down the catheter through the main artery in my groin and replaced it with the ablation wire. It is a strange feeling as you lie there and sense the confidence of the crew although knowing the risks of the operation. I must admit I was forearmed with numerous family and friends praying for me and felt totally confident of a successful outcome, although naturally a little apprehensive of failure.

Ironically, I only plucked up the courage to have the op as I wanted to have one final fling on my bike as I have not done myself justice in recent years due to the onset of what I call ‘palpitations’. Subsequently of course I have decided to sell my bikes and give up cycling as I have been left traumatised by the events of 11 August as I really feel I should not have walked away from such an horrific accident. When the police informed me of the damage to the lady’s car last week it really made me think even more how lucky I was. My bike is apparently almost unmarked and yet her windows were smashed on the side closest to the kerb and her wing mirror was knocked off and smashed and the side panels were scratched and dented. This means I must have absorbed much of the impact myself! Apparently she saw me (well I was wearing bright luminous yellow Asic cycling clothes from top to toe), indicated to overtake me but then found she could not complete the manoeuvre because of traffic in the fast lane and cut back in. All I know is I thought I was a goner and expected to see my brains splattered all over the highway. Shoulder, Collarbone, Hip and Finger injury seems a small price to pay although the collarbone is displaced in four areas and is a work in progress at the moment.

It was an absolute work of art how the cardiac team not only found the area of the heart to zap but also synchronised the timing to ensure the most effective job possible. It took time to co-ordinate but when they finally moved in with all guns blazing their action was swift and sure.

“I’ve got it Trevor” was music to my ears, as Dr Gandhi explained he had burnt that offending piece of my heart (the sinus node) that had caused me so much grief since birth. Yes Dr Gandhi was quick to tell me that I have had the problem since birth (57 years) and now it was gone. All my young years of feeling less than normal as I had to drag myself off cricket pitches or away from playing children. All my teenage years when I gained a reputation of either winning races or dropping out. All my recent years when I have held up my cycling team as I lay prone on the ground desperately trying to shock my heart into its regular rhythm.
All those times that blighted my life in secret denial of being different from others - now gone - hopefully forever.

I felt euphoric of course and I can vouch that the team seemed equally pleased that it all came together so well.

I have to admit the next 24 hours were a little grim as I found it impossible to sleep in the hospital bed as my heart was thumping all night and by the morning I was in a right state and repeatedly had to walk out of the hospital as anxiety took over. Fortunately the friend who picked me up from the Royal Sussex the next day was given a paper “what to expect post-op” and also the registrar came down to the ward to explain to me that it was perfectly normal for the thudding beats to get worse than ever for up to three months before the new rhythm settles. This was music to my ears and made me feel much better about my predicament – and even as I write this blog the sainted Dr Gandhi has just telephoned me to enquire as to my health and implored me to take it easy as he knows I am a very active man. Fortunately I have no choice anyway until my bones heal.

It is truly an awe-inspiring feeling to have had a problem that at various times in my life had impinged on my enjoyment to the point that I had to give up my schools running career and then my cycling career earlier this year – and now it is more than likely to have gone. It actually seems too good to be true which is why the mind plays these tricks and you actually find yourself doing all the stressful things that induced the SVTs in the first place, only now it is impossible for them to occur.

I’ve sometimes, very unfairly, been called a genius when in fact I have no skills at all to mention, but a man like Dr Gandhi has a skill honed and perfected across 14 years – a skill that literally can change the quality of life of a poor undeserving wretch such as myself – this is genius.

Even the month of pain and agony I have suffered pales into insignificance today as I lay on my bed with hope of a brighter future without the inconvenience of having to bear the cross of fear of attack.

To be honest, even if I were to be among those small minority of people who sometimes found their symptoms return (I somehow feel confident I shall not be) I know that the team performed their best and I would come to terms with that horror in the full knowledge that all these things are for a reason.

I felt humbled too today as one of my partners in crime on the cardiac ward is having to have a triple bypass next Tuesday, another has had heart attacks due to post-traumatic stress following a stabbing six years ago, and yet another cannot have a pace-maker fitted as this procedure does not work on the left atrial valve so he is effectively just praying not to have further attacks.

All these men are great men with stories I cannot go into here without their permission but stories none the less that made us all bond and all realise that we are all in this life together for better or for worse. We laughed and joked and generally made light of our predicaments. We knew that some of us would have better outcomes than others. For God’s sake two of these men had already suffered far more than lesser men could stand.

Love is all there is – there is nothing more

London Riots - what's to blame?

2011-08-08T17:02:00.001-07:00

I know that every right-minded individual in this country will feel anger at the wanton destruction of the past few days. Many of those same people will also feel threatened and scared of the possibility of the events escalating into general anarchy.

Perhaps somewhat fewer people will try to analyse and rationalise what has actually occurred. As a Christian I have tried to come to terms with my own thoughts on the subject and I don’t believe this is a recession issue or even a reprisal issue.

We are not talking about massive levels of violence against the person here, although clearly the police have been targeted for the brunt of it. No, we are talking about young people, children in some cases, taking advantage of a situation as young people are prone to do.

I saw on the news a reporter walking through Clapham, bravely admonishing these kids but clearly not in mortal danger from them. He passed by a bunch of giggling girls who tried to block the camera and run away. These girls looked like young teenagers caught up in the typical gang mentality that has existed through the ages whether we glorify it as in the Gordon Riots or Swing Riots of the 18^th and 19^th century or condemn it out of hand as with the 20^th century rampages by mods, rockers, skinheads and hells angels.

It is interesting that the first thing we all do is study the scene and imagine it to be a race problem; after all the touchpaper was lit by the death of a black resident of Tottenham!.

It is easy for us to make assumptions by studying the TV pictures and concluding that many of the looters are black, but truth be known the areas of London affected have predominantly black populations. However, I clearly saw gangs of white youths acting aggressively towards police and also looting. I don’t believe this is a race issue either.

When we are young we are not fully developed emotionally and we are prone to peer pressure, acts of stupidity carried out to impress our friends and general distrust of the establishment. I have no doubt that a large proportion of these looters will be horrified at their deeds in a few years time. I believe this is a youth issue.

So do I believe our Government have acted in the correct manner? To hell no

I believe the riot act should never have been dispensed with in 1973 because if these kids knew the repercussions of their actions could end in serious harm to themselves then they would think twice about answering Twitter appeals and using their BlackBerry devices to seek out areas where there is no police presence.

I also believe that in a time when the country, indeed the world, is in such serious economic strife we cannot afford to absorb the cost which far exceeds the immediate replacement of buildings and although paid for by insurance companies in the main, inevitably adds to the burden of every household.

So I would have called in the army to maintain order on the streets with a brief to ensure no torching of buildings and no looting.

I would have gone further and used water cannons and rubber bullets and ensured a strong armed police presence as well as a strategic military showing.

I abhor violence of any kind but this sits perfectly well with my conscience as although I know young people do silly things (how did I ever make it out of my teens I’ll never know) they do have to be held responsible to some extent and are very able to understand corporal punishment, in fact sometimes it is all they can respond to as part of the growing up experience.

At the end of the day these people are law breakers and are causing worry and anxiety across the nation and do need to be kept in check. I don’t agree with the deputy mayor of London who was calling on local citizens to band together to try and reason with the perpetrators. This is not a case of locals failing to put their heads above the parapet, it is a case of locals being apathetic as they couldn’t care less about the local PC World store – why should they?

If these gangs honed in on residential areas I have no doubt we would have had many deaths on our hands by now, so please don’t misunderstand what I ‘m saying.

We simply cannot have gangs roaming the streets looting in broad daylight as the whole fabric of society will break down, but I do not believe that these people are generally more criminally-minded than the next person, although clearly there is also an element of hardened criminals that would be trying their luck irrespective of riot acts or curfews. This defiant element must be stamped on summarily. Warn them now to cease or be punished further. Warn their parents to keep them off the streets. Those that have been caught on camera must pay the price of their crimes. Those that have been fortunate today must know that tomorrow is not an option for them. The government must act now before the innocent are dragged in as they surely will as communities will only tolerate a certain amount and when local resources are drained tempers will fray.

Today must be the last day.

For God’s sake this human life can be such a struggle at the best of times and if only these youngsters knew that what they are doing will change nothing for the better in their lives or in the lives of society as a whole.

But of course one day they will know

The Tree of Life (watch it and lose the will to live)

2011-07-21T13:17:00.000-07:00

I watched a film last night at Cineworld Crawley. On a Wednesday evening there is a concession for Orange mobile users whereby they can buy a ticket and get one free. This made for long queues not only at the cinema but in the car park and all the surrounding retail food outlets.

This somehow made the anticipation all the more special as the gauntlet of parking, then ticket purchase, and finally food, had to be run.

I paid my £8.60, entered Studio 6 and, after 40 minutes of ads, settled down to watch Tree of Life, the latest movie, starring Brad Pitt and Sean Penn.

Two young lads sitting behind me had been extremely loud throughout the ads but once the opening film certificate appeared on the screen they hushed immediately, as did the rest of the packed auditorium.

Twenty minutes later I found myself enthralled by the ‘Exit’ sign on the emergency door to the right of the screen. I studied the line drawing of the person depicted under the sign and tried to work out where this exit led to.

I then noticed a trickle of people, including the two chatty lads, walking out of the studio. This trickle became a torrent as good-natured laughter filled the air - the laughter stemming not from anything occurring in the film you understand but merely from the ever-increasing amount of people making a beeline for the exit.

In the ultimate irony an usher continually appeared at the entrance to escort out a handful of kids who had infiltrated Studio 6 without paying. If only she had waited a few minutes they surely would have gone of their own volition!

I was asked by a friend afterwards what the film was about and gave a rather glib reply of “it was about 130 minutes” as I couldn’t really explain (or rather I couldn’t be bothered to explain as this would have given the film some level of importance it did not deserve).

All I will say is that Tree of Life is undoubtedly the worst film I have ever seen, worse even than Gomorrah

Are You Scared of Dying?

2011-07-16T04:57:00.001-07:00

I listened to part of the Jeremy Vine Show on Radio 2 yesterday morning and the daily topic was the growing propensity for children to be unhealthily scared of death. Parents were phoning in with tales of their children hiding under bedclothes screaming “I’m going to die”.

So what has caused this phenomenon and is it the modern scourge that it would appear to be?

There are times when each of us becomes aware of our mortality and the natural defence against this is to avert our thoughts almost instantly so although we are left with the realisation of the inevitable we do not dwell on it or let it impinge on our lives.

Sometimes this coping mechanism goes wrong and we are unable to focus on anything other than the circumstances that might lead to our ultimate demise. This usually occurs at night when idle reflective moments turn into deep introspections. I would argue that this is not necessarily a negative thing.

Although I never had this morbid sensation for myself (I was very good at diverting my thoughts and anyway it just seemed too far into the future to worry about logically) I did have an unnatural sadness at the thought that my mother and father would one day die. I would physically shake and on occasion my heart beat would go into overdrive (a symptom that has recently returned whilst racing around on my bike). I remember several occasions when after particularly bad nights when I got no sleep at all I was literally unable to raise my head from the pillow. It was almost like being trapped inside my body, able to think fairly clearly and quite aware of my surroundings but unable to physically move or speak. On several more occasions I was able to rise from bed but found it almost impossible to walk so had to take the day off school.

I do think I was particularly sensitive but these feelings certainly made me appreciate my parents, cherish them and love them in the knowledge that one day they might not be there. I was eventually able to rationalise my feelings and put into perspective the vagaries of being human. I still worry about my father and my four brothers and sister and indeed my close friends but it is within a certain context. I made a concerted effort to concentrate on what's important in life. I strove every day to be a kind and generous and loving person (and failed miserably of course) and any time I even thought about harbouring grudges or maintaining a ridiculous anger, I'd see death and I'd remember.

The expert in the studio informed Jeremy, and the listeners, that children brought up in Christian households (and presumably some other faiths) tend to deal with death far better than those brought up in non-Christian households. I thought this was beautiful and true and where the Richard Dawkins’ of this world fail to understand the deep magic that is Christianity.

When my mother died 20 years ago I was not a practising Christian although she was. I read her daily diaries, the last 11 years of which consisted of unerring daily entries of “attended Holy Mass”. All of us were struck, awe-struck by the perfection of my mother’s death – her dignity, the way she put her house in order, and of course her incredible life’s journey in service to our Lord. She had no idea that Christmas Day 1992 was to be her final day on Earth. She had not been ill so it was a shock to us all. On that fateful day when she said to me quite calmly “remember Trev, I love all my children” I knew what she was telling me, although as is my way I used the ability to divert my thoughts from the harshness of life’s reality. My mother was an old-school mum who brought up six children clean and tidy in a sometimes stressful household. In the home my visions of her are of being constantly stuck at the kitchen sink washing clothes and when she was able to spare a few minutes to watch Corrie she would inevitably fall asleep mouth wide open, much to our amusement. At work she was a legend. I had the good fortune to work at her hospital, Netherne, while she was a ward sister on Galsworthy ward. I had a temporary job in the admin office and Mr Stephens the hospital administrator thought my mother was a saint. She would pop in to the office on occasion and a big fuss would be made of her. She had a devilish sense of humour and a heart of 24 carat gold. I was so proud of her. The amount of times I visited her ward to see her helping patients walk or take their shopping lists reminded me of just how she liked to do that little bit more. It reminds me now of those poverty-stricken times when she could hardly make ends meet but often managed to sneak a Mars Bar into my pocket when I had a cricket match.

You see, my mother’s faith saw her through. Her devotion to our Lord made everything perfect and she lived and died in a perfect human way. As Christians we embrace death as a natural part of God’s plan. I loved the recent Torchwood episode, Miracle Day, where no one was able to die and the population became unmanageable very quickly. It was thought-provoking and a very real example of the necessity for a thermostat on life.

The feeling of wellbeing from being a Christian goes unsaid very often. We tend to concentrate on Richard Dawkins’ view of us as having a life struggling to follow an unseen entity that makes huge promises but denies epicurean pleasures, thus frustrating the spirit. He just doesn’t get it.

One definition of delusion is - An idiosyncratic belief or impression that is firmly maintained despite being contradicted by what is generally accepted as reality, typically a symptom of mental disorder. Another definition is - A false belief or opinion: laboured under the delusion that success was at hand.

Both these definitions cover the areas that Richard Dawkins finds so offensive and beyond his understanding. Can he truthfully and demonstratively deny the possibility of God and can he truthfully and demonstratively deny the power that that possibility brings and indeed deny that success was very much at hand in the lives of people like my mother. On Earth my mother will be remembered as someone who worked hard all her life, never taking time off, never receiving state hand-outs, and bringing up six children in extreme adversity but within a loving environment with Christian values. I describe a very ordinary and stereotypical existence but one that was given meaning by the manifestation of my mother’s real faith at her death. The knock on effect is immense. The wellbeing of a Christian is gauged by the deepness and sincerity of their faith. This faith gives hope to others and it is not a delusion.

There is nothing in what Richard Dawkins has ever proven that denies the possibility of God in the same way as he would argue that in a faith-based system we can neither prove the existence of God. But the unsaid and unfathomable X factor is all those myriad of hidden qualities of Christianity that make our spirits soar and make us strong and able to face life’s vicissitudes. These are real, not delusions, whichever definition you might care to use.

A clue about depth of conviction of atheists can be gleaned by the amount of converts to Christianity in the trenches. A most natural and heart-warming occurrence but would a Christian change their allegiance if they faced impending doom, which might manifest itself in illness, loss of a loved one, financial destruction etc?. Simple answer NO

Are Christians masochists?

2011-05-29T13:21:00.000-07:00

There must be something about Christians that embraces masochism because my last month or two have been awful and yet I feel full of joy and not in the least despondent. Perhaps that is what we crave as Christians – tests of our faith (as long as they’re not too painful). Perhaps the joy stems from the fact that we are able to rationalise events and know that misfortunes in life can be one of three things i.e. the usual roll of the dice that exists when humans are given freewill and left to their own devices, an indication that something in our lives requires changing or simply that whatever happens in our lives we know it is for the best.

My misfortune began in April when the tachycardia I suffer from (diagnosed as Supraventricular tachycardia, although I have always called it palpitations) became rampant. I’m not sure if I have ever mentioned it before in a blog but it is a condition I suffered from for the first 27 years of my life and never bothered to tell anyone as it was my normality. The attacks became less and less frequent then suddenly disappeared and became a distant memory. Initially the attacks could last up to two or three hours but eventually I learned tricks to shorten the duration. If I were in the classroom I would simply raise my hand to be excused and then go to the toilet and lie down on the cold concrete floor in the cubicle, away from prying eyes. This would invariably shock it back to its normal loop and I always had this overwhelming feeling of relief and joy when it was over. It was annoying to say the least, particularly when playing sport. Although I won the annual school cross-country on a couple of occasions I also remember having an attack while running the county and walking over the line in 168^th position. My reputation was one of winning or dropping out. And why didn’t I tell anyone – because kids do not like to be different. Actually I did tell one person, a school friend, Peter Cowley who told me once that he suffered from the same complaint so I felt safe to tell him of mine. I hope Peter is OK as I haven’t seen him for many years and he is one of few who hasn’t turned up to school reunions.

After almost 30 years I began to suffer them again a couple of years ago. The heart specialist, Mr Sneddon, offered me an ablation operation (where they stick a wire up through a vein in the groin and zap the piece of gristle on the heart) but I didn’t fancy it as I only had attacks two or three times a month. However in April I began cycling again after a winter completing my latest book and I began to have attacks on every ride and then for the first time in my life I had more than one attack on the same day (I had convinced myself this was impossible), in fact I had four attacks whilst out on my Sunday club ride with the Crawley Wheelers, the last after winning the sprint for the line to complete the ride. The next day I had six attacks during a three hour ride and then decided enough was enough so have made another appointment to see the specialist as I realise it is not getting any better and is definitely going to have to be sorted as I do miss my cycling.

I began a pop culture book in 2004 and it has finally (well almost) been completed and for the first time I do not yet have a publisher for it. My works are usually commissioned but I went out on a limb this time as I took it for granted that my publisher would take it on. Alas, I offered it to them last week and they have not taken up the option. It was a bit of a shock to say the least as I know it is my best work to-date and they seem to agree judging by their glowing report but perhaps it merely says something about the present climate. I must admit I probably didn’t help my cause by asking for a transfer to another publisher two years ago but that move was thwarted by them as they asked too much for my backlog. One might think this was a strange move by them but to be honest I have an excellent relationship with everyone at Little, Brown and do not think for one moment their decision is a reaction to my request. My motive was only to team up again with the No 1 man in publishing, the man who gave me my first break in 1998, Alan Samson, now at Orion. I have never spoken to any other publisher (it is now on record) although now I will have to next week.

The thing is I look at these setbacks for what they are. I am fit and healthy and off the bike I do not suffer from ill health (hardly ever get the super-fast heart when walking around) and I have actually enjoyed doing other things instead of having to spend all my free time in a constant state of breathlessness through running or cycling. As for the publisher’s decision - I have never had a lack of confidence in my ability to do what I do well so I just feel sorry that someone there has made the wrong decision as I know this book will do well – and if it was never to get published so what. I know so many excellent writers who have never had the opportunity to ever be published because of someone in their ivory tower did not want to take a chance on them. How lucky have I been.

It is always the times when things are not going supremely well that defines us as human beings and as Christians doubly so. I spent most of my life feeling very undeserving of God’s love (still do if I’m honest) as I had so many vices, and it wasn’t until I realised that God loves us all and my vices were not only hurting me but also hurting Him (this is the nature of sin) that I could rationalise things and try to change them.

So now I am looking forward to a period of soul searching (and publisher searching) and it excites me. I love new challenges and putting things on the line. It is my nature to always bounce back from any misfortune (not that I consider either my job or health issue a misfortune on the grand scale of things – far from it). It shows a certain arrogance of spirit for me to even mention such trivial things but if it helps a solitary person to understand themselves better then so be it.

The World Has Gone Mad

2011-05-19T14:53:00.001-07:00

So I read in this morning’s Telegraph that ‘Kenneth Clarke was forced to apologise yesterday after suggesting that not all rapes were serious’. The paper then goes on to say that Mr Clarke actually said that some rapes were not as serious as others.

What he actually said is something quite different and the paraphrasing used by media sources is the scourge of twenty-first-century-living.

I ask those right-minded citizens out there to read what Mr Clarke actually said and then try and understand that he was merely stating existing fact, nothing more. He doesn’t deserve being vilified for making the observation that some rapes are worse than others. That is evident by the huge sentencing differences. What is the fuss all about?

Certainly not anything Mr Clarke said. Any informed speaker on the subject would have said the same…..surely! or indeed perhaps not in this age of political correctness gone mad.

I have been on various media courses at the behest of my publisher to ensure that when I give interviews I say the right things and give the right signals. Truth doesn’t come into it anymore. The exercise is not to give the media any bait to get their fangs into.

The truth is what I read today is something I have heard and seen discussed in exactly the same way innumerable times both on television and radio. The discussion in the past though has always been about sentencing policy and the act of rape itself but now it seems that it sells more papers to shoot the messenger. I have seriously been considering not reading newspapers or watching television anymore. I am sick to death of the likes of Max Clifford pimping off people’s grief. I am sick to death of reading columns by people like Kelvin Mackenzie pontificating in their holier than thou manner when the truth is these people are media prostitutes – believe me I have had dealings with them!

And for those who don’t know me I am a socialist so have little in common with Tory politicians but am fed up with the truth being bent and twisted to evoke sensationalism. It is bullying plain and simple and until we resolve the problem we as a human race will begin to slip further and further into this dark abyss where truth means nothing and only bland statements will be declared for fear of reprisals.

Do any of you remember those very plausible insurance salesmen that used to come to your home promising they could double your money within ten years only for you to find you would have been better off placing your money under the bed. These media spin merchants are of the same ilk only far far worse - as they KNOW they are misleading you.

I was with Max Clifford the day Fulham legend Johnny Haynes died and his phone didn’t stop ringing. He was telling all and sundry that he was a life-long fan of the great man. In between calls over a sticky bun and a cuppa I questioned him a little about Johnny and it was clear he didn’t have a scooby doo. He deals in illusion you see.

Kelvin Mackenzie jumps on every bandwagon that passes him and yet he is someone known within closed circles to be the most politically incorrect person imaginable. I once did a job for his radio station but my payment did not arrive and when I rang up, and bear in mind I had never spoken to the man before, I was more than a little shocked to have him enter into a one-sided tirade of verbal abuse like you could not possibly imagine. I did not utter a word but was told to “go f--- myself” among other pleasantries. This is the common currency of Mr Mackenzie and yet he is employed like so many of his ilk to act as paragons of virtue when it suits them and to incite the masses when sales need boosting. Truth means nothing nowadays.

Mr Clarke was most eloquent in his words. It is such a terribly difficult crime to legislate against. How many times have we been frustrated when watching television programmes on the subject of rape where justice didn’t appear to be done because the police either advised victims a conviction would be difficult or else at trial a judge found insufficient evidence. How many times too have we heard in our own small lives of people being raped. I know several people who have told me about their rapes and none of them went to the law. The whole subject of rape needs looking at closely. Most men do not understand the intricate nature of rape because they find it too abhorent to contemplate. We understand the violence of course and in fact we always tend to cry out for maximum sentences because of the physical violence aspect - but we cannot comprehend the mental turmoil, the fear, the actual violation. Only another woman can really understand that, which is probably why when someone cries rape falsely women tend to be much less tolerant and forgiving towards a false litigant as they do a disservice to real claimants.

Consent itself has always been the sticking point in so many cases. I sat and watched a case once where I felt sure the defendant was guilty but it turned out to be his word against hers and no conviction followed because of the strict code the jury was instructed to adhere to. To try and simplify rape as acrosss the board rape too is dangerous. Mr Clarke gave the example of a 17 year old sleeping with a 15 year old. Now I don’t think for one moment he gave this as an example rather than say a 30-year-old man or whatever, he was surely making the point that two immature children do immature irresponsible things. I know several schoolfriends of mine that slept with girls before they were 16. Although I wouldn’t say it was the norm I have to say it happened even in the 1960s and 1970s. I know one close friend of mine that was caught in bed by the mother of a 15-year-old and although she read him the riot act he was not convicted of anything, and yes he was 17 (and no it wasn’t me, I did not lose my virginity until many years later).

It is rightly an emotive subject. Most right-minded people feel that convicted rapists beyond a shadow of a doubt, of the type that Kenneth Clarke describes as those that merely choose their victim from the street, deserve some sort of castration, while perhaps those that come under the heading of statutory rape deserve a lesser sentence dependent on the circumstances.

I have no political sympathy for Kenneth Clarke but I do believe that if we condone his sacking for merely giving his expert analysis as a lawyer and politician, then we will find ourselves up a very sticky gum tree where we will be the castrated ones as a nation. Policy will be impossible to be formed as we will always be upsetting some minority with a voice. To give you a final example of the sort of thing that can happen. Two years ago I asked to be removed from the emailing list of my local Labour Party as I was very upset to be called homophobic by one of the other group. What had happened was that our local chairman asked us to picket a meeting of the BNP in Crawley and I replied rather irritatingly that I feel that we should concentrate on our own party and not be drawn into slagging off others. Well all hell broke loose and several members of the group sent me private email telling me how the BNP had made it personal by ringing them up anonymously and heavy breathing and all sorts of skulduggery. My thoughts were how could this possibly happen unless you continue to incite conflict but I understood their feelings. What I didn’t understand was the one chap who replied to the group that he was so upset because I was clearly condoning the BNP who were anti-gay and so I must be homophobic!! What the poor chap didn’t know was that I lobbied for a dear gay friend of mine to become my local Bewbush Councillor only a month prior to this and indeed he got in after I broke custom by speaking on his behalf before the vote.

You see it should always be about the best man for the job irrespective of nepotism.

Last year the same man was up as the Labour Party candidate to fight the general election and I actually voted against him this time as I felt there was a better candidate for the job. My friend rang me and we had a frank discussion about it and he totally understood. It was the hardest thing I have done for years but I simply could not vote for him merely because he was a friend, and his boyfriend was a friend and the son of a special friend of mine. I’d rather feel guilty of upsetting a friend than standing accused of nepotism.

No I am not trying to be holier than thou. I too have my moments which is why I understand the danger of nepotism and not making rational decisions. I used to quite like Chris Tarrant but immediately went off him when I felt he stitched me up like a kipper on WWTBAM. Now quite illogically when I hear him on the radio I find myself not well disposed towards him. I say illogically because I have never been one to either harbour grudges or understand why grudges are harboured. Words said in anger are often masking deep rooted feelings of love and should never cause terminal rifts - but sadly so often do.

It is hard enough being a fickle human being anyway but to put more temptations in our path, more reasons to show our gang mentality, more reason for us to become institutionalised neutered bullies, never giving anyone the benefit of the doubt.

Once I became a Christian I lost a certain amount of my ego. I no longer felt I needed to be loved by human beings. I did feel I wanted to understand them and I certainly still hated it when I was misunderstood but I no longer felt inadequate, rather I was resigned to the fact that we are all fickle and liable to make irrational decisions from time to time. Few people deserve hate per se. Comment, of course, pity even but serious hate should only be reserved for those that cannot rise above personal tragedy - for instance many of the victims of rape I discussed above. I know that hate destroys the soul and essence of a human being. How many of us know people who have been totally devastated by grief. But even within a Christian community it would be difficult to get across an argument for forgiving the perpetrator of a heinous crime like rape and yet many who have been able to do so have lived much fuller lives. Closure is often easier when you are in control.

These are the sort of questions I would like to concentrate on, the wellbeing of the victims, not a politician who was merely stating the obvious.

Nepotism - the scourge of the ruling classes!

2011-05-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

I hereby call for the resignations of both David Cameron and Nick Clegg on the grounds of nepotism, the scourge of human frailty and my own particular bête noire.

By coming out in defence of David Laws, who was found guilty of using taxpayers’ money to pay his boyfriend more than £100,000, our two chief politicians have shown they cannot be trusted to adhere to consistent logical procedures implemented to ensure the public can have total faith in our elected Members of Parliament.

And before anyone accuses me of being biased, I can declare that I resigned from the Labout Party earlier this year in protest at the nepotism shown last year when electing our Labour Party candidate to fight the General Election.

I understand this human frailty only too well. We are all guilty of it. As soon as we first speak to a total stranger on a bus we are more prone to favour that person over any other passenger – It is the way humans are wired and may appear quite harmless but in actual fact this tendency is responsible for more of the world’s ills than any plague we have ever dealt with.

It might seem good to place people that one can trust in positions of authority. The problem is that vested interests creep in and ‘blind eyes’ are turned often resulting in tragedy. I do not jest when I say that none of the world’s dictators would have existed but for nepotism. What was the first thing that Stalin did before implementing his own will on the Russian people? He launched a massive purge against his native enemies and either had them executed or imprisoned in Siberian gulags. How did Hitler manage to persuade the German people that cultural hegemony was a sound and worthy cause? His first action was to have a massive purge against his native enemies (the original one in 1934 known as ‘The Night of the Long Knives’). And what of Trujillo – massive purge of native enemies by systematic killings and expanded this to indiscriminate killing of Haitians that shared the island of Hispaniola with the Dominican Republic. This was known as the Parsley Massacre. And Chairman Mao – massive purge of native enemies and had them horrifically tortured in very graphic circumstances; Saddam Hussein (massive purge of native enemies, mainly Kurds, in the so-called Al-Anfal campaign of genocide). In every case these purges were supplemented by the dictators strategically placing their own choices in the top government positions.

Even with the apparently good regimes such as Kennedy’s ‘Camelot’ the nepotism almost plunged the world into nuclear war because in truth many of JFK’s advisors were not worthy of the positions held.

A form of nepotism got OJ Simpson a reprieve from murder and his current 33 year sentence for armed robbery probably vindicates that assessment. The old pal’s act, money buys anything, if your face fit – call it what you will, but unless the general public has faith in government then we will always be in recession!

David Laws might be a most affable good-hearted chap but he clearly cannot be allowed to serve in Government because he is tarnished. He might well be totally trustworthy but it is the perception that is all important here and unfortunately he should have thought about the bigger picture. Normally I would love the idea of loyalty to a friend but in asking for clemency for David Laws both David Cameron and Nick Clegg don’t seem to understand that rules are made for a reason and cannot be compromised on a whim or else the fabric of society breaks down. David Laws is an intelligent quick-witted man and will do well in any job he takes on but unfortunately he has burnt his bridges in politics for me.

Happy Easter to you all

2011-04-23T08:53:00.001-07:00

The young bomb disposal expert Captain Lisa Head recently killed in the Helmand Province of Afghanistan has prompted me to re-evaluate my thoughts about the military.

When we think of all those soldiers that have lost their lives in the course of their duty we often attempt to rationalise it with all manner of inadequate cliches: ‘Liberty’, ‘Queen and country’, ‘democracy’, ‘good over evil’, ‘a necessary evil’, ‘fair play’, ‘honour’, ‘future peace’, ‘stability’ and even ‘they knew the risk’. To the families left behind, all these reasons are but crumbs of comfort as despair, emptiness, confusion and anger embroil their very being. And yet many of the left behind find joy in the knowledge that their loved ones did not die in vain.

A Christian’s life is very similar – On this Good Friday we reflect on the anniversary of Jesus’ death and we attempt to rationalise it albeit in a typically human way. We know that Jesus suffered a truly painful death and we also know He did this for us, so that we might be saved – and yet because we learn that the story has a happy ending in which Jesus rises again our fickle brains make light of the sacrifice Jesus made.

I remember the parable of the labourers in the vineyard whereby the householder hired various workers in the morning for a penny a day. As the day went on he hired more workers at the third hour, the sixth hour and finally at the eleventh hour. He told these latecomers that he would pay them what is right. When the day was done and the steward paid each man a penny, those that had worked all day felt cheated. The steward had paid the last recruited first and it was too much for them to bear to see these people receive a full penny. They imagined the goodman of the house would pay them more when it came to their turn – but alas no. Perhaps if the steward had only paid the latecomers half a penny the early workers would still be satisfied!

There are several points here: Jesus offered this parable as an example of a description of the kingdom of heaven. One of the morals of the story is that the last shall be first and the first last. I had a real example of this in practice today when I turned up late for church and the car park was full. I drove around the block and found the one free parking space at the back of the church next to the presbytery. As the church was full I was ushered in to the presbytery where I and some other latecomers were given a full-screen video-link of the service complete with a fantastic audio system. We didn’t even have to queue to take communion as one of the priests came to us first. It isn’t a great analogy perhaps but truth is I arrived at church at 2.50 for a 3 o’clock service so was not really late and I was not bothered about parking as I knew there was a pay-and-display just up the road. In a similar way in the parable those that were employed first thing required no faith. They entered into a contract and were paid their full due. Those that were employed later in the day were only told they would be paid “whatever is right”. They required faith that they would be paid a fair amount. Clearly the good householder had done no wrong. He entered into a contract with each worker and they were happy. What changed? Absolutely nothing – except the ridiculous non-christian sense of fair play that humans have developed since man’s first disobedience. It is this same fallacy that permeates all human reasoning and why we struggle to do the right thing without recourse to God. How many times have I heard non-christians tell me they do not sin? Well clearly most so-called ‘right-minded citizens’ would feel a little peeved if someone who worked only one hour received the same wages for their graft as they themselves who worked a full twelve hours. They simply cannot rationalise things correctly in their human brains. It is a sin to covet someone else’s property and that is what this parable describes – among several other things.

Most people cannot comprehend any other way.

I read in this morning’s Telegraph that Dr Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury has suggested that the rich and powerful should be required by law to spend time each year helping the poor and needy. He is right in my opinion. It is not so much wrong that we elevate the rich and famous but all Christians know that all such people have received their reward on Earth and human wealth and position trucks no status in the kingdom of heaven. I wrote to every person who took part in the Secret Millionaire series. I was touched by the crumbs they threw at those in need. I was not interested in their motives as it was of no consequence. Their reward is of this Earth but God in His kingdom expects far more of us.

In Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians (chapters 6 and 7) he lays out a template for the perfect Christian life for all those born again. The template is as relevant today as it was 2000 years ago and yet even the truest of Christians struggle with its content. I myself am guilty of customising my faith to accommodate my shortcomings.

I was driving along with a Christian friend the other day and they asked me out of the blue to describe my relationship with God using a motoring analogy. I didn’t even think momentarily as I had no idea what I was going to say but my mouth spoke anyway. I saw myself driving down the highway alone with God driving beside me on the inside lane watching me. I was aware of Him and acutely aware of my sin also. I felt guilty but safe all the while He was watching over me. I felt panic too that He might disappear in exasperation at my stubborness. You see I do not do enough as a Christian, in fact, although I love the Lord with all my heart, I do nothing. I wondered why God did not pull over and invite me into His car. And then my mind wandered to God’s car on my inside. He was driven by His angels and He was pained. He said to them “Why doesn’t he pull over and ask Me for a lift”. You see the problem is there is a divide. I feel I have separated myself so inevitably communication breaks down. God does not hear unrepentant sinners and does not speak to those who will not listen. Although I pray that He makes me listen, the truth is He would rather I used my own freewill.

Please don’t misunderstand, I do nothing outrageously wrong. I have always felt not quite good enough anyway. It is my nature. I am one of six children and I never felt quite deserving of five siblings and never felt quite good enough to be a member of my own family. I was always on the fringes looking in but never participating fruitfully. It was the same with friendships. Why would anyone want to befriend me? – a sinner. So that said, it is inevitable that I feel I am a long way short of what a Christian should be. I say the right things of course but the truth is I am fickle. I am opinionated for one. I have always been anti-war and anti-fighting period – and yet I read the story of Captain Head and my human brain cannot compute. I don’t know her motives for joining the military but the job she undertook was brave to a point that few can imagine and I certainly can’t. She killed no one, rather she put herself on the front line to protect others. I hope that she is awarded a posthumous VC so that people will remember her bravery and her memory will live on on this Earth. I also pray that God evaluates her life and deeds and by His grace and mercy finds her to be someone worthy of His kingdom.

What is my sin you might ask? Where shall I begin. I am a fickle human being. I am supposed to try to emulate Jesus’ life and yet I lie over the most stupid things and try to justify my lies by imagining it is ‘for the best’! I am an occasional gambler who again justifies it by imagining that it is moderate and never happens during the 40 days of lent! I have too much money in the bank but justify that by throwing crumbs and imagining that I have responsibilities – and of course the rainy day syndrome! Where is my faith?

And of course I am very aware of my human frailty every time I am a victim of bad driving or bad manners. Need I go on. And yet I call myself Christian. Is it any wonder that we as a race are in the state we are in. Why we revere the likes of Richard Dawkins as some sort of revelationary guru instead of pity the simple-minded non-entity that I feel him to be. Ah well I suppose he does make a lot of money so in the world he describes this one to be perhaps my evaluation of him is a little harsh. I myself am fed up being a hypocrite. My faith is constant and eternal and yet am I the light I should be – NO WAY. I know of at least one person I had a relationship with in the past who would not think of me as any sort of light. For myself on this Blessed day I know time is running out. I must get things right in God’s eyes. I want my car to stop - to run out of petrol if that is the only way.

So to all those out there who also feel not quite good enough, please don’t despair. God is a patient God. Repent with a true heart and know that whether your sin is greater or less than mine is of no consequence to God. The Holy Spirit will help all those who have a true wish to purify their soul and although you will inevitably fall short of the perfection of Jesus you will find that if you do all that is humanly possible to know God then He will be there for you, not in an airy-fairy way but in a real way. And why then do I still bumble along having to continually confess my sins? Because I am human, better than some at being human and a whole heap worse than others. I cannot trust myself to refrain from nepotism and all those seemingly innocuous skewed decisions we make every day. Just look at those politicians we place in the ivory towers. They are no worse than any workers in any industry. Their mind sets are merely human and fallible. Unfortunately until we change the hearts of man we will all just bumble along making self-seeking decisions. But the good news is we can start looking at ourselves and make changes to ourselves. Not be influenced by what society (quite often the media today) deems as acceptable but take our lead from a higher source of command. Do not worry about being used and abused. Do not worry about being duped. And certainly do not worry if our fellow workers are paid more than us for doing the same job, or paid the same for doing less. So what – we can all work out our budget to live at an acceptable level. It is not difficult. I myself had a perfectly good existence when I lived on the streets for three weeks so there is not a millionaire alive who needs more. I find it obscene that Portugal requires nine billion to bail themselves out and yet over the years I have met individuals who have that kind of wealth themselves. Why can’t they give it up and be blessed both on this Earth but more importantly in the kingdom of heaven. Personally, and controversially perhaps, I would take it from them in taxation as I do not feel most people are capable of making such decisions themselves. Humans tend to justify things to themselves - even when they know something is for their own good they resist.

Happy Easter – isn’t it warm? God bless all those in pain – don’t worry, it doesn’t last

My Tooth Hurty Appointment

2011-04-01T05:36:00.000-07:00

It’s been a funny old week what with one thing and another. It started off with me chipping a tooth causing the resultant jagged edge to play havoc with my tongue. What a blessed relief it was to sit in the dentist’s chair and feel that erstwhile dreaded drill doing its work so that I might again speak and eat in comfort. Oh how we take those simple pleasures for granted.

“Bottom left is it” said my dentist. “Yeah” I replied, thinking what a great insight the man has to my teeth before he even begins his investigation. “And a rinse. There you go all done”. Fantastic ! I felt a new man after having such a miserable time of late. That is until I left the surgery and seemed to feel the same stiletto piercing of my lingual regions as I opened my gob. I convinced myself that it must be the swelling and previous lacerations but was surprised that eating was so painful with my tongue constantly being spiked as I chomped.

I swallowed my pride, and little else I might add, and made another appointment, fearing the offending tooth would require extraction. As I sat in the chair and opened my mouth to scream Aghhhhhh I thought I’d help this time by placing my finger on the offending jagged edge to explain the problem. “Oh” said the dentist. “That tooth – I’ve been drilling in another place”.

I’d been a victim of the classic wrong tooth gag. It was hardly as serious as the wrong limb being amputated, or being given a wrong fatal diagnosis, but strangely upsetting nonetheless. The relief of feeling whole again more than made up for any feelings of annoyance. In fact I rather thought it was very funny as the dentist tried to reassure me that the tooth he drilled was definitely in need of pruning!

And then I received my six-monthly wages from my publisher. What a bizarre job I have that I get paid twice a year and never have a clue how much it is likely to be, if anything at all. The simple truth is that most authors do not earn royalties from their books. They are paid an advance and in most cases the resultant sales are not sufficient to exceed the money already paid. I know this to be true from the trade mags, stats, and my friends within the industry, some of which have never earnt a royalty in their lives. How lucky and spoilt have I been then that for ten years my books have not only always earnt royalties but have in fact clawed back the advance paid at first statement. I am always amazed that after ten years of being in the shops my A to Z of Everything is as popular now as it was when I was first told it was “flying off the shelves” in 2001. Perhaps it is the hours I put in or just plain luck but whatever it is I am truly humbled by the response the book has generated. How fortunate am I to have a job where I am told I am doing OK by my fellow humans. It wasn’t always the case for me as an accountant. Of the thousands of letters, email and phone calls received I can’t remember a solitary negative one. Of course I am used to the stock letter that tells me how wonderful the book is but then goes on to point out an error on page 1192 but these have become an invaluable aid to ensure greater accuracy next time around. If I never sold another book I would still praise the Lord for my good fortune.

And then in the knowledge that I can eat for the next six months I decided to watch some TV for a change. This was definitely a treat as I have been working up to 20 hour days since November desperately trying to complete my latest work the A to Z of Popular Culture. I have given up my cycling, television, and I’m full of shame to say even some church commitments in order to put closure on seven years of research. The work is now complete and yet I have not yet sent it to a publisher as I am forever tweaking and editing as I tend to be the ultimate perfectionist and every time I read a section I feel I can improve it. Anyway, flicking through the channels I came across a show where two celebrities were in various stages of suing the press for defamation, one of which was Lembit Opik, the former MP for Montgomeryshire, who has single-handedly done for politics what Psycho did for shower curtains. It really was hilarious when his solicitor took his case to a barrister in the hope of representation and the barrister rather apologetically suggested that the comments in The Times might be considered ‘fair comment’.

Now Limp Bizkit is a very affable chap, definitely the type of man I’d have a pint with, if I were so disposed. He didn’t go to the extremes as some of his friends at fiddling his expenses although £2,500 for a plasma TV and the expectation of reimbursement for a £40 fine for council tax evasion was probably pushing things a little. Even taking Sian Lloyds caustic criticism of his womanising and excessive drinking with a pinch of salt as the rantings of an ex-lover, Mr Cheeky boy does write for the Daily Sport and does earn a living as a stand-up comedian. Noble occupations one might consider but, and it is a big but, if someone has serious aspirations to become the sort of person that one would trust to make policy that will effect up to 60 million people in this country and many more globally, then perhaps their private life should be tempered with a little more sprinkling of gravitas. I’m all for character and personality and truth and honesty and I feel Limpet has all these traits, albeit in very unequal and dysfunctional proportions.

Unfortunately, I missed the last few minutes because my Sky + box packed up and so I don’t know how his case turned out but I fear it was doomed. I think the good people of Wales merely said to themselves Ecce Homo – or maybe ‘ecky thump - but I doubt if anything they read in The Times served to influence greatly. I see people like Lampost at every Labour Party meeting I attend - Good-natured and good-intentioned but unfortunately lacking ability, drive, experience, nous, gravitas, judgement, intelligence, craft and wit. Isn’t it a great world where the likes of Tracy Emin can become an artist although she cannot paint? Or the likes of Lambpit Opec can become a politician although he cannot be taken seriously. I truly believe it is marvellous but let’s have some perspective here. Ask Nigel Havers if he had any preconceived ideas about the Liberal MP before he met him in the jungle. Nigel knows more than a little about British politics of course, and yet he found it truly frightening that this man was allowed out on his own and in charge of sharp instruments let alone representing thousands of people in parliament!

Incidentally, I’ve been given a date of 5th April for the Sky engineers to fix my box. Yet another £65 call-out on a box that has never worked properly since installed in September 2009, but 5th April!! I pay £58 per month for their service, or lack of it, and you can’t even get terrestrial TV anymore since they decided to drop it a couple of years ago. I remember being a child in the 1960s and mum calling out the TV repair man on our rented set. They would always come out same day or give you a new set, nowadays they keep you waiting a week and charge you into the bargain. As long as they don’t expect to charge me the full monthly rental next month for a service they are not supplying. So I’m going to miss the Cricket World Cup final on Saturday. I wonder if Lumpit would invite me around to watch it with him?

STOP PRESS - I was subsequently fortunate to find a local TV repair man, Dave Farr, who repaired my damaged box, only charged me £40 and enabled me to watch India play Sri Lanka this coming Saturday. There is a moral there somewhere but the bottom line is that SKY after sales service is non-existent and shame on them

Sporting Observations

2011-03-26T12:18:00.000-07:00

Well at last England were put out of their misery in the cricket World Cup – and how!

I’ve spoken to a lot of people lately who think the world is going through the inevitable stages of Armageddon, what with earthquakes, tsunamis, demonstrations, uprisings and now sporting meltdown, it certainly looks like something is going on.

Andy Murray hasn’t won a set since being beaten by Djokovic in the final of the Australian Open in January and Ireland beat England in a World Cup group match in Bangalore in the most improbable fashion possible. It wasn’t the victory that was so remarkable, as my mother country tends to always raise its game against England at any sport (just ask rugby fans), but Ireland actually required 168 runs from the last 20 overs with only five wickets remaining. Now in a Twenty20 match with all wickets intact that would be improbable, with only four lower order batsmen to come in the task was impossible…….and yet!

Today was embarrassing. To see Trott literally trotting around as if he were playing in a five-day Test match, knocking the ball around lazily for singles. The selectors haven’t got a brain cell between them in my opinion. I remember the days when the great Surrey batsman Ken Barrington was dropped from the Test side after scoring too slowly in a previous match, although he was the top scorer. Now Ken was not a slow scorer by any means. He was known for his trademark six-hitting when approaching his century.

To those defenders who might argue that Trott is currently the top scorer in the World Cup I would say one thing. OF COURSE HE IS NO TEAM WANTS TO GET HIM OUT. And Strauss gives the same post-match talk every time. He clearly feels as though England can justify their mediocrity in the one day game as long as they are not totally humbled. Well today they lost by 10 wickets and their lack of spirit was there for the world to see. Yes they won the Ashes because the selfish players such as Trott, who refuse to risk giving their wicket away cheaply, come into their own. In the one day game he is a liability and always will be by dint of his nature. For the same reason another South African import Kevin Pietersen is not the great one day player he could be. Kevin often scores quicker in Test Matches than he does in the one-dayers. This is basically because he is a natural stroke-maker and is given more freedom in the Test arena where bowlers are not so intensely guarding every run. In the one-day game he gets bogged down and frustrated when he cannot score at his optimum four or five an over. Contrast this with Morgan, Bell and Collingwood who irrespective of form always have a go and play the game to give the team the best possible chance. England won the Twenty20 World Cup for one reason. They really didn’t care less about the results as they believe it is a second rate competition anyway. There is a large element of luck to it and they played freely in the knowledge that the stats are separate from their Test or One-day tallies. A 50 over match is an extension of Twenty20 and yet England have always played when batting first as if they have the best bowling attack in the world. All I’ll say is this. Please do not ever play Trott again in one-day cricket but keep him for Test matches where his Boycottish attitude will be a positive boon rather than the hindrance it has become in limited over matches. Please do not inflict him on us unsuspecting fans who wish to live in our fantasy world that England can play poritive cricket throughout a match. And before anyone says well his scoring rate is not the worst in our side all I’ll say is it is all about momentum (that word that is always bandied around in all sport nowadays) and his methodical style and general languidity and lack of urgency is detrimental to team spirit as one always feels as though he is the ‘new’ batsman in any partnership and this puts pressure on them. Would we have rather of seen England possibly bowled out for 160 today in 30 overs by having a go or scoring 229 in 50 overs knowing we require a heap of luck. Well England have chosen the second course of action all the way through this competition and so it was inevitably doomed to failure. Ross Taylor might struggle to get in the England Test team but the New Zealander has played some memorable knocks for his country and also in the IPL where he is more valuable than any English player. I rest my case. We need at least two more Morgans, a decent fast bowler and a truly positive captain not someone who has been on a media course of how to say the right things.

While on the subject of sport can I just say how horrified I was by the way an element of the crowd pelted Adrian Lewis with beer and coins during his Premier League darts match against Gary Anderson at the SECC in Glasgow. Admittedly Anderson did himself no favours by talking up the match for months beforehand, almost inciting the crowd to this sort of behaviour - but he himself was clearly shocked by the level of abuse and lost 8-3 in a match that was totally ruined as a spectacle. For goodness sake Lewis is a world champion sportsman not an aunt sally!

While I am on my sporting soap box may I finally mention one of the most interesting human studies in sport - tribal warfare. How is that a snooker player will call his own fouls whilst in football a player will dive in the box to gain a penalty or pretend he has been virtually assassinated in order to gain a free kick or get a player sent off. Is it something endemic in the type of people that play these sports. Of course it isn’t. It is all about acceptable behaviour, trends and conventions. In the old days cricketers walked. Nowadays you are either a walker or you are not. Neither one nor the other is particularly frowned upon or embraced. It is a fact of the modern game that famous walkers such as the great Australian Adam Gilchrist are sometimes pilloried in the dressing room by not being more team conscious in their honesty. And some of the catches claimed nowadays defy belief. It is as if the fielders forget there are a half a dozen cameras on them. In my opinion what has happened is this. Sportspeople like to reflect their glory quite often. It shows appreciation and modesty when all the world can see with their own eyes that they are the talent. In team sports an athlete can justify cheating to themselves as it is to put one over on the opposing army. In individual sports you will be a lonely forlorn figure if cheating is perceived as merely helping your own cause. For this reason I say we should bring cameras into play for all major football matches as the game is far too big to be left to the military minds of the teams. Look at England in the last World Cup. Useless – yes – but cheated most certainly. A simple ten second glance at a replay would have told the ref that he was wrong. I’m fed up with seeing po-faced managers denigrating highly trained referees when the poor blighters haven’t got a chance of handling the sort of pressure they are under. In cricket it has been a positive boon and quite often the most interesting part of the game. Bring it on FA. And Andy – start practicing on grass NOW – you can win Wimbledon and become a sporting god for evermore.

Keith Scott Can Cure Your Frozen Shoulder

2011-01-13T05:13:00.000-08:00

Almost a year ago I began to develop symptoms of adhesive capsulitis, more commonly known as frozen shoulder.

It started as a pain in my right arm which I thought was brought on by a heavy fall on the ice whilst out cycling with my local Crawley Wheelers. Gradually I found myself unable to close my car door, take off my clothes overhead, sleep on my right side, put my hand on my hip or ride my bike without severe pain. I had some sessions with my private physio, who diagnosed it as a rotator cuff problem, but this did not help. I then saw every quack under the sun but was still being kept awake most nights with the pain. I joined the local gym but immediately realised I not only couldn't even lift the bare bar I couldn't even get myself under the bar or use any of the apparatus at all. I next visited my GP who sent me to the local hospital for physio and I was almost instantly diagnosed as having classic symptoms of frozen shoulder, unusual for a healthy person like myself as most sufferers tend to be diabetic. The hospital has a set routine but as my shoulder was severe there was little they could do. I tried injections and manipulation but my shoulder remained stiff. The hospital could not give me hands-on physio as they felt it was too painful so I was signed off in September and told that nature would have to take its course which could be a couple of years on average.

I then scoured the internet and wasted more money on Bowen Therapy and acupressure before coming across a man named Keith Scott who promised he could cure a frozen shoulder in 12 weeks. I started his course, which is sent in weekly online modules and I must admit I was fortunate in having all the required apparatus at my local gym. The guy was so positive I was full of hope and each week, each day in fact, I felt a little bit stronger and confident about pushing back the boundaries. I couldn't walk my hand anywhere near the top of the door jamb in week 1 but a few short weeks later I had this one cracked and my overhead mobility began to come back. This period is called the thaw. I'm now at week 12 and for all intents and purposes I am cured. I can reach up over my head and yesterday I weight trained for the first time and managed to bench press 10 x 70 kg and chin the bar for the first time in over a year. A month ago I still couldn't lift the 20kg bar or support my own weight and when I tried a bent arm row my right side went up at the shoulder in a quasimodo-type position.

The only thing I cannot do is stand flat with my back against the wall and raise my arms up but I am wondering if I could ever do that anyway as my best training exercise has always been curls and when I was able to chin the bar 64 times in a minute this could only be achived underarm and I always struggled with behind the neck pressing, many a time pulling the weight down on top of my head. This tells me that I probably had this weakness for many years and may even have been this that caused the frozen shoulder. I intend to work on this solidly to prevent it returning but I am pleased to say that Keith Scott's course either cured or advanced my recovery and would have saved me an awful lot of money if I had sought him out earlier.

I hope this endorsement helps any fellow sufferers. It is a nasty condition but I promise you it is very curable with a progressive program, I can now put my arm behind my back and even sleep on my right side. I am virtually pain free and the aching I presently feel is probably because I am working the shoulder fiercely, impatient person that I am.

BBC Eggheads Came to Croydon

2010-12-03T04:46:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you feel there are defining moments in your life, pivotal times when your hopes and aspirations have the propensity to be dashed beyond recall and only God’s grace can save the day – last evening was such an occasion.

To satisfy the module requirements of the Diploma in IT, a new schools initiative which combines A-Level theory with real world practice, seven local students from Archbishop Tenison school had spent most of the Autumn school term meticulously planning a quiz night at the Croydon Park Hotel in aid of Children in Crisis and the local Purley Cross Centre.

Being an old family friend through church of Ruth Benjamin, the school’s diploma line lead, I was recruited as part of the steering committee and during our first meeting Miss Benjamin suggested the idea of a quiz event and I subsequently had the idea of getting the famous BBC Eggheads on board. We had no idea what a journey it would be - especially for the kids - gaining many wonderful experiences (spiritual as well as physical) along the way. Miss Benjamin wrote one of the schemes of work for a Diploma practical (enterprise, team work and event management) unit which includes all the things we did along the way. The IT used was significant and the business skills developed quite amazing for 16-year-old children - children who I witnessed growth into young adulthood as the weeks went by.

After several planning meetings at the school over the course of the past few months we felt we had catered for all eventualities and there was a real buzz of excitement as D-Day approached. What could possibly go wrong? The Magnificent Seven and their equally splendid IT teachers, Ruth and Miss Preya Syal, had managed to sell a room full of tables, persuade me to front the event and also book (free of charge) the famous BBC Egghead team as the guests of honours. Lucy Porter, the events organiser for Children In Crisis, had gifted us some spectacular raffle prizes and we also had a damned good quiz using some intricate powerpoint technology in line with the course description.

HOWEVER, to quote Robert Burns (one of the answers in the quiz) the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry – and who would have thought that Wednesday 1st December 2010 would experience the worst weather conditions ever seen on the first day of December in living memory!

On the morning of the event the Seven and their teachers arrived at the hotel bright and early to make their final preparations and were immediately hit with the bombshell that Daphne Fowler could simply not get out of Weston-super-Mare due to heavy snow falls and so now we were an Egghead down and morale was definitely low. Everything was set and in place. The tables were laid out immaculately and the raffle prizes filled a whole room. Grahame Harding, the co-founder of CiC had kindly donated a night at the famous London Ritz for two people; the Duchess of York, Grahame’s co-founder, had donated two brand new Dolce and Gabbana dresses from her own collection; there were golfing breaks and paintball experiences; solid silver bracelets, Egghead memorabilia (including one of CJ’s more colourful shirts worn on the show), books signed by myself, William Hartston (the former British chess champion who now writes for the Express in the guise of Beachcomber) and Paul Donnelley, a very well respected reference book writer of numerous trivia books - and too many more great prizes to list here.

Reports came through about the worsening conditions. I set out from my Crawley home mid morning and arrived at the venue just after 1pm and as I left my car who should I see walking towards the hotel but my dear old friend Chris Hughes. My spirits are always lifted when I see Chris and more so on this occasion when I considered that he had managed to travel down from Crewe that morning. Chris and I settled down in the bar area with Andrew Tringham, the head of IT at Tenison’s, while awaiting Chris’s room to be availed and although news began to filter through of a table cancellation due to the ever-worsening weather, we were again heartened when Kev Ashman wandered in after having an horrendous journey from Paris causing him to miss a crucial match in the Quiz League of London the night before.

News of two more table cancellations came through before the earlier than expected arrival of Mr CJ De Mooi looking as fresh-faced and vibrant as ever. CJ had cut short some filming to accommodate the students and had driven from Wales in blissful ignorance of the severe weather in the south east region. When I spoke with him the night before he was full of cold and with a three-month-solid schedule ahead beginning next week with panto rehearsals for his starring role as the all-knowing Emperor in Aladdin at the Princes Theatre, Clacton-on-Sea, and ending with some film work in New York, I didn’t think it prudent to discuss the weather – very un-British of us!

Pat Gibson arrived next – he had travelled down from Wigan and although it was difficult for him to find a train running south initially, he eventually had a fairly uneventful journey. Pat and I chilled for a while in his room as I had not seen much of him since his extraordinary run of quiz successes in recent years culminating in him becoming the first legitimate claimant to Kevin’s crown as the world’s best quiz player. Pat won this year’s world quizzing championship by a staggering eleven points and to use a snooker analogy is catching Kev in the same way that Ronnie O’Sullivan is eating away at Stephen Hendry’s record tally of century breaks.
Although I have been close friends with Kev for many years and love and respect him like a brother I think it is probably healthy that he no longer dominates the world of quiz in the fashion he once did and if anyone was ever going to rival him I must admit I am over the moon it is an Irish man – so no more Irish jokes please!

So now we were all feeling slightly more relieved that at least 80 per cent of the ‘talent’ had arrived and Barry had messaged through that although he had managed to make the trek from Leeds he was running late and would not be arriving until approximately 6pm, which was cutting things fine.

We were all a little panicky at this point as John Ruskin College, Norbury Manor School, and Croydon College, all wonderful institutions that pioneer vocational learning and prioritise enterprise and dynamic learning, and all of which had bought and paid for tables, were forced to abandon ship as the roads were hardly navigable by now. I know the students and organisers were grateful for their support and I’m sure there will be mutual support of any upcoming collaborative events. A huge thank you to them for supporting this important event and I’m so sorry they couldn't be there!

I know it seems bizarre that the Eggheads managed to make the trek from all parts of the country whilst locals in Croydon struggled but in severe weather conditions the most difficult part of your journey is often escaping the street where you live.

Only three tables had actually confirmed at this juncture and as the meals were all pre-booked the ever-ingenious team were conjuring up all sorts of contingency ideas. The hotel would not let us approach their guests however and there just wasn’t anyone around on the streets we could usher in to offer a free meal, although I understand Andrew Tringham managed to coerce a family member or two along – good man!

Grahame Harding arrived now with his delightful partner, Paula. It was an absolute joy to see them as they are the kind of people that go about their business in a very unassuming manner forever doing good deeds and yet are at the very top of their profession, hence unbelievably busy and focused. Grahame’s company First City Care is responsible for the security of the Bank of England and he himself was responsible for the security of Diana, Princess of Wales in the latter part of her life. I know the children and staff would like to thank Grahame for his very generous raffle gift of a night at the Ritz for two and also for his and Paula's general support.

By now there was no more time for contingencies as 6.30 approached and the reception was due to begin and there was still no sign of Barry Simmons. I now did what I always do before any situation where I feel helpless and a little apprehensive – I prayed. Not that I hadn’t been praying in church prior to the event and indeed on several occasions during the day but this was just my little special prayer to ask God to take away any glory that might be inadvertently directed towards me as the front man as I was only too aware that my input was negligible in comparison to Ruth and Preya’s and totally insignificant compared to the efforts of Alice, Alistair, Geewai, Matt, Omar, Roddard and Tevin, my Magnificent Seven.

And so we began. It was lovely to meet some old friends. The lovely beaming smile of Anusha Shah was the first familiar sight. A friend of both myself and Miss Benjamin's, ‘Nushi’, as she will always be to me, was part of a Jacob’s Engineer’s team and she herself was the youngest ever and first female Chair of the Institute of Civil Engineers and has done a lot to support education in recent months. I had already spoken to Bill Hartston earlier but we exchanged a few words now. Bill was a huge star in the world of chess in bygone days and had a very popular television series introducing chess for beginners. Bill is the radical thinking Beachcomber in the Daily Express and his latest project of developing his Wakkipedia website has already proven popular with the school students. Although Bill was an old friend I first met at the Mind Sports Olympiads over a decade ago, Paul Donnelley was someone I only knew through our mutual friend, the late great Jeremy Beadle and it was a delight to meet the man that Jeremy ranked so highly in the world of reference books. My final words were in the company of Chris Hughes and Miss Benjamin’s parents, Chris and Monica before I took the short walk into the hall to ask everyone to take their seats.

Now was the moment of truth as I did a Brian Hanrahan and counted them all out as they entered the room. Once I had counted one hundred I breathed a sigh of relief. The weather that had done its best to defeat us, had lost.

I introduced the Eggheads individually and before introducing CJ I told the story of how the Eggheads came about as a result of a project called the Dream Team that I took part in the year before the series started. I remarked that when they were looking to replace me for the Eggheads gig the producers were looking for another multiple quiz show champion who was a member of Mensa and also incredibly good looking and I suggested as this was impossible they were forced to settle for CJ. Although this received the ironic laughter I had planned the truth is of course CJ is a member of Mensa and a multiple quiz show champion like myself and I have to very reluctantly admit that some might find him a little more aesthetically pleasing on the eye than myself - but please don’t tell him so.

At this point I was informed that Barry was waiting in the wings and so a hurried introduction as the winner of the 2008 series of Are You An Egghead? was made followed by the observation that as Barry had danced with Diana Ross and alongside Princess Anne in the past perhaps we might catch him on ‘Strictly’ next year! Anyone working on the show take note!

Before commencement of the quiz Roddard gave a short inspirational speech and then CJ, who really was most helpful throughout the evening, and at this point the worst nightmare of an MC occurred, the microphones began to die creating that all too familar Norman Collier staccato sound where only every other word is heard - which can be tricky when asking quiz questions. Jeremy Beadle had always taught me to check the mikes before the event and I used to take considerable time in doing so for him but I'm fairly sure the problem was with the direction of the two speakers and the raised platform in between them creating a feedback effect. However we soldiered on manfully, refusing to let this diminish the proceedings in any way and a great time was had by all.

The Eggheads were briefly headed by Harding’s Heroes after Round 2 but by the end of proceedings normal service was resumed although the last Wipeout round meant the Heroes, who won the main quiz proper, could have defeated the Eggheads with a full house but alas took one chance too many and blew out at the final hurdle.

There are so many people to thank for ensuring the evening was such a splendid success, not least of which are the seven children who worked so tirelessly all evening to supply my every demand and producing facts and figures as if by magic. In alphabetical order the Seven are: Alice who did the entire design for the raffles, all the packing, organisation, selling, lifted spirits, maintained order with the boys, didn't sit down for a second, worked so hard and had to leave early so received no on-night praise. Alice is quiet, consistent, reliable and positive. Alistair is a technical genius. He created a number of templates from flyer to quiz PowerPoint better than many professionals could ever hope to do. He integrated the music with PowerPoint, ran the entire quiz at the helm, flawlessly, didn't even stop to eat (stuffed a sandwich down his throat during the main meal) and is one of the most talented IT people on the planet! Geewai did the entire scoring spreadsheet system that worked beautifully, transferred scores precisely and meticulously. He is a mathematician, is persistent - he got Centrale on board for sponsorship - and modest. Matt is confident, calm, positive and organised. He drew up the guest lists, liaising with hotel staff, organised the tables, rooms, music, and sorted out all the technicalities. He was always willing to do anything, is helpful and always cheery. Omar is an excellent communicator. He gave a moving speech at half time, and is generally dogged and determined. He is a good motivator, positive, hard working and inspirational. Rodard gave a great opening speech. He was the lead negotiator, organiser, motivator, communicator and sales person. He exudes an air of calm authority and is very mature for his young years. Rodard made such an impressive pitch to a company (during a sales round) that he was offered a part-time job (which he took!) The company staff apparently booked a table but were unable to make it due to the snow unfortunately. I even spied Rodard selling raffle tickets on the night. Tevin lifted people's spirits on the evening. He is a creative wonder and created the promo video that was better than any professional promos I’ve seen and even Lucy at CiC admitted he produced something that she would find difficult to match. Tevin produced a lot of the technical stuff for the quiz and spent many hours downloading music and clipping them for integration. He worked tirelessly.

Another integral part of the team was Ms Mary Dalman who offered great support in the last week when numbers *due to snow threats* were dwindling. Mary checked the quiz, proofed it, prepared contingency plan when four tables cancelled, did the scoring, marking and didn't stop all evening and was completely invaluable and amazing. I had total confidence in her ability and I can tell you, having undertaken marking duties myself in years gone by, it is one of the most demanding jobs of all as the time pressure is enormous. Miss Preya Syal worked tirelessly all evening - walking for miles to get there from Sanderstead in the first place- and ensuring every detail was being looked after - from speeches to raffles - to collecting money and scoring. Ruth and Preya compliment each other so well and the children are very fortunate in having two such dedicated and innovative IT teachers. Wendy Nodding and Pam Bryan from Purley Cross Centre worked closely with the students and encouraged and supported them from start to finish. Although our paths never crossed during the run-up to the big day I had met them both several years ago when I attended my first Alpha Course at their church. What a small world it is. I’m very pleased to say that Pam won the Night at the Ritz – yippee. Robin Walker is the Croydon TV director. I arranged a meeting with him at his South Norwood offices prior to the event and was most impressed with his set-up. The small but very functional recording studio annexing the office was particularly impressive and was complete with travelling matte, probably better known to most of you as a 'blue screen' although if memory serves me Robin's back drop screen which can create almost any image you desire, was green. Robin is keen to encourage enterprise and collaboration between schools and schools and businesses. Robin gave a short talk on the evening and I must apologise on behalf of the hotel for his microphone dying on him midway through his speech. Of course we can watch back their edit of the night on Croydon TV when it is out and hopefully some of the mike problems will be magically eradicated. Jim Parrish is head of sixth form and gave a short conclusion at the end. Good to have him there and supporting his talented sixth formers. Joy Langley the Deputy Head Mistress who walked for miles to the venue, generally supported and even made phonecalls herself at the last minute in an effort to retrieve the situation when we had four tables cancel in rapid succession! Miss Langley motivated staff and students all the way through and was ever present. So important I feel for members of Senior Leadership to support students in innovation and enterprise - and this was done magnificently.

I understand the headmaster himself was stuck in Three Bridges but his support was very much appreciated and being from that neck of the woods myself I can vouch for the fact that conditions were foul to say the least with no buses, trains or planes available in the area.

I’d also like to thank on behalf of the school Alan Potter - Director for Education who was a great example by braving the conditions to support such a wonderful schools initiative. He was on a table with other Croydon Council employees - notably Paula Dunkley and Mike Smith (consultants in the 14-19 group) who were involved in providing support and inspiration for the Diplomas through 2009-10. Their help was invaluable and again, the fact they were there was amazing.

I know I’ve mentioned Lucy Porter previously but Lucy arrived early and was always encouraging and helpful before during and after the event and had to brave the elements to travel to the Oval immediately after the quiz.

Another lady I have already mentioned in passing but feel I have to give a special thank you to is Ruth Benjamin for being involved in every aspect of the planning of the event, being encouraging, inspirational and hard working well above and beyond the call of duty. This lady, who I know will not thank me for singing her praises (as she sent me an email asking me if I would write a blog on the event but ensure I do not mention her involvement) Ruth has a great relationship with Andrew and Preya and all seven of the students. She spent all of her spare time, and some of her unspare time in generally co-ordinating and was a woman on a mission. I know the children inspired her but I have no doubt she too inspired them.

And of course I must not forget the Eggheads themselves who always made themselves available for photographs and travelled vast differences in ridiculous and obscene conditions (and CJ for one had extreme difficulties getting home after his car had to be towed off the M4 at considerable cost to himself). I know each one of them sacrificed a lot to attend but it is a mark of the importance people like them attach to education that made me know that they would want to be involved. A huge thank you to Chris, Barry, CJ, Pat and Kevin. I hope they all managed to arrive home safely today as they are in the middle of a long winning streak at present : ) It is just a shame we didn’t have more time as Chris was going to entertain us with a song as he is a thrice weekly attendant at his local karaoke (you really don't know half the stuff these megabrains get up to) and I had organised a surprise game of table tennis between Pat Gibson, who was the captain of his university team and Ritchie Venner, the national vets champion who was part of the winning Harding's Heroes team. Having watched Ritchie play on innumerable occasions I had planned to make a killing on the fixed odds betting. It would have been such pleasant payback for all the times Pat pummels him on the Grand Prix circuit.

So that's about it. I'm sure I've forgotten someone but I would just like to add a few words of my own regarding the evening. I have lost count many moons ago at how many quizzes I have hosted and co-hosted with the likes of dear-departed greats such as Jeremy Beadle and Magnus Magnusson. Things have not always gone smoothly even with those class acts and on the only other occasion I personally had microphone problems I was heckled mercilessly and the comedian I had booked for the auction refused to go on and it ended in a near riot. I immediately had flashbacks when the unthinkable occurred but I needn't have worried as every single person in that room was so kind, focused and giving I can honestly say it was the most satisfying evening I have ever experienced in so many respects. To share the evening with old friends who I love and respect was reward enough but to make so many new friends on the night is something I don't usually experience at such gatherings so from a personal point of view I would like to thank all those at Archbishop Tenison who made this an event worthy of its name.

It will be some time before the actual profit margins are worked out as unfortunately there are always overheads involved in such ventures and I would like to thank all those people who decided to forego expenses and made donations from Grahame Harding down to the owner of the local school shop who very kindly donated two bottles of his best Champagne. I shall certainly post the aftermath details as I'm sure the school will on their website

God Bless you all

Trevor cycling a time trial in September after camping trip

2010-09-11T04:28:00.000-07:00

As the organisers of the SCCU 25 mile t/t were good enough to send me a pic of me in action on my bike I thought I'd post it.
Having had most of the year off with an infection in the undercarriage and frozen shoulder I had not intended to race this year but had such a great time on a recent camping/cycling holiday in Normandy I thought I'd see if the more leisurely cycling on an old mountain bike would transfer to a sound base for racing...It didn't and I struggled to a time of 65.02, but to be honest it was just great to be cycling again as a consultant had actually advised me to give it all up a few months ago.

The holiday I mention was run by Oak Hall, a Christian gathering based in Otford, Kent.

The great appeal of Normandy is the beautiful countryside and the lovely local architecture, including the ancient half-timbered buildings. The region also oozes history, from Mont Saint Michel to Chateau Gaillard; there is much attractive coastline to explore; and the important sights of the Normandy Landing beaches and the Bayeux tapestry are also very popular with visitors to the area.

I'm not sure if I have ever discussed the difference between happiness and joy but this holiday is one example of this difference. It rained most days, very heavily at times, I had some of my pretty cycling clothes stolen, was bitten mercilessly by some very unchristian mosquitoes and could not sleep for the first three days due to my shoulder problem and draughty tent. And so, although I cannot in all honesty say it was a totally happy experience, and I was sorely tempted to book into a cosy hotel when my tent was flooded, I can say that it was the most joyous holiday I have ever had.

The positives were numerous. The 70 of us all faced the adverse conditions together and I learnt an awful lot about myself and about camararderie, love, freedom and the tenacity and hardiness of my fellow Christians. In short we had tremendous fun in the face of adversity. We started the days with a morning worship and then split into groups to pray. We then cycled daily to some lovely French towns, Caen being my favourite with its beautiful fine arts gallery and splendid museum. The terrain was sometimes challenging even for an experienced rider and we did have one or two accidents along the way - but no tears. We ate well and every evening we had a bible study given by Paul, our leader, with the help of his very expressive wife Lizzie, and several other Oak Hallers. We sometimes played games afterwards or sometimes played one of the two guitars available. One night a few of us partook of the local Calvados and that was the first night I slept well!

I have so many great memories, one or two of which are highly embarrassing.

We were given locks for our hired bikes and were told to look after them and not to lose them - cue moi - after eating at the beautiful village of Beauvron we walked back to our bikes only for me to find I had mislaid my key and was unable to unlock my bicycle. Why me Lord? Fortunately Lizzie was not too far away in her car so it was a quick drive back to camp for the wire-cutters and then back to Beauvron to liberate my trusty steed. The car journey was great fun although I wondered if I had upset Lizzie at one point when mentioning (just after she had taken a corner at high speed) that my favourite Gospel song was Jesus Take The Wheel (about a girl who was just about to have a car accident after driving too fast). This was a coincidence I assure you - or was it a subliminal kneejerk reaction! Anyways I was offered a lift back to camp but decided to cycle back and there is no better way to learn local routes than to get yourself lost - and I did both - but arrived back safely in time for tea.......just.

The other misfortune that befell me was prompted by good intentions. The whole camp was suffering from damp clothes so I offered to spend an evening drying clothes in a not-so-hot spin dryer. It was a most enjoyable evening and Christine, my young sister-in-arms, taught me more about the subject of horses than I would ever need in any form of quiz while we were waiting for each 45 minute cycle to end. I eventually ran out of tokens so went back the next morning with the last two loads, mine and Heather's. Helen, the receptionist offered to do the dry for me and duly did so but when I returned after the day's cycle ride the clothes were all gone! Oh dear!

Paul and Lizzie are wonderful hosts - Paul is such an interesting guy - a disaster in every day life, quite clumsy and even a little gauche in some ways but when he is filled with the Spirit and starts preaching his words are inspirational and devout. I love him. Lizzie is equally eccentric in a different way. Her words of wisdom are very lyrical and delivered in a staccato fashion with hand gestures reminiscent of a trolley dolly. It is a beautful and contagious delivery we were all aping by the end of the week.

The other team members, James, Peter, Jennie (inspirational testimony), Rob, Chris (not forgetting his brother naughty Adam) and Matt (the demon cyclist who won the penultimate day time trial and generally ensured our bikes were in good working order and mapped our routes) were fantastic too. They introduced me to the joys of Irish Snap and Signs (which at one point almost turned me into a blubbering wreck) and generally allayed any misconceptions that Christians were boring.

Of course it was impossible to bond with all 69 fellow campers but I have great memories of my tent-mate Raymond (a lay preacher), Mark and David (two very gifted musicians), two Christines, two Rachaels, two Kens, Kathryn (soon to re-enact Gorillas in the Mist), Catriona and her tent-mate Hana (managed to get barred from a local restaurant), Ruth (my friend who entertained with her beautiful voice and guitar-playing as well as generally lifting spirits), Giedre (nasty accident on the final day but continued to smile), Niomh (voice of an angel), Rhys (a history teacher who actually loves history and takes part in re-enactments), Kim and Laura (my quiz team-mates who had the wherewithall to choose me for their team and then proceeded to get all the answers themselves), Niall, Olga, Debbie, Tom (a fine young man who knew no-one at the outset but seemed to be part of the team by day 2), Daniel (a club cyclist like myself who was very shaken all week as he had a nasty fall during a 100 mile t/t the week before, his girlfriend Heather (she whose clothes I managed to lose), Luke and his younger brother, and a white-haired gentleman who sat behind me on the coach and who always had a kind word to say about my eclectic choice of headgear (I never did find out his name and as I liked him so much I was too embarrassed to ask - not like me at all!). I have probably left out several other people I engaged with but my memory isn't what it was, suffice to say I loved them all.

Proof of the Holy Spirit abounded and on one evening I swear a miracle occurred. After going out to eat on our final evening Ruth, Catriona, Hana, Kathryn, Ken and myself arrived back at camp rather late and the gate was locked, Five of us managed to leg it over the top but Ken was having some problems due to his attire but just as all seemed lost the gate mysteriously flew open!

OK so it wasn't the feeding of the five thousand but I tell you - the hot chocolate sump never ran dry : ) Praise the Lord and God bless all those good people above and all those my errant memory has served to forget.

Let's Not Casterspersions

2010-08-23T05:34:00.000-07:00

There has been much written and said in the media this past year concerning the gender of the South African 800m runner Caster Semenya and the manner of her win at a meeting in Berlin last night has brought about more negative press response.

But is it justified?

The simple and honest answer is no of course but how on Earth did we ever get to a position where a female athlete has her very being questioned merely because she is different from the norm? Perhaps I might offer an opinion.

In a world where it used to be super cool to be an adherent of the Andy Warhol philosophy of form over substance, shallow imagery and mediocrity being an able substitute for real talent, it is now only cool, perhaps tepid, to be merely different from mainstream. The market has become satiated. The world of art has suffered aesthetically, the world of comedy has suffered humorously and the performing arts have suffered per se. Warhol was a purveyor of illusions, he sold the Emperor’s new clothes whilst wearing raggedy ones himself. He blinded our senses in such a masterful way we would prefer to look at his interpretations of everything from the mundane to the iconic rather than see the actuality. Sheer genius!

Warhol’s influence grew like Christianity, slowly at first with great gushes of inspirational artists each having their own devoted followings, but unlike Christianity the true message became distorted and disciples lost their way. You see, the message Warhol preached through his work was that individuals are interesting. Andy was an individual. He mocked the world. He turned himself into a glorified silk screen printer and churned out manufactured goods. He invented the word Superstar and eventually became one himself. He said everyone would one day be famous for 15 minutes and then the world set out to prove him right.

Andy Warhol preached individuality but, unlike Jesus Christ, he was never meant to be a role model. The problem is Andy’s followers imitated the man and in an effort to sustain and prolong the illusion of cool they drew on the negative energy of his message. So initially we were fortunate to have great free-thinking artists such as David Bowie and John Lennon who were influenced to varying degrees and no doubt would have found ways to express their genius in any case but unfortunately the next generation of less gifted adherents concentrated on Warhol’s perceived surliness and cynicism – which is where we are now.

If you have ever watched a David Bowie interview you will see a man who truly looks at life a little differently from other people, naturally and unforced, although somewhat tortured. I am loathe to give examples of the next generation of artists in this field, particularly as I am a big fan of the likes of Goldfrapp, Madonna and Lady GaGa, but all I’ll say is that art imitates life and living people definitely imitate artists.

The world’s media is the natural progression of Andy Warhol’s influence in all walks of life - Cynical, judgemental, caustic, irreverent, voyeuristic, duplicitous and downright cruel. The press have a vested interest in concentrating on the negative and quite often they will actually create the negative to pander to public taste that they themselves procured. It is a totally self-perpetuating money-making racket that has given us the likes of Katie Price as the ultimate page-filler when a story is required. Without Warhol there would be no Jordan.

As for Caster Semenya – she has now been proven to be a woman although I can’t think why it has taken so long. If I were to drop my pants I would automatically be disqualified to run against women! Her times are good but not manly. I have run much faster for my local Crawley athletics club and I was but a rank and file club athlete. Teenagers often improve in great leaps from year to year and her naturally gifted strength may just make her a precociously talented child. Of course if she begins to run under 1min 50sec for 800m and knocks 20 seconds off her 1,500m time thereby bringing an unnatural element to the table then her case might require monitoring again (hopefully behind closed doors) for future benefit but please let’s leave the poor girl alone and let her live her life. Another South African runner Oscar Pistorius has a similar problem to Caster Semenya and is almost certainly on the same hiding to nothing as the young teenager. The blade-runner is allowed to run against able-bodied athletes and is accepted all the time he is mediocre at international level but how quickly things will change if he ever became a world beater – and it is possible. I have watched him many times and his starts are so abysmal and the middle part of his race so good that I believe that if he stepped up to 800m he would be able to break the world record (incidentally, broken at the same Berlin meeting last night) and that would set the cat among the pigeons.

I for one will be cheering for Caster Semenya to win gold in Delhi later this year. She trains has hard as anyone else, she is not particularly attractive to human senses but so what – the bottom line is she has definitely not tried to defraud or cheat in any way – end of (a phrase I’m sure would not have existed but for Andy Warhol : )

Beadle and Bytheway - gone but not forgotten

2010-08-17T06:30:00.000-07:00

It was with mixed emotion I watched the Jeremy Beadle tribute on ITV last night.

Selfishly, I miss the great man as I can no longer call on him to help with some event that I might be involved with. At the moment I am putting together a charity event involving the celebrated Eggheads team, as part of the new schools 14-19 diploma initiative.

All the elements have Jeremy Beadle written all over them and he would have thrown himself into the event and ensured that I had no worries and the evening raised many thousands of pounds and a good time would be had by all.

Also quite selfishly I miss the vibe that Jeremy brought to every conversation we ever had, every situation, every meeting – positive, glowing, ambitious, enthusiastic and real.

Perhaps I didn’t learn too much new about Jeremy. I was actually working with the new production company of You’ve Been Framed just after Jeremy was dropped as presenter and I know, despite what David Liddiment might now say, the reason he was replaced was that they wanted someone cheaper!! This was typical showbiz false economy and with the best will in the world Lisa Riley found Jeremy a very hard act to follow.

I remember telling Jeremy this story and until then I had no idea how genuinely hurt and upset he was at this decision. You see Jeremy was not driven by money, although he could make it very easily, and he would have found a compromise.

In all honesty Jeremy was probably bigger than the show and it occurred to me that is probably why he didn’t get the opportunity to diversify into chat-show hosting.

Ironically, Jeremy kick-started the career of Jonathan Ross and yet he could have shown him a thing or two about interviewing techniques but when you are such a huge star, as Jeremy undoubtedly was, the public find it very difficult to accept you in another guise.

Jeremy was pigeon-holed as a prankster and yet he was one of the most knowledgeable men in television. Give me the choice between Jeremy and Stephen Fry for my quiz team and it would be Jeremy every time. Not to undermine Stephen’s qualities at all but I would know a lot of the comedian’s areas of speciality whilst Jeremy would always come up with the weird and wacky facts no one else would know.

Anyway, it was an ironic tribute from the company that let him down in a way, but all the same it was great to see Sue, Cassie and Bonnie in such good form and if I learnt anything at all it was that Jeremy was much sicker than he ever let on.

This programme made me think of another great friend who has just died prematurely.

Mark Bytheway was a similar animal to Jeremy in some respects. Great knowledge befitting a former World Quizzing Champion and current British champion, but a man who defies description such is his uniqueness and unpredictability. Blessed with an almost unequalled intellect Mark managed to live life to the full and balance the enforced lonely existence of a professional quiz player with bouts of gregariousness only known to those errant ‘never miss a session’ drinking types. Not your average world champion was Mark, but fiercely loyal and respectful. He quizzed with Jeremy too and on one occasion actually had Jeremy literally hurling trivial pursuit questions at him whilst he was cycling for dear life – don’t ask!

Mark also had an infectious enthusiasm which couldn't help but rub off on you and on many occasions we played in a team together and he involved me in professional 'quiz attacks' long before we had a recognised circuit. We had great successes together and just loved it when a plan worked. It is difficult to describe Mark's personality but imagine if Jeremy was Hannibal then Mark would be Murdoch!

I literally couldn't get to Mark's funeral, which has played heavily on my mind, but I loved him like a brother and know that his partner Jo has a magnificent support system in his local Swindon quiz fraternity and in particular my old friends Tim Westcott and Eric Kilby. I would occasionally play D'artagnan to their Three Musketeers but they were true brothers-in-arms.

RIP Jeremy and Mark - your like will never be seen again

Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?

2010-08-06T16:22:00.000-07:00

I am probably in the minority but I actually like the revamped Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

I know the excitement of fastest finger has been taken away and to some extent the unravelling of personality as the wretched contestants no longer squirm in the chair for inordinate lengths of time (at least not for the early timed-questions), but judging by the one show I’ve seen so far, the contestants have been chosen very well and are most deserving.

It is an open secret that many of the changes were forced upon the production team by highly professional quiz syndicates who worked together to spread the wealth. This in itself was a very sensible exercise in my opinion but one that was open to abuse when taken to extreme measures.

To offer my experience of the show as an example might help to clarify.

I was not part of a syndicate and made my five calls to the show myself and also my five internet entries. I struck lucky. I must admit that subsequent to this I did receive some help by the pros who had heard about my good fortune. It was for instance a great help to be able to practice the fastest finger on a simulated machine and this did help my confidence although I should add that on my big night I was the only one of the ten contestants to get the question correct so speed was not of the essence.

After bumbling my way to the 32K question I decided to ask the audience on a question that I felt quietly confident I knew, until that is the result came back and 94 per cent of the audience disagreed. I went with the overwhelming verdict of the audience before Chris called for an ad break and I remained in my chair feeling rather smug.

Chris gave me no signs whatsoever and when we returned from the break and he looked in my eyes and said “It’s the wrong answer” I was momentarily taken aback although wore my best poker face.

At the time I felt a little aggrieved at Chris because he constantly wound the audience up by telling them I was definitely going to win a million and even when I pleaded for the audience not to press unless you know the answer for sure Chris interjected “they’re not going to take any notice of that, they’re on national television”

I mentioned this story to Chris’s PA last week but what I failed to mention was that Chris’s unprofessional approach probably only made a very slight difference to the skewed result - the largest wrong answer in the history of the show!

A few days after the show aired I received an email from an audience member who expressed her sorrow at my loss and explained to me that someone in the audience had told her the wrong answer and she pressed accordingly. No names were mentioned but the description of the individual did fit someone I knew to be in a syndicate and I had met in the queue for the recording a few hours before the show. A few further enquiries made it perfectly clear what had happened and at least it allayed my fears that the whole audience hated me. It seems this person, a big winner himself, had a history of thwarting the chances of non-syndicate members by pressing for wrong answers and this is the ugly side of syndication I'm afraid.

I can see the funny side of it though. This chap actually had the chutzpah to come up to me immediately after the recording to commiserate and assure me he had pressed the correct button (one of only six per cent it seems!). He still remains blissfully unaware that I know what happened but what the heck I would not fall out over something so trivial as money. On the positive side at least I knew that the production company had not stitched me up or the whole of the studio audience hated me : )

One of the nine other contestants on my show was a Mr Ingram Wilcox, a very accomplished quiz player. Ingram had made the final ten several times but had not made it into the chair so it was fantastic to watch him finally succeed in 2006 and walk away with the million.

Speaking of millionaires, I read Bill Gates’ views today in the newspaper and agree that if only billionaires would give just half their wealth towards alleviating poverty then we could wipe out so much of the unnecessary suffering in this world. It occurs to me that no one really cares about those less fortunate people otherwise the rich would not be getting richer and the poor poorer. Third world countries have no say and have been abandoned I’m afraid. I would cap wealth at a million personally. We are so fortunate in the west, and in this little island in particular, but it is time Governments, perhaps the UN, stepped up to the mark and came up with a plan to make life more equal around the world. I often feel ashamed to be human on so many levels. We cannot be trusted to do the right thing, NEPOTISM in all its guises creates corruption and when nepotism is practised as a nation then spiritual chaos is all that's left.

Thank God for Michael Bloomberg, David Rockefeller, Warren Buffet, George Soros, Charles Feeney, Ted Turner, Oprah Winfrey, Eli and Edythe Broad, John and Tashia Morgridge, George Lucas, T Boone Pickens, Barry Diller and Diane Von Furstenberg, Baron Hilton, Ronald Perelman, Larry Ellison and of course Bill Gates. I understand all these people have pledged half their wealth and they are also preaching the merits of philanthropy to other billionaires. I would go a step further and ask people with two million to donate one of those million. The benefits are indescribable. Wealth is an illusion - a drug like any other. Striving is important - beneficial - poverty prevents creativity, motivation, ambition and drive. It causes criminal tendencies. We need to strike a balance but this is beyond human collectivity. Governments need to tax the super rich for their own good and the good of the world. It is obvious.

I agree with everything Prince Charles says about saving our planet but the truth is it will all be in vain unless we change as a people.

Sorry to end on such a serious note

As I write I have the radio on in the background and here are three jokes I have just heard

1) I hate those little Russian matryoshka dolls - they are so full of themselves!

2) My friend got a job in a bowling alley today. “Ten pin” I asked. “No” he replied “permanent!”

3) There was a young lady from Saigon who felt Limericks were three lines too long

Long Live Doctor Who?

2010-07-06T15:55:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me today that I might well be unique inasmuch as I am fairly sure I have seen every episode of Doctor Who since that very first episode on the day after President Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. I say fairly sure because even to me it seems quite fantastic that in those days before video recorders I consistently managed to transpire to be in front of a television set on a Saturday evening. I must be deluding myself I know but I honestly believe that I have never missed a single one. I was hooked from the moment my father called us kids down to watch the very first episode An Unearthly Child. The child of the title was in fact the Doctor’s granddaughter Susan Foreman, who excelled in some subjects at school but showed a distinct lack of knowledge in others to the dismay of her teachers Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright. Susan went to school in 1960’s Britain because she was stranded on Earth due to a malfunctioning TARDIS. The puzzled teachers followed Susan home one day and saw her disappear into a police telephone box situated in an old junkyard. Thus began the longest-running, and finest, sci-fi series of all time.

I was already a great fan of CS Lewis and the Narnia Chronicles so was used to the concept of snow-covered lands at the back of wardrobes but the TARDIS was such a brain-stretcher, it remains the same fascinating concept today as it was then. To see Ian and Barbara walk in and then walk out and around, as virtually every other assistant has done so since, before commenting “but it’s bigger on the inside” ensured a life-long addiction. At nine-years-old I bought the books and watched the Peter Cushing films and remember being so upset when William Hartnell turned into Patrick Troughton. Although William Hartnell will always be the best Dr Who for me, as he was the first, I soon enjoyed all the subsequent incarnations, in equal measure – they all brought something to the table and the character is so iconic, and complex, that it is almost impossible to miscast an actor in the role.

I remember settling down to see the second episode on the 30 November 1963 and was absolutely gobsmacked when the first episode was shown again. This was not advertised in the newspapers and we merely thought it was a mistake but the relief and joy when the second episode was shown immediately after has gone down in history as one of those iconic television moments. After a brief visit back to the cave-dwelling troglodytes we were transported to Skaro and the civil war between the Daleks and Thals. We were then transported to distant planets or to different time periods on Earth, always meeting the famous people of the day such as Marco Polo. I remember one storyline, The Celestial Toyroom, which literally terrified me as it became apparent that even the doctor was a mere pawn at the hands of the toymaker.

Why do I mention my love for the programme now?

My dear friend Gavin Fuller won Mastermind answering questions on Doctor Who and is far more knowledgeable about the programme than I could ever be but poor Gavin was born after the series began and so has to have a distorted view of the whole. Most fans tend to love the doctor who was incumbent at the time of their first cognisant viewing. Can someone who did not live through the 60s really appreciate The Beatles, or begin to understand their effect on humankind? It is the same with Doctor Who to a lesser extent, but in the same way as I had become slightly disillusioned with Paul McCartney since the McCartney/Lennon debacle and the Heather Mills thing I had also become slightly miffed at the way Doctor Who had been heading. Although the actors have been incredibly gifted since its return unfortunately the writers had made it almost a parody of itself with constant implied references to its iconic stature – and then along came Steven Moffat to breathe new life and spark. I watched the final series episode last weekend and was moved to tears for the first time in years. Steven is an incredible talent and probably the most underrated writer in Britain. Joking Apart was one of the best ever comedies on television. It was original and funny and so intelligently well written it was almost a scandal that it did not clean up on the awards front. Anyone who has a stand-up comedian as a friend will know what a nightmare these people can be off stage. It is part of what makes people laugh at them and Joking Apart portrayed this beautifully although making the leading protagonist something of a misunderstood hero too.

I am so looking forward to the next series of Doctor Who when I assume River Song (played surprisingly well by Alex Kingston) will play a fairly prominent role as her mysterious relationship with the doctor unravels.

Unlucky England footballers but Long Live Doctor Who!

Good health to you all but what does that mean?

2010-06-18T03:22:00.000-07:00

I feel a little ashamed today.

I saw the surgeon the other day about the lump in my perineum area. He was a very affable man and began our conversation with a cheery “How are you?” which I always find a very strange opening gambit by a doctor as I quite obviously would not have the pleasure of his company if I were well!

Mr Williams was direct and no messing about at all – internal examination, MRI scan booked, advice and leaflets on a side issue of pruritus – oh and he advised me never to cycle again!!
A bit of an over-reaction I thought so I did the usual sportsperson thing and looked for someone who could tell me that this prognosis was nonsense. Alas I failed and the second opinion concurred with the first!!!

Although he hadn’t had my scan result yet the good doctor confirmed to me in writing that in his opinion the subcutaneous swelling can only be alleviated by non-cycling – possibly forever!
Reading those dramatic words panicked me a little as at my advanced age there is very little else I can do to keep fit and I am one of those sad creatures that feels the need to look after the body I was blessed with. Saying that, I am very aware that this desire for physical fitness is a mental condition and only last summer an eminent cardiologist told me that in his opinion I am as much a junkie as someone who injects heroin into their veins every day!

Again this doctor was quite wrong. I would not jeopardise my health by over-exercising and would/could stop if I were forced to.

At the moment I have compromised with the surgeon and agreed to change my saddles and have purchased a couple of odd-looking purpose-built perineum-friendly saddles that I shall relish testing when I am completely healed.

I had an appointment to get my ears syringed today at my local surgery and as I waited at reception I exchanged greetings with one of the doctors . His opening remark was “how are you?”.
I was inclined to respond “ apart from my two blocked ears, tinnitus, SVT, bad back, dodgy shoulder, calf and Achilles strains and the very depressing prognosis of my perineum infection – I’m not so bad”.
Of course I did the British thing and merely replied “fine thank you and how are you?”. The brief pause before his reply of “not so bad” told me that he was probably suffering worse than I at the moment!

Anyway, as per usual the nurse would not unblock my glue ears as they are forever pink and scaly so I just have to put up with deafness until they magically clear. I say as per usual as I have been referred for syringing several times recently but never actually managed to get the deed done for the aforementioned reason. I have been living in this strange world of muffled hearing every morning when I wake and it is quite disorientating. I go through a routine of trying to unblock them with a hot flannel and have had some success on good days but more often than not fail miserably so resort to pouring olive oil in them. This is the recent innovation in ear wax dispersion, the olive oil softens the wax and makes it easier to syringe out – although in my case it is back to the flannel.

Despite these irritating niggles I am actually in rude health and am always acutely aware that so many people have to confront real health issues which devastate their lives and they sometimes have no hope of reprieve.

You see the obsession with physical fitness tends to make all athletes finely tuned and just one short step away from hypochondria. I remember the actress Sheila Hancock saying once when being interviewed and asked about her health “mind you I’ve never felt quite right all my life– have you?” This sums up the condition of the inveterate exerciser.
Two old friends and fellow competitors in very different fields have been struggling with cancer recently.

I read today in the obituaries that Andy Ripley OBE finally succumbed to prostate cancer after a five-year battle with the disease. Andy was a one-off, a true extrovert. After his fantastic international rugby union career was ended so abruptly in 1976 he came to the Crawley area to live with his wife, Elizabeth and three young children and began to train with us although competing for Luton Polytechnic. I got to know him very well and loved his eccentricity and laid-back attitude. He would often spend his time playing with his children before training sessions and then just step on the track to complete an interval session. We often competed against each other in the Southern League where we would invariably both start the day in the 400 hurdles move on to the shot putt and then usually end up doing the high hurdles and relays. Andy was an inspiration to all around him and certainly inspired me to take up fitness competitions and indoor rowing after he won the World Superstars title in 1980 and numerous rowing titles throughout the nineties. You see Andy just loved keeping fit and had no airs and graces about his international career. I find it unusually upsetting that Andy is no longer with us as he was so full of life and I felt his work on earth was not yet complete – perhaps it was.

An old quizzing friend of mine, Mark Bytheway, was diagnosed with cancer two years ago and last October was told he might not make it to Christmas but in typical Mark fashion he has fought on defiantly and although now in a hospice he is fighting valiantly and even managed to enjoy the England versus USA game the other day with some old mates and a beer. Mark is a former British and World Quizzing champion and as much a one-off as Andy was. Mark is not your stereotypical quiz player. He can be bold and brash, brave, hard-drinking fearless but always brilliant. I remember Beadlebum had this great idea of asking all-comers to compete against me on an indoor bike whilst being asked trivial pursuit questions (only Jeremy could think that one up!) and Mark stepped onto the bike wearing his everyday clothes and proceeded to ride a faster time than all the other competitors despite never doing a jot of training. Only the other day Kev Ashman and I went to see Mark with another friend, Nigel. Mark was looking awful, jaundiced bright yellow and constantly vomiting black bile. He hadn’t spoken for a couple of hours as he was exhausted. Kev and Nigel were discussing Pat Gibson’s choice of Mastermind subject, the Pixar films, and had decided that it was not too difficult a subject as there were only nine of them. As we looked at Mark his fist began to open and then close and then open again. Mark was informing Nigel and Kev (the multi-world quiz champion) that there were 10 Pixar films to-date!! And of course he was quite right – sheer genius!

Now you see why I began this blog telling you I felt ashamed.

The most important aspect of our wellbeing is spiritual health – the physical state is often perceived by us to be vital in overcoming life’s vicissitudes when in fact a strong spiritual base can alleviate much of the grief experienced in our everyday lives. I know this sounds contradictory that on the one hand I admit the need for physical exercise as I clearly function better when serotonin levels are high but on the other hand I am saying that a strong relationship with God can make one feel full of joy whatever the physical condition might be. Jesus Himself was always surprised that man placed physical wellbeing in front of spiritual enlightenment.

Only one aspect of my Christian spirit can I feel confident about. You see among many other things Christianity is a desire. An earnest desire to walk in the shadow of our Lord Jesus and emulate his nature. A desire to do good, be good, see good in all people. A desire to put aside one’s original sin and natural evilness to reflect in an open and fair manner. A desire to be tolerant and to love and to forgive if sinned against in the same way that we ourselves have been forgiven.

Christians have this desire and try not to let their natural sinful nature destroy relationships. They inevitably fall short and cannot always find the right words or actions as they are fickle.
Although I am a Catholic I sometimes visit other churches than my local Friary to witness other Christians and sometimes other faiths. I visited the Crawley Baptist Church last week and had a wonderful evening. The first Sunday in each month is open house for all Crawley churches and the congregation tends to be like-minded in its respect for the Church in general. The visiting minister stated a very true fact about humans. He said “trust can take years to build what suspicion can destroy in an instant”. Perhaps we do not trust enough. Perhaps we are too suspicious. Why can we not accept that we are going to cock up now and then but remain trusting and in a loving relationship. It is suspicion that prevents true forgiveness. Suspicion of motives, suspicion of a lack of respect, suspicion of repentance, suspicion of true sorrow. We hear the expression ‘benefit of the doubt’ and yet we do not know what it means as we rarely give it. WE ALL FALL SHORT. I personally fall so short that I spend my whole life inwardly cringing at things I have said or done when not in the spirit. You see I have the desire but am constantly striving against temptation and my physical stubborness.

So how can we be Christians when we continue to sin all the time in the knowledge that Jesus was totally and uniquely sinless?

We profess our Christianity as a statement of fact because we believe that Jesus, the man on earth, son of God in heaven, died for our sins on the cross two thousand years ago because God so loved the world he gave His only begotten son so we might have the opportunity for eternal life, the kind of life that every single one of us would want if given the choice free from the shackles of sin. To understand what I mean perhaps just think of what we call the seven deadly sins and think if you have ever transgressed. Now imagine a situation where you had a different mindset and all those attractive sins such as lust and greed were banished from your mind because there would be nothing to be greedy for or lust after as you would be consumed by love – Is it now possible for you to imagine how a community might exist with a hierarchy and infrastructure better than the present one and how this ideal is carved indelibly into the soul of every true Christian – and no we are not Stepford beings we have freewill and character too. You see we want to be there to see this spectacle, we want to serve our Father as He serves us. We have passion and desire, we remain undaunted when things go wrong for us, we cock up but try and rebuild where possible and where not possible then we pray for God’s grace. We don’t need to see miracles (although all of us probably wish we could witness a supernatural event merely to satisfy our desire to shove it up all those smug atheists) because we understand the importance of faith, that intangible trust and hope that all non-believers would have you believe makes us fools and yet without faith God cannot know you or have faith in you as what have you shown Him? What have I shown Him? My desire is not enough - I am mindful of my old school motto Facta Non Verba (deeds not words).

I pray that Andy and Mark will by the grace of God find a place in Heaven. Two great men on Earth, one no longer with us the other in the twilight of his time (we all still hope for a miracle but thy will be done).

Life is cyclical but not for me!

2010-04-30T07:52:00.000-07:00

March came in like a lion and went out like a lamb for me.

Professionally, I managed to all but finish a very thorough update of my A to Z of Everything for an October publication and am now eagerly awaiting the General Election results to complete the task.

Socially, I was flying around on my bike and with two solid months of cycling behind me I was beginning to leave my fellow Crawley Wheelers in my wake up the hills – the ability to climb hills bizarrely being the benchmark for respect within any cycling club. I say bizarrely because we only have one hill climb race per year so the ability to beat another rider to the top of a hill is far less important than the ability to hug a wheel or turn a huge gear or win the sprint to a post!
I had intended to ride to France last weekend with several of my team-mates but disaster struck mid- March. In an effort to ensure I would not struggle on the French ride to Boulogne-sur-Mer I rode a 100-mile training ride – my first ever!

After completing the ride quite comfortably I retired to bed only to wake up shivering an hour later. The shivering turned to fever and a feeling of dehydration and on rising I realised I had a very painful swelling in my nether regions. To cut a long story short I had managed to pick up some sort of infection and although various antibiotics prevented anything too nasty occurring I have been left with a rather painful calloused lump that simply will not disburse so is going to have to be removed surgically. So after managing to negotiate the cold winter months relatively painlessly (I did come a cropper on the ice in February) I am now off the bike as we approach the spring and summer months.

In mid-April a friend from Purley died and I was asked to arrange the funeral and put his house in order so to speak. This was obviously very sad but gave me an opportunity not to wallow in my own misery by being focused on making the arrangements for the send-off of a much-loved man.

Unfortunately, I broke the basic rules of lifting whilst doing a spot of house clearing and managed to tweak something in my lower back. So after not being able to sit down at my desk for the past six weeks due to my lump I now cannot sit down at my desk due to back strain! Happy Days!

Strangely, it has not been such a bad month. I have managed to get through more work than usual, answer all my backlog of mail and I have even caught up on some much-needed Bible study. I also took time out last Sunday to watch my friend, Ritchie Venner, annihilate the field to win the Southern Vets table tennis championship. Bolstered by a narrow defeat to British No 1 Paul Drinkhall, Ritchie was in inspired form and only dropped a couple of games in the whole tournament, and such was his superb form the other bamboozled finalist actually conceded before the end of the match!

I also found time to watch a recording of the World Junior ten-dance championships in Moscow. A cycling chum, Andy Duffin, had recorded the event as his two sons were competing and it was great to see young talent flourishing in a competitive but sporting environment. Young William Duffin and his partner Amy look like stars of the future and placed a highly-commendable 32nd out of 64 finalists.

My friend Bev invited me to a quiz at Nutfield Priory, nr Redhill and my winning prize was a couple of vouchers for a free back massage – perfect timing given my current position!

My only disappointment is that I had also hoped to walk in the footsteps of my hero, Jesus, whilst off the bike but the planned trip to Jerusalem in May coincides with the General Election stats and proofreading duties so will have to be placed on hold.

It is nice sometimes to step back and smell the roses as they say. I have tended to get into the habit of working all God’s hours and when not at my desk I’d be planning my training routines on my turbo or I’d be out trying to knock off a few seconds off my time up Box Hill. With the enforced rest I was now finding time for the theatre, films, a couple of quizzes, some television and I even sussed out a new church. The funny thing is after a few weeks the perspective comes back into your life and you realise that life goes on without cycling and it is good.

We humans are creatures of habit and when these habits are altered we become stressed and anxious until we step back and realise that our habits are actually a negative thing in many ways.

My friend who died was a great collector. Malcolm had huge collections of stamps, cigarette cards, books, cigar labels, scissors!, watches, and money...........yes money, not foreign money or rare coins but sterling coins. Eccentric perhaps but the product of an orderly mind or at least that is the perception. I am in awe of these collections but realise that these obsessions are the same ones as I used to suffer from. I also used to be a collector – of cigarette cards, coins, books, magic tricks, comics, classical vinyl records, playing cards, and the most bizarre one of all writing implements! Everything from quill pens to coloured chalk – what was that all about?

These things are all just habits – safe havens for us to escape into when feeling insecure or not in sync with the rest of the universe. The lesson I learnt and am relearning now is that none of us are islands. Things that seem important to us have little impact on the cosmos generally. What is important is that we have a perspective on life and how we use our waking hours.

Yes on the whole it has been a great past couple of months

Battle of Hustings!

2010-04-06T03:28:00.000-07:00

As a result of Laura Moffatt standing down as our local MP we had the Comedy Club Roadshow, better known as Crawley CLP Hustings, last night at the Civic Hall.

A week ago I had planned to vote for my friend Chris Oxlade, as I knew we didn’t really have any other local members who could gain populace votes in the constituency. I did have reservations as I knew he wasn’t really very well versed politically but the local Labour Party mafia were extolling his virtues so I felt they must be ready to groom him.
However, as these things sometimes happen, I subsequently received an email from one of the two National Executives’ choice of candidate, Sonia Sodha. This young lady was obviously going places. She ticked all the boxes as a model candidate for Crawley: young, highly-intelligent, motivated, articulate, passionate, friendly but determined and as luck would have it she had two Asian parents.

Now this last ‘quality’ might seem irrelevant but the truth is at every other meeting I have attended the past few years the subject of the “apathy of our 15 per cent Asian community” has been raised. “If only we could second someone they could identify with so that they might feel that they have a voice” is a phrase I have heard on numerous occasions – and so naturally I was very excited to find when I actually did my homework on Sonia she surpassed all my expectations.
I sat through a two-hour video of her giving evidence to a Westminster select committee on a subject close to my heart – Education. I was interested in this as I happen to have been seconded onto a Croydon Schools steering committee for the new Government Diploma initiative which begins in the autumn term 2010.
I phoned Sonia to question her on this and other aspects of education as well as find out what she knew about Crawley itself as she lived some 15 miles outside the borough.
Again Sonia did not disappoint. She was well aware of all the local issues regarding our lack of full hospital services, unemployment, airport expansion, Asian apathy, and she even knew all about the disreputable opposition candidate Henry Smith and his lack of pothole funding! (if only he would contribute some of his unnecessary expenses of the past year he might at least retarmac the High Street outside the Town Hall – it is a disgrace!).

I realise I am known more for my ability to answer quiz questions and to solve lateral thinking problems but I believe my real talent is my ability to assess the merits of people. Not all types of people and not on all occasions but just sometimes I can spot a good one. It is not a psychic thing, not a gut feeling as such (although this is often as I describe it) it is simply a series of subtle judgements I am able to make given the person’s body language, manner, background, speech and general mien. Another words I muster the same skills as I use on Mensa tests or any of those quizzes I used to take part in a few years ago.
Anyway, I saw the flashing green lights with Sonia and knew I had to do something.
I wrote to Colin Moffatt, a respected local member, to air my views. I phoned Ian Weller, Chris Redmayne, Chris Mullins, the local party office and anyone else who would listen. I could hardly come out and say I KNOW we have a potential Prime Minister in our midst so I tried to be a little more subtle and ask for their opinions whilst managing to offer my own view. I did not hear back from Colin and after the disgraceful behaviour last night I now know why. Mr Weller also had already made his mind up but the two Chris’s were willing to be swayed at the Hustings (thank God I thought).

We had five candidates all speaking for 10 minutes, the first four were all good although Sonia was quite remarkable and not only gave a rousing speech but also handled the ten-minute question session impeccably. I watched the near 140 audience members nod with her and clap her as she went along. I listened to the loudest cheer of the evening both when she finished her speech and her Q & A session. I punched the air as she strode off the stage………..Surely every single person in that hall could see what I saw?

The last candidate was Chris Oxlade and his ten-minutes were different from the other four inasmuch as he spent a lot of the time reiterating what we already knew about him from his CV. The question-session that followed was an unmitigated disaster and time after time Chris was unable to offer any personal opinion whatsoever and seemed not to understand the purpose of the evening. It was embarrassing at the time and I felt for him very much. He is an absolutely lovely lad and I broke convention last June by speaking on his behalf before voting took place to elevate him to the council representing my own area of Bewbush. This was a no-brainer for me as the man is a legend locally, has his own show on Radio Mercury on Saturday mornings and the popularity coupled with a media outlet is EXACTLY what you want locally. Unfortunately this does translate into candidacy for prospective MP!! Debating skills are necessary, ability to think on your feet without pondering and above all an awareness of the bigger picture. I knew Chris did not possess these qualities in abundance although a week earlier I was prepared to give him my vote as I felt his other qualities might make his position tenable.
Chris’s performance last night made it impossible to vote for him and the woman supporter (who I shall not name out of respect for a very high-profile member of the party) who spent the whole of Chris’ speech whooping and hollering through every faux pas and clapping and cheering every errant word in a vain attempt to hoodwink the audience into believing this was the Messiah we were listening to, should be ashamed of herself and the disgrace she brought on her family. This woman even shouted down a lady questioner at one point when she tried to ask if Chris felt he was up for the job. Fortunately for Chris this wasted some time but the real killer blow came within the last 90 seconds when the final questioner asked “what is your view on Casino Capitalism?” I was feeling so sorry for my friend by now that I was somewhat relieved when the vague expression and sweated brow was now replaced by a wry grin. “What is my view on Casino Capitalism?. Where shall I start” Chris was then given the one minute reminder and it became clear that this was either going to be a killer reply or something was very wrong. I had worked out by now that Chris didn’t have a clue what the term meant but couldn’t understand why he didn’t ask Roy to explain the term. It would be no disgrace and it is a fair bet that he wouldn’t be the only candidate that didn’t understand the term. But alas no, Chris preferred to remain silent and never uttered another word until the timekeeper called time. Chris was given sympathetic applause and I shall not repeat what some of my fellow members commented on his performance but suffice to say the neutrals were blissfully unaware that the hustings meant nothing.

The count came back and Chris beat Sonia by one vote!

Well done the Crawley Labour Party – I have never felt so ashamed since I hosted the British Quiz championships ten years ago and had to announce a skewed result because someone had added an unedited and unseen final round which probably cost Kev Ashman the title, although the winner was indeed a very worthy champion.
Chris Oxlade is also a worthy champion. The party says so! It is just a plain and simple fact that the best person for the job did not win. Of course I shall back Chris, and indeed have spent the Easter weekend delivering leaflets around town on his behalf, but I shall always know at the back of my mind that we could have done something great for our town but failed miserably!

Whatever Sonia does next I know we all support her in Crawley. We all wish her the best and I for one hope and pray another vacancy comes up in the future before she is snapped up by another constituency.

It's a sad sad situation

2010-03-24T15:39:00.000-07:00

I received two sad letters this week.

The first was from my local MP Laura Moffatt informing me she was standing down and not fighting the next General Election.

I admit I shed a tear.

We have been friends for the past ten years and in that time I have seen her in action on numerous occasions. Selfless, passionate, honest, loyal, trustworthy, hard-working, dynamic and warm-hearted are just a few adjectives that trip off my pen with ease.
Laura was a politician that always went that little bit further than most others. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays she would often arrive home after midnight and her weekends were more often than not a mixture of surgeries and charity work. Despite our Tory-biased local press often misrepresenting her most people knew that the local hospital where she nursed for two decades would not still be open if it were not for her efforts.
We were very confident Laura would retain her seat despite having the smallest majority of all MPs at the last election – now we shall never know!
I feel a little light has gone out in my world and I wonder if we shall ever see the likes of Laura Jean Moffatt again – she was, and remains of course, a true one-off.

The second letter I received (or rather an email) was from an old pal, Tim Selby, who has just had a very serious cycling accident and is now paralysed from the waist down.
The accident was not caused by a pothole or during difficult driving conditions but by a combination of a cross wind and an intimidatory passing lorry causing him to take evasive action onto the grass and back onto the road in front of a different lorry!
As a cyclist myself I feel a mixture of anger and sadness. I have had similar incidents myself and only by the grace of God am I alive to write this blog.
We are told to ‘THINK BIKE’ but in this country most motorists think only PEST and rarely do I complete a ride without some near miss or heart-stopping moment. The Government continually tell us to use our bikes but do parents really want their children to risk their lives on our roads with all the uneducated motorists about.
Even with the roads in the state of repair that they are in we are constantly tooted and screamed at if we are more than a foot from the Kerb! Don’t these people know that we are much happier near the kerb but it is not always possible to ride there because of badly-damaged roads, ill-fitting drain or protruding man-holes.
It is a very British problem at the moment as anyone who has ever ridden on the Continent will tell you. In many countries of Europe it is normal to ride two abreast never having to worry about traffic as motorists will pass when they are able and are happy to sit behind a group of cyclists until an opportune time to overtake. In England the mentality is very different – it is frustration and scorn – and we feel it – and yes we are intimidated – scared if you like.
I had a guy overtake me last week near my home and he actually cut me up so badly his offside wheels went up the kerb and I was forced to jump up onto the kerb to avoid his wheels! The guy pulled into the local shops 100 yards ahead and I followed him into the car park to enquire what it was all about. He got out of his van and started swearing away that it was a 20mph speed limit (I had just completed a training ride and was poodling down my street at a little above walking pace!). I told him I had a groin strain and that having to ride up the kerb was not aiding the healing process. More swear words followed to the effect that he couldn’t care less and I was left standing there with hands on hips flabbergasted. He walked away and then turned around and said “I suppose you are going to report me now” to which I assured him I had no intention of doing. My only thought was to try and understand the thought process but it became clear that there was no thought process, no motive, no reason, just a very bad tempered bloke who for that moment in time decided to scare me witless.

But you see that is all it takes.

Tim was a social rider and one of the most talented snooker players I have ever seen. At the moment all he can think of is his wife and four children and although he does have some hope for regaining partial feeling he will never walk unaided and yet no one feels responsible. It was just an accident! In his heart of hearts I wonder if the lorry driver that caused the initial wobble (didn’t stop and was never found) has any regrets.
It is no fun driving on our roads but I have had several friends from my local cycling club, Crawley Wheelers, killed and maimed in the ten years I have ridden with them.
I know the risks but at the moment I am feeling that if I survive white-van-man then the state of the roads will probably do for me!

I’ll pray for Tim’s recovery but I’ll also pray for the hearts of man to change

Stick to the Numbers game Carol....please

2010-03-24T14:36:00.000-07:00

Let me set my stall out from the start – I am NOT a political animal although I do support my local MP (this I would do irrespective of what party she represents as I just happen to believe that she has done a magnificent job in my home town of Crawley).
Watching Question Time is about as far as I am prepared to go in keeping abreast of party politics and very often it is only the views of the audience rather than the panel that I ever truly respect (with some notable exceptions). This was never more apparent than in last week’s show where panellists included former Countdown presenter Carol Vorderman and journalist and self-styled flâneur Will Self.
I really do hate being negative, or cruel, or in fact saying anything at all when it is not positive BUT it is difficult not to comment on the BBC’s judgement in inviting another television presenter on to a political show when they are clearly way out of their depth. Having the overtly erudite Will Self seated on your right must be very intimidating but Carol was lulled into a sense of false security by having the affable and more subtly gifted Boris Johnson seated to her left (I am in fact a huge Boris fan as he tends to be that all too rare commodity HONEST). What followed in the course of the hour was so cringe-making it made Carol’s Strictly appearance only the second worst career move she has ever made. From the moment her glasses were donned one could feel this was going to be an intellectual car crash.
Carol is of Conservative persuasion. She is Blue through and through. She is also blind to the arguments of any other political party in the same way as some religious zealots are blinded by their own truths to the detriment of other perfectly rational truths. Unfortunately when someone says black and you scream back WHITE it does not instil great confidence in what that person has to offer as a viable solution to any problem.
Carol appeared to have spent the evening learning her diatribe against anyone or anything non-Tory. She was not going to be swayed by reasoned argument and clearly was unable to get involved in a serious verbal joust with the highly-skilled but, fortunate for her, benevolent Self (on this occasion – maybe he is a Countdown fan!) but what she didn’t realise was her haranguer style had reduced the Mayor of London to a seemingly embarrassed state of catatonia.
Of course Carol is a member of Mensa and has a high IQ, which probably gives me as much right as anyone to question the wisdom of this booking as I too am a member of Mensa, but contrary to public perception all this means is that we have the ability to solve meaningless puzzles (or as one of my dear friends puts it – the ability to place square pegs in round holes), it does not give us the ability to mix it in the political world with professionals.
My honest advice for Carol would be to gain far more experience (as Will Self has done) on more downmarket panel shows such as those presented by other professional television intellectuals like Stephen Fry and Ian Hyslop. I would love to change the world but if I were asked to appear on Question Time the answer would be a resounding NO – it is a tough gig with a very informed and partly invited audience most of whom have an interest in politics and almost all of which would have more heartfelt and sincere views than myself. When will the BBC learn to check out their invited celebrities for suitability and IMPARTIALITY!

Promotion of A to Z of Britain and Ireland

2010-01-22T13:14:00.000-08:00

With the recent publication of my A to Z of Britain and Ireland I have been busy doing some promotional work. I had a local signing at Waterstones in Crawley the Saturday before Christmas and this went quite well. Julian Clary signed in the store two days earlier and I was pleased that I managed to outsell him, particularly as my local rag quite understandably concentrated on advertising his event rather than mine. Mind you I do know my place. While Julian was afforded the privacy of a sheltered signing area so those who want to see the great man are obliged to buy a book, I, as always, was stuck in the centre of the store feeling like a museum exhibit for much of the two hours I signed! A huge thank you to Chris Oxlade at Radio Mercury FM for plugging the signing on his Saturday morning show and to friends, Pete Ediss, Ruth Benjamin, Justyna Greba, and Steve and Mandy Lloyd who came along to support me and purchase books (in Pete's case four books).

Although I quite enjoy radio plugs, and am always so grateful for this exposure, I am never happier than when addressing a captive audience so it was an absolute delight to revisit a school I first visited last year; Archbishop Tenison, in Croydon, south London.
Initially I was taken to the staff room for a much-needed cup of tea and then was treated to lunch by the IT teacher, Miss Benjamin, whose class I was to visit. After lunch I was introduced to 6th former Richard Jenkins, a budding Mastermind with the specialist subject of Quantum Physics. I suggested perhaps he narrowed this subject down to a particular area or, better still, one of the early pioneers.
The young adults of maybe 14 or 15 years of age then began to trickle in and I overheard Miss Benjamin referring to Cameron, Rebecca, Jessica and Abigail which gave me the opportunity to begin my talk by informing these children what the derivation of their names were. Cameron is something of a computer genius so I suggested perhaps his parents named him after a Gaelic translation of the word ‘Awesome’ (what I didn’t mention was that a more accurate translation from Scots Gaelic is ‘Crooked Nose’). I informed Rebecca that her name originally meant ‘one that brought peace’ but the sniggers from her classmates made this of doubtful authentication. Jessica seemed quite proud that her name meant ‘God beholds’ and Abigail was equally happy to know that her name meant ‘father rejoices’. The biggest laugh was after I rather immodestly told the children that they could check all these names out on page 556 of the latest edition of the A to Z of Everything - including my own which means Big....Head (actually this was my only misinformation as my name actually means ‘big village’).
I then spoke of how computer advances had helped me in reducing the time it takes me to compile one of my books although I did add the caveat that you cannot necessarily believe everything you read on Wikipedia. I retold a story I had heard at church the day before as told by Bishop Kieran Conry of Arundel and Brighton. The good bishop had been researching the possibility of John the Baptist’s head being preserved 2,000 years on. Internet sources cite possible locations as the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Sebaste in Samaria, Herod’s palace in Jerusalem, Emesa in Phoenicia, Basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome, and several other sites including one at Wakefield in Yorkshire! I suggested that when the daughter of Herodias demanded from King Herod “bring me the head of John the Baptist” perhaps Herod should have replied – “which one!”
It was then time for a magic show. The theme was logical thinking and the children had to try and work out how I could get them to shuffle a pack of cards – pick ten cards from the pack, shuffle them anyhow they wanted and then choose one to show the class before replacing the card in the pack and then reshuffling before handing the cards back to me to make my prediction. Cameron was the first to play and I began by telling him that I had made a prediction that morning before setting out and I had placed a piece of paper under the orthotic of my right shoe. I produced the piece of paper and moments after informing me his card was the Ace of Spades I showed him that this indeed coincided with my prediction. Isaac was the next to choose a card. I immediately told him before he even returned the pack to me that his card was the Six of Hearts. It was fantastic to see and hear the shock and as an afterthought Isaac asked me why I didn’t make the prediction earlier as I had done with Cameron. I then suggested he pull a piece of paper out of my back pocket and when the Six of Hearts was produced the joy on the children’s faces was something to behold. Several more children tried their luck, the funniest being young Adeyna who shuffled the pack every which way she could and then changed her mind about her original choice and decided to select another card. Without touching the pack I told her that my prediction was made earlier and that if she looks in my coat pocket she would find a solitary piece of paper with her card written on it. When she opened the paper Adeyna freaked out and threw it away in horror. For the record no one managed to win the teacher’s huge cash prize (she had more faith than I had) for anyone who solved the trick although I did like one pupil’s suggestion there were hidden cameras (which given the computer technology of this room was very feasible, but untrue). I also liked the suggestion that I had 52 pieces of paper secreted in 52 orifices on my person! This was of course evidently partly true but did not explain how the trick was done with a standard deck of cards with no markings. Before I left I did inform Miss Benjamin of my methods but whether she ever tells the children is down to her – she will be badgered though : )
We then had a computer-related quiz. Fortunately for me I was not asked to take part this time as I had done to such unspectacular effect on my previous visit (I placed last) so the teacher asked me to write ten questions whilst she supplied the other ten. Just as well I was not subjected to ritual humiliation once again as I feel sure I would not have even guessed one of Miss Benjamin’s jolly difficult questions even though I had a six to one chance of success. Again the RMTUTOR equipment was used, whereby all the machines display the same screen when activated by a software package called Active Expression. The handpieces act as advanced buzzer systems. We could not only see all the answer options but also who answered quickest, who hadn’t answered, who answered wrongly, exact times and ongoing scores. And all the information was displayed on an interactive whiteboard. The children showed remarkable knowledge to questions such as ‘What year was the word "computer" first used to describe a mechanical calculating device?’ and ‘What computer device did Douglas Engelbart invent in 1963?’(answers 1897 and Mouse – I think). After a three-way tie at the top between Ryan, Adeyna and Cameron – The awesome crooked nose won by dint of having the fastest finger and chose the A to Z of almost Everything as his prize.
The last 20 minutes was given over to an exercise in designing a home page banner for my website using Adobe Flash (this was a detergent that cut cleaning time in half when I was at school!). I was to choose a winner from the class of 17 and this was an almost impossible task as each and every person showed remarkable flair and ability. I particularly liked Jessica’s method of tagging all three of my books on the banner with the first two books fading into the background whilst the latest Britain book rose like a phoenix from the ashes through the centre. I also admired Abigail’s innovation of having the 26 letters of the alphabet revolving around the bottom of the banner by way of acknowledging my epithet as the A to Z man. Others mentioned in despatches included Oliver’s use of each book gaining prominence in rotation with the publicity blurb making up the background. The winner though was Jack’s clever sales pitch along the lines of “Perhaps you are interested in sport (with a shot of the sports book now in the foreground), perhaps Britain (with the latest book taking pride of place) or maybe just everything (with my best-selling book now superseding the Britain book). Quite simple, but very effective. Rebecca, had been working on some other cool effects and Miss Benjamin has subsequently charged her with a complete redesign of my site, including the winning banner.
We had a splendid few hours and, despite my reluctance to divulge the trade secret of how my trick was performed, we parted as friends. For my part, in this sometimes cruel and cynical world, I was filled with fresh hope that perhaps the future of our planet is in safe hands.

Prayer - Who needs it?

2009-10-12T01:50:00.000-07:00

Two dear friends of mine recently gave me very challenging food for thought regarding religious beliefs; one asked me how a Christian knows when God is talking to them and the other told me of their struggle to understand why it is necessary for prayer groups when surely a solitary prayer would suffice to gain the ear of God.
I tried to offer reasoned responses to both these questions but the truth is I haven’t a clue!
How do I for instance know when God is telling me something – if indeed He ever has?
I have never certainly heard the voice of God in thunderous rapture or quiet repose but every fibre of my body tells me that God has often ‘spoken’ to me during prayer, whilst asleep, sometimes before the contemplation of sin and sometimes after contrition. To the non-Christian mind I suppose I am describing conscience but quite often our consciences whilst having the facility to be pricked are rarely pierced in the same way as the overwhelming certainty felt when we listen, and follow, a course of action that continues to nag away at us and almost always causes us to sacrifice in some way. Conscience is a powerful thing but it can often bring remorse and misgiving as to whether our chosen course was ultimately the correct one – a directive from God will always bring forth fruit.
So how do we know the difference?
Well there are clues and sometimes even clear signs but at the end of the day there must always be an uncertainty – it is the nature of faith I’m afraid – but what is absolutely certain beyond question is that any course of action in defiance of what an individual believes to be a directive from God will ultimately cause misery and pain. This is not to say that those with mental health issues are right in killing a fellow human being in the name of the voice of God. The good Lord, the God of love, would never ask any of us to kill another human being and that in essence should serve in itself as a clue that all such messages are from the devil.
Many Christians experience deep spiritual revelations which stay with them continuously and they do not waiver from their path when the new day dawns – this is a massive clue.
Some Christians try an alternative course of action from that which their spiritual core is screaming at them. Often this course bears no fruit, and quite often pain and guilt, and the righteous path when ultimately followed might soon bring forth surprising feelings of wellbeing and satisfaction – this too is a massive clue.
For myself I tend to listen to my hidden voice during prayer and quiet contemplation and I will try and analyse the ramifications of any actions I might want to take. When I follow the wrong path I ALWAYS turn off this mechanism and simply follow my human gut instinct and it inevitably leads to pain and misery. When human beings make decisions to glorify themselves then the outcome of these decisions will be measured in human terms – a transient feeling of accomplishment or high but with the inevitable down following at some point.
The simple truth is that humans often ‘know’ right from wrong but choose the safe option, the short term fix. They feel their bodies and souls are fragile and cannot cope with sacrifice – they crave spiritual chocolate and very often know that it is not a remedy and they will soon crash to earth but they have no mechanism, no support facility – prayer, Christian fellowship, church, Bible.
I’ve often heard the question why do we need to pray in groups, indeed I am quite sure I have asked the question at various times in my life. The local priest will ask his congregation to pray for the sick and the recently departed. Of course we don’t know for sure why this might be more powerful than a solitary prayer but we do know that the Bible tells us to pray regularly and this act of faith surely goes some way to building a relationship with our maker.
I have always thought that a truly righteous person (yes I know there is no such thing) will almost certainly have the ear of God over and above the pious hypocrite and so the law of large numbers is a factor in the power of prayer. This is a personal opinion and not part of Christian doctrine but I strongly also believe that whilst we pray for each other we also experience a sense of satisfaction that perhaps OUR prayers will be the ones that save the day and this feeling is an essential part of spiritual growth. Community prayer is an overwhelming energy force and this alone should answer the question – haven’t scientists proven that collective thought can almost work miracles?

Prince of Wales Reith Lecture - my favourite programme of the year

2009-09-22T04:13:00.001-07:00

I watched spellbound at the heartfelt pearls of wisdom that so eloquently rattled off the tongue of our future King during his Reith Lecture last May.

“Respect for the Earth, Can Sustainable Development be Made to Work in the Real World?” was his subject and what a controversial one it turned out to be.

For myself I was enthralled by his passion, commonsense and informed knowledge gleaned by talking with many of the world’s leading experts in the field of climate change – a unique position that only someone of Prince Charles’ ilk could indulge.

Of course we had the usual detractors such as the ubiquitous Richard Dawkins who tends to get wheeled out at the first sign of religious or spiritual utterings, but on the whole the world sat up and took notice of this quite brilliant heartfelt speech.

In today’s Telegraph I read that 500 leading companies have backed the Prince of Wales’ campaign for concerted action on climate change. The likes of Shell, BP, EDF and Virgin have all signed a communiqué calling on world leaders to commit to cutting emissions by at least 50 per cent by 2050.

It may be too little too late and Charles did not sugar the pill during his speech but at least we have hope if we act now.

I don’t pretend to know all the ins and outs of the extent of the problem but the stats the prince quoted seemed pretty damning to me and put the fear of God in me as to what the likely scenario will be if nothing is done NOW.

Yes many Christians feel these uncertain times are the type described in the Bible as the precursor of the ‘end’ and indeed many of us might actually pray for deliverance from the evil of this world, however I feel sure that we are meant to repent the sins against our planet in the same way as those against God and it is not good enough to sit back and do nothing in the vain hope that all will be well.

I cannot believe the changes in technology I have witnessed in my lifetime and to me it only shows to prove how organisms can develop exponentially in the same way as the advances in computer science.

I hope we listen to the man and do something. The clues are all there for us to see!!

You can fool most of the people...............

2009-09-22T03:01:00.000-07:00

I know it is stating the obvious and I know the only people who really believe that illusionist Derren Brown correctly predicted the National Lottery numbers are those that also believe that the Rovers is a real pub and that WWF wrestling is for real. However, an audience of more than 2.7 million suggests that a high percentage of the viewing public were either fascinated at the prospect of some true divine intervention or were merely curious as to Mr Brown’s modus operandi!!

I actually fall within the second group as I like to think I can work out most illusions and this particular one is a bog standard variance on the old tried and trusted ‘prediction’ trick that Derren himself often ends his shows with whereby a box hanging precariously and quite transparently above the stage throughout his act is opened to reveal an accurate account of all that has gone before………..Magic!

Derren Brown has quite a good patter, although not all magicians find it ethical that he often ‘lies’ to his audience rather than merely leaving them spellbound. I find him very clumsy sometimes when he is studying hidden set pieces and forgets to concentrate on the continuity of the act - and as for that mannerism whereby he appears to have just been injected with botox – well what’s that all about? Is this meant to denote his mystical qualities or perhaps the tic is his way of adjusting his collar as he really does have some neck!

Why I mention all this is because I was flabbergasted that the Daily Telegraph actually gave almost half a page to the Lottery phenomena with a header ‘Mystery remains as Derren Brown tries to explain lottery prediction’. Well Derren didn’t try too hard and in fact ended up saying how he didn’t do it!

I will not spoil the act by telling you how the trick was done but all I will say is that it is easier to perform such a feat in a studio than in someone’s living room.

Oh and sorry to disillusion all those avid fans of the psychic mediums such as Colin Fry and Derek Acorah – these people too are just performing an act, only sometimes they themselves do not even know it. It is very skilful and is as equally enthralling as watching the Undertaker or his ‘brother’ Kane but it ain’t real folks.

So why is my God so real to me when I cannot show you any more proof of Him than Derren Brown or Colin Fry can show proof of supernatural ability?

Because I want Him to be real! because the alternative is unthinkable! – oh yes this is undoubtedly true but it goes a little deeper than that I’m afraid – If I am deluding myself also then what is the downside of this? God doesn’t expect us to live our lives without joy and character so it is wrong to assume that we must automatically become pious - although some Christians do – and this is not necessarily a negative thing. The simple truth is that humans have a great propensity to cock up their lives if left to their own devices. Greed takes over, lust becomes addicted, alcohol, drugs, selfishness, jealousy all become the norm and then depression and anxiety takes hold – the good might feel guilt but without some constraints the evil that men do will always prevail as an acceptable barrier to love and respect and honesty. Not a single man alive or dead has managed to live a sinless life without God’s help. All have died with hope, some more than others, but the Christian ones have died with a faith and trust that they will be held accountable for their actions on earth and that this judgement might be favourable if they are truly reborn. You see there is no downside. People’s opinions mean nothing – Vanity Vanity Vanity – the cool factor is the biggest delusion of all. Who is cool? NO ONE – it is an illusion – in reality we are all lost souls trying to impress each other, trying not to show each other our weaknesses, scared of the judgements we will undoubtedly receive if our fellow man knew how uncool we really were. It is all just VANITY.

It is not that I don’t believe in the supernatural – I certainly do – and I have had many personal instances of the paranormal in my life, but I just KNOW that all those people I mention above are mere purveyors of an art form – all just Uri Gellers – the master of illusion who fooled entire nations with his trickery and earnt lots of money doing so.
If my God does not exist either then what have I lost? You see it is all about the journey and not about the arrival – that will always disappoint the lowly human being!
I know these words should remain unwritten and unsaid because some will automatically think my faith must be weak as I dare question the possibility of there not being a God but these are the same people who think I have a bad opinion of my own Catholic Church because I openly talk about all those wretched homosexual priests that have infiltrated the church and have subsequently been defrocked for their evil ways. To me it is a perfectly natural thing for someone with confused sexuality becoming a priest in the hope that they might lead a celibate life. Some will truly believe they can pull it off and others will not be true believers at all and will merely use the church for their own ends. This is the way of the world and does not make my church evil nor does it make organised religion evil. It is a proof of how low we can stoop without God in our hearts. Here again I must point out that I am not accusing homosexuals of anything and I love them as much as I love heterosexuals – I was once called homophobic by a member of my local Labour Party and it hurt like hell and is just not true – but in the Catholic faith priests are vetted as to suitability for the life of a priest and these people have subsequently shown themselves to be charlatans in the same way as homosexuals who give blood when they know they shouldn’t are charlatans. Yes it is discrimination but we are all discriminated against every day of our lives, especially the youth, but it is for the good of the majority most of the time and not a personal thing.

Enough said

Sisters are not doing it for themselves

2009-08-31T13:15:00.000-07:00

I feel the need to comment briefly on Libby Purves’ column in this morning’s Sunday Telegraph.

The picture of a nurse with thermometer in hand below a caption reading ‘Clean up your act, sisters’ caught my eye as I was browsing the comment and analysis pages towards the back, and usually less interesting, section of the paper.

Libby suggests that the nursing profession’s once-spotless image has been tainted by recent revelations of neglect. She tells the story of one dignified old man who constantly fell out of bed because the nurses wouldn't put safety sides on: they quite erroneously and lazily said it would impair his "human rights". He died, in the end, by slipping down the bed one night and choking because they weren't watching, preoccupied with gossip at the nursing station. Apparently another woman was left bare-bottomed in a mixed ward because the nurses couldn't be bothered to draw the curtain!

Last week's report from the Patients Association – coming after the dreadful evidence earlier this year about the failings of Mid Staffordshire NHS Foundation Trust – shows that, despite the majority of good nurses, there is a growing rottenness, a seed of disregard and inhumanity within the profession.

Why I feel the need to comment is because my mother was a nurse all her working life and even when she became a ward sister for the last 15 years of her stint her attitude never changed. She was very much a hands-on carer, often shopping for her patients, but always washing them, lifting them, joking with them and certainly changing beds when accidents occurred beneath the sheets and mopping floors when they occurred on the ward.

Today the domestic staff can be counted on to do many of the jobs previously performed by nursing staff but the truth is you rarely see a ward sister outside the safety of her office and nurses often ignore the ‘beckon buzzers’ if something else takes priority – like a tea break, crossword puzzle, sudoku!!

Yes I am being slightly facetious and making sweeping generalisations against the main body of excellent staff but as Libby states ‘It may represent only 2 per cent. But it's there. And once disregard, inhumanity and carelessness take root, they grow at frightening speed’.

The Government's chief nursing officer, Dame Christine Beasley, said recently on Radio 4 that nurses had a clear duty to report poor practice by their fellows – if they don't, "in my book they're as culpable as the person who did it". Dame Christine admitted that reporting colleagues is hard, "especially more senior ones – but that's no excuse".

So that’s the answer then – please please please report bad practice if you are among the 98 per cent of nursing staff who believe nursing to be a vocation. If you are a victim of bad practice then complain to the trust or health authority. If you are an auxiliary worker on a ward then report bad practice to your superior. You owe it to all those people like my mother who gave their life to a profession that made a difference to people’s lives and gave the nation as a whole a great boost and sense of pride.

I can tell you this – In many countries (and some that we might call third world) they are appalled at our lack of patient care in our hospitals and if you were to be sick in an Indian hospital for instance then you would be attended constantly by various medics until you feel becalmed and relatively happy. Dignity is the most valuable of commodities and the elderly, who are often held in reverence in some countries, are clearly being let down in the original home of democracy and freedom.

In memory of Eric Carden

2009-06-01T01:34:00.000-07:00

As i cycle around the Sussex streets passing pub after pub i am reminded of my dear friend Eric, sadly no longer with us.

Eric was that rare animal capable of charming all and sundry with his giving personality, modesty and wit. It is true to say that in all the years i knew him i never heard anyone say a bad word against him. There are few people i can say that about.

I first met Eric in the Half Moon public house in Crawley in early 1987. I was playing the quiz machine with very little success and Eric came up and introduced himself and invited me to a quiz there that evening. Martin, the landlord subsequently told me that the reason why i was having little success was that Eric had already taken the machine for a considerable amount and it was now in defence mode. Eric you see was a professional quiz machine player.

We soon became great friends and would have a day out together every week travelling around our pub circuit which included every establishment with a machine south of the Watford Gap. I was a non-drinker and would order a half of something and pour it into the nearest plant pot to deter landlords from barring my entry. We had some great laughs. As time went on, between us we learnt every answer on Crosswords, Give Us A Clue (Genus 1), Treble Top, A Question of Sport, Quiz Vaders, Every Second Counts, Inquisitor, Turnover, Wise Moves, Bar Quest and Give Us A Break, which meant we had all bases covered. We also both knew all the answers of a machine called Concentration whereby you scored points and then had to remember where pairs of cards were that flashed up on the screen. Together we were invincible on this machine as we would merely remember the top and bottom half individually and then pool our answers. On one occasion we found a box in the Romford Odeon (Eric was a past master at seeking out machines in the unlikeliest of places). We had clocked the machine up to £99 (we never went above £100 as we were always afraid it might reset itself as they only had a double-digit display) and were now very nervous at pressing 'collect' as these machines were notoriously noisy and we liked to keep a low profile as we were unsure we should really be walking in off the street and playing the machine without purchasing a ticket. As we pressed the button £80 in pound coins (that was all that was in the tubes) rifled out in quick succession, some initially shooting across the floor. The cinema staff rushed over and Eric as quick as a flash in order to allay attention uttered "we just won the jackpot but it has paid out in ten pences" to which the cashier replied equally as quickly "well done, i'll change them into notes for you". All seemed lost until Eric responded "no that's ok i actually collect ten pence pieces in a jar" - all the while i was surreptitiously stuffing the pound coins into my pockets.

The truth is Eric was never motivated by greed and he would invariably spend his profits in the pub he won them. He might spend an hour or two talking with the bar staff and quite often would either get roped into participating in their quiz nights or asked to host their quiz. This was the measure of the man that despite having a great talent for looting the pub quiz machine he was often the most popular person in the pub with both customers and bar staff.

Eric was a gentleman and a gentle man. He taught me a lot about people and how to interact with them in this alien environment to me, I initially did not buy a drink and wondered why i was constantly banned from pub after pub!

Eric was a great friend. He helped me prepare for my Mastermind efforts by asking me hundreds of questions about Elizabeth I and Mary of Scots. He also often helped out by setting questions for my fledgling British Quiz Championships. Eric was a considerable talent himself and is one of few people to have ever beaten the mighty Kevin Ashman on a television quiz show (Winner Takes All). More than his great brain and his gentleness and even his friendliness and accommodating manner was his humanity. Eric was a human being who had no side, no hidden agendas, no hatred, no vanity. You could rely on him - trust him implicitly. He was a good friend to me and i have many friends locally who miss him as much as i do. He was one of the good guys and i just wanted to remember him today and i wish he were still here. He inspired me to take part in quizzes. He had an over-inflated opinion of my ability but instilled great confidence in me and i almost wanted to be a good player in order not to let him down. He had an infectious laugh and humour played a big part in his life. He was brought up in the Liverpool of the Beatles era and knew them second hand from his older brother who played with a famous Merseyside band.

Eric was knowledgeable, interesting, funny, loveable, vulnerable and always capable of surprising you with a story or snippet of factual information. He was a class act.

Eric was my friend and i pray that he will live again

Shush - there's a Christian about!

2009-05-19T04:49:00.000-07:00

Worried Christians worship in secret. This was the headlines of an article in The Daily Telegraph today.

The Very Rev John Hall, the Dean of Westminster, said believers were increasingly keeping their faith to themselves. He went on to criticise the decision to suspend a nurse, Caroline Petrie, who offered to pray for an elderly patient.

On the same page was another headline – Prayers got me fired, says GP. This was the case of a Muslim doctor, Musarrat Syed-Shah, who says she was sacked because she wanted to attend a mosque for prayers every Friday.

Both these stories highlight the growing religious intolerance prevailing in every aspect of human life.

I think I mentioned in a previous blog how I became persona non grata after visiting a children’s home in my locality and made the mistake of handing out Bibles to the kids and was subsequently refused entry. At the time I merely thought the home had something to hide but in hindsight it has become very clear that the chap in charge probably felt I was recruiting for my Christian army – God forbid!

Tony Blair has publicly stated that he hid his Christian beliefs while running the country and of course his master of spin Alistair Campbell once interrupted a question about the prime minister’s faith with 'I'm sorry, we don't do God.'

Broadcaster Jeremy Vine has also publicly declared that he daren’t mention his Christian faith on the radio for fear of reprisals.

What can we glean from these examples and would it be a good thing to abolish religion completely?

Of course there is no easy answer. Spiritual matters tend to be made very complicated by fickle human analysis and arguments for and against the worship of the God of love are fundamental to the ongoing ‘war’.

Take the John Lennon classic song Imagine as an example – One of my favourite songs begins:
Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

John asks us to imagine a world where there is no fear of repercussions for what we do. A worthy sentiment, if only the human spirit lent itself to always doing the right thing!

The song goes on
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

I love this idea of a global village with no boundaries of race, creed, or culture. Sounds like Heaven to me! Unfortunately John was blissfully unaware that was what he was describing so beautifully. Yes it is true that people kill each other in the name of patriotism and religion but the perpetrators of such crimes would operate within any context. To kill in the name of patriotism is only a very small leap from the mentality that prevails among football hooligans. Those that kill in the name of religion are not doing God’s work – He is more than capable of defending himself. To suggest that the world would be safer or more peaceful without religion is naïve bordering on delusion. Humans lie and cheat so naturally, even the best of them practice nepotism and a state of chaos would soon persist if human life was left to its own devices and God abandoned us.

The song finally describes Heaven on Earth – A way of life alien to so many people but those truly touched by the Holy Spirit. Of course John wrote these words in his disillusionment with human beings and the mechanisms by which they choose to remain disparate from each other – patriotism, religion and greed.

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

Far from being the atheists’ anthem that it would appear to be this song is every Christian’s dream for their fellow man. Yes we would love to live as one, live in peace, live in equality – often this is the initial appeal of converting to Christianity (or any religious denomination I should add) but since man’s first disobedience he has shown himself to be untrustworthy, fickle, irrational, moody, inconstant and several other adjectives of the same ilk which all add up to the same thing – man will ultimately cock up – every single time, without fail.

There is no such thing as a good person – we are all tainted – but we place an acceptable level of behaviour in the category of being good despite our shortcomings which without guidelines will eventually supersede the good. These guidelines are necessary, essential even, they are part of what we call religion.

Take the example of MPs’ expenses. Virtually every MP has been found guilty of abusing the system. Irrespective of what the fees office might allow all MPs should have enough foresight to know that they are going to be judged harshly by making speculative claims and I for one could not trust any public figure who blatantly milks the system for all its worth and then expects me to believe they have the necessary integrity to make important decisions in the public interest. Inevitably these people are tarnished in the same way as the bejewelled evangelists and defrocked priests. Guilty of bringing their profession into disrepute but not devaluing the message in any way, in fact the message is enhanced rather than diluted. We need good candidates.

Things are never quite what they seem in this world. On the whole people are greedy and self-serving. Those that become financially successful often throw a few crumbs about to ease their conscience and inflate their ego, those that become financially very successful tend to become megalomaniacs – true philanthropists are a rare breed indeed and all the ones I know are touched by the Holy Spirit.

I suppose Richard Dawkins is the most famous atheist in the UK. His method of rationalising religious beliefs is to concentrate on all the negative aspects of faith without ever giving a balanced view of the positive aspects. They do not exist to him!
I could write an A to Z of the negative aspects of Religions and it would be a far larger tome than his, larger than my A to Z of Everything – by far. I would though feel compelled to write about the positive aspects too and fear my life span is too short to complete such a book.

Holy Thursday

2009-04-09T19:11:00.000-07:00

On this day, almost 2,000 years ago, Christ shared His last supper with His disciples and when He broke the bread and shared it with them He said six words which became the foundation of the daily Catholic Mass ‘Do This In Memory Of Me’ (Luke 22: 19).
The Eucharist (Christian sacrament commemorating the Last Supper) in its various forms of Holy Communion is celebrated daily, and often several times a day, in all Catholic churches and so every day this request is carried out, but today the anniversary becomes more poignant as we focus on the events that followed this meal.

My local Catholic Church, the Friary, reopened this evening after six months of much-needed refurbishments and but for it being Holy Thursday, commemorating the Lord’s Last Supper, one feels laudatory speeches would not have been out of place.
The building, recesses, wall icons, lighting and acoustics are all magnificent and to have all these elements coming together at the beginning of the always emotive Easter Vigil, with a congregation of hundreds, made for a very special evening.

I know some folk will think that it is obscene to spend huge sums of money on church decoration but isn’t it our duty to make the best possible use of our resources on earth and surely the spiritual home of our Lord should be the first charge on our income.
Remember that rare occasion when Jesus showed temper in the Jewish temple in Jerusalem when He witnessed it being used as a market-place (John 2:14-15).
Remember too when Mary, sister of Lazarus anointed the feet of Jesus with a pound of luxurious spikenard and Judas Iscariot, the keeper of the money-bag no less, asked why the ointment wasn't sold for three hundred denarii instead (about a years wages) and given to the poor. Jesus answered this accusation with ‘The poor you will always have but me you will not always have’. (John 12:3-8)

Doesn’t this give us an insight into how the Lord is a God of truth. Doesn’t this give us an insight into the Lord’s perfect reasoning skills and also how this God of love implies that we should budget responsibly, make honest assessments, not be judgmental of each other and above all –have a relationship with Him. Doesn’t this also tell us the way He would like us to feel about our blessed and holy places designed for His worship. For this is what a church is, make no mistake – a place of worship.

So although I believe the most modest of churches is of equal importance to the greatest of cathedrals in God’s eyes (as any church is only as good as the Christianity of its congregation) it is the Christian’s duty to strive to maintain or improve that household.

The Friary was crumbling, paintwork was peeling, and the PA system intermittently failing to the detriment of the service. All this created an air of despondency and uncertainty within the congregation as it became difficult to pay homage to the Lord with feedback ringing in one’s ears.

Yes, we are in a global recession and there is much wrong with the world, but we need to change the minds of man, not make false economies.

Praise the Lord for our churches – those hallowed havens of hope for all Christians

Suffer Little Children

2009-01-25T13:55:00.000-08:00

Today, as with so many recent days, it rained, and this, coupled with various email received from friends, cycling team-mates and loved ones, led me to reflect on the problem of suffering.

In his poem ‘The Rainy Day’ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-82) concluded Into each life a little rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.

These words were possibly inspired by the premature death, in childbirth, of his first wife, Mary Potter, but in any case later proved to be prophetic for the great man as he lost his second wife, Frances Appleton, in even more tragic circumstances when she accidentally set herself alight. Longfellow never really recovered from this second tragedy and took to his bed for long periods, too scared to sleep in case of not waking.

I've been very lucky with my health generally but I have always felt that when these human indignities are thrust upon us it tends to steel our spirits in a necessary way. Each time we suffer makes the next time just a little easier and we become more aware but more tolerant of our mortality. I remember when my dad sat me down a few years ago to discuss the merits of whether he should bother having surgery for cancer as he didn’t much fancy the treatment and knew that his restricted oesophagus and reduced stomach capacity would mean the loss of his gourmet lifestyle. To me he seemed to be taking an almost business-like approach to his life but I now know it was just the wisdom of advanced age and the human mechanism to rationalise and come to terms with the finite term we experience on Earth.

My dad is still going strong in his 88th year having made the right decision.

Coincidentally I have today received updates about several friends who are struggling through that despicable burden of ill-health. Mark and John have cancers, Sue is in a hospital bed not responding to any stimuli, Mario is worried that his wife Suzanne’s cancer has returned and Luke has had to have his right arm amputated after a mystery virus created complications.

May I ask anyone who reads this blog to pray earnestly for all of the above, with a repentant heart, as I believe the repentant heart has great power. In Luke 13 Jesus talks of the certainty of death of unrepentant sinners. You see it is all just a timing difference. We may die today or tomorrow but we shall hardly ever die when we, or our loved ones, are ready. The repentant sinner shall never die according to Jesus.

An earlier line in Longfellow’s ‘The Rainy Day’ goes Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining. The man truly knew the nature of suffering. All things must pass and indeed some tragedies are played out with joyous endings.

I have a friend who broke his back falling out of a tree. He is in constant pain and his paralysis has worsened over the years to the extent that he now requires 24-hour care and is confined to bed for long periods. Despite this Brian always has a joke to brighten your day and is an inspiration to all and sundry. He would actually tell you it was the best thing that ever happened to him as he didn’t really like the path his life was taking before that fateful day.

My brother Kevin had a similar accident to Longfellow’s second wife Frances, last year. He survived and visited me from his home in Ibiza this last Christmas.

It rained and then the sun shone.

Soap Opera Continuity

2009-01-25T03:19:00.001-08:00

Having always been a fan of kitchen-sink drama I do occasionally dip into the nation’s favourite soaps Eastenders and Coronation Street. In recent years my enthusiasm has been tempered somewhat by a mixture of unbelievable storylines and little or no continuity. To me it shows scant disrespect for the viewing public.

To give recent examples of each of these misdemeanours might serve to highlight the waywardness of the respective writing teams.

Jack Branning and ‘tough guy’ Phil Mitchell had an altercation two years ago resulting in Phil duping his mother into signing over the car lot to Jack. This in itself was totally unbelievable as Phil had already ‘sorted out’ Jack in the past and is hardly the sort of bloke to roll over and play pussy. The premise was meant to be that Phil ‘got lucky’ the first time around but now Jack was ready for him………………… I ask you!

All was not lost I thought as Phil vowed vengeance on this dastardly lowlife former bent copper who had dishonoured him and, worst of all, his family. The retribution was going to be swift and bloody as everyone in the world knows “you do not mess with the Mitchells!”

Almost two years on and Jack and Phil have become almost bosom pals, teaming up in their fight against the even more dastardly Psycho Sean. Even when Jack’s brother Max solicited Phil’s help to make Jack ‘disappear’ Phil did not rise to this obvious opportunity to settle old scores.

Yes I know Jack Branning is a good character and the writers are loathe to kill him off but they should have thought of that before jeopardising his character’s existence.

A good example of an unbelievable storyline is the present Carla/Tony/Liam ménage à trois. Of course the viewer is privy to the information that Tony had Liam bumped off (literally), but when Maria tells all and sundry that Tony confessed to her is there no one with the nous to give her the benefit of the doubt as she is hardly a straitjacket case and the clues are there as Sir David Frost might say. Surely Carla would have a long meaningful chat with Maria in order to make sense of the death of the love of her life. What sort of friend is Fizz to simply dismiss her mate’s earnest pleas. Even normally supportive brother Kirk is seen constantly kowtowing to Saint Tony by apologising for his errant sister’s foolhardiness. And as for Norris…….well he has been a victim of Tony’s menacing threats first hand so you’d think he’d put two and two together and come up with four, especially in light of the disappearance of Jed Stone.
Perhaps Kevin might even suspect that the man who sabotaged his business is not likely to gain imminent beatification.

Again, I know Tony is a strong character and the writers are trying to prolong his soap life but please can we have just a hint of reality in our storylines.

Don't be Surprised by Joy

2009-01-03T13:54:00.000-08:00

Sometimes in the bleak mid-winter months my mind turns to contemplation of shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings.

As a new year starts and the stark waves of mortality wash through my brain I appraise what’s gone before, what is now and what is to come – for me - and for you.

For myself – at this moment in time - I feel that incredible emotion that CS Lewis described so beautifully in several of his works – Joy. Those three simple letters, which score so well at Scrabble (in almost any company) can be a Christian’s most potent defence against the vicissitudes of life. God in his wisdom withholds it from his children at some moments, and in his mercy pours it out on them at others.

Joy is at the heart of Christianity – it is that blessed gift that compels men and women into the fellowship of the Cross and transforms a wide, diverse throng of sad, lonely pilgrims into a community full of faith, hope and charity. In John 15: 11-12 Jesus says to His disciples “These things have I spoken unto you, that My joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full. This is My commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you”. These words ultimately brought a motley gang of proud and competing sinners together into a fellowship of joy.

To understand Joy further I must hark back to the celebrated Clive Staples Lewis (Jack to his friends).
He distinguished joy from both happiness and pleasure. “Joy (in my sense) has indeed one characteristic, and one only, in common with them; the fact that anyone who has experienced it will want it again. Apart from that, and considered only in its quality, it might almost equally well be called a particular kind of unhappiness or grief. But it is a kind we want. I doubt whether anyone who has tasted it would ever, if both were in his power, exchange it for all the pleasures in the world. But then Joy is never in our power and pleasure often is”.

Jack Lewis gave many examples of joy and almost all contained a defining characteristic of longing—a deep yearning or poignant desire for something agonizingly elusive. Just as one’s pleasure in spring contains a memory of winter longings, joy for Jack Lewis always contained "the stab, the pang, the inconsolable longing". This underlying quality of joy was "that of an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction."

The German language has a word for this emotion - sehnsucht. This is the haunting longing that full, heavy, enveloping nostalgia for a fulfillment that awaits.

I have experienced this feeling many times in my life. At church mainly but in everyday life it might even be a smell – of leather as a reminder of my first day at school and my sparkling new satchel, or of something I know not what. Yes I have a smell from time to time that I have never been able to work out what it actually is, but whatever it is that I smell I am transported back to my childhood and an attic room in Limerick with a treasure chest moneybox and key in my hand, whereupon I first wondered what that magnificent odour was.

The really merciful times I have experienced this wonderful feeling of joy is when everything seems to be dark and gloomy and I am either feeling sorry for myself or for someone else.
I am immediately reminded of King Solomon’s words in Ecclesiastes 1 and how he came to realise that although he had experienced every pleasure available to mortal man it was all just vanity and man’s propensity to strive after wind. The end of this verse goes like this “For in the abundance of wisdom there is an abundance of vexation, so that he that increases knowledge increases pain”. This applies to many bright people I know but only the Christian ones are shielded from their pain by this gift of joy. It is this gift that allows someone who has suffered great human tragedy, perhaps the loss of a loved one, to come to terms with their suffering.

I have lost several friends this past year. It began with Jeremy and then Francis, and then John and then Audrey. The year before a great Christian man died. I had read his book which was a testimony of a Christian pastor. I had only met the man once, at the Whyteleafe Pentecostal Church, and he had given me a great laugh with his dancing and hopping about while still managing to say goodbye to a friend of his. He was full of joy you see.
After he died I visited his widow, Joan, and although not surprised at her reaction to her husband’s death, I was heartened by her faith that he was now with other saints who had slipped from this mortal coil. Joan showed me old photos and spoke with such joy that he was now fulfilled. But as I left she explained that although she felt joy at this particular moment she had also shed tears for her beloved husband. You see that is how joy is given to us by God.
It can be a respite from pain and grief.

Jack Lewis was even blessed enough to have married his joy, Joy Gresham to be precise – now how cool is that!

At the funeral of all four of those I mention above I felt an overwhelming joy at the celebration of life. At Jeremy’s humanist funeral I looked around at others I knew and I shared their grief for a personality which was simply irreplaceable. For Francis it was the same solidarity and love for someone we knew was a gentle man in every sense of the word.

John Piper was my old headmaster and I felt real grief to begin with that this great man went largely unheralded. But then the joy cut in. I remembered how I had knocked the top of my finger off playing football and how he had driven me to the hospital after his secretary had fainted at the sight of the bone sticking up. John waited with me all evening and right through the operation. Apparently he had always had a soft spot for me since my first year when I was awarded a 5/- book token for coming top in Maths, English and French but he had refused to hand out my selected choice of book, the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (my affinity with CS Lewis was already apparent it seems), as it was far too childish for a 12-year-old young man!

Audrey was a tough one on the surface. She had always treated me like a son and I was invariably invited to all the family bashes. I was also friends with all her four sons, Wayne my ex-hurdles training partner and golfing buddy had tragically taken his own life a few years earlier, Mark had become business man extraordinaire, Tony was now a successful Manchester poet and Dave was/is and always will be one of the most special guys in the whole world. Audrey had suffered from mental health problems in recent years and this illness had alienated her from many old friends but magically everyone remembered the kind and loving Audrey we all knew for so long. I was touched by joy that day too.

This Christmas my brother Kevin came home from Ibiza for the first time in many years. It was an exhilarating time for me but tinged with great sadness as unlike him I was unable to enjoy the company of others in my family at this time. I initially felt pangs of grief but this was taken away and replaced by joy. Joy for everyone’s happiness and delight – mine too. You see, I know everyone is fit and well and happy and so all is right with the world.

Now all we need to do is experience joy through this latest credit-crunch. Read more books instead of clubbing it – not mine necessarily – give up the booze, stop smoking, cycle perhaps instead of using the car. Forget the rat race for a while. Try praying some time, read the Bible, give church a go. All these things are economically viable and can be very joyful.

OK So I'm A Grumpy Old Man

2008-12-27T06:38:00.000-08:00

As it’s the season of goodwill I thought I’d offer some advice to all those poor people who get taken in on a daily basis by unscrupulous salespersons.

Beware salesmen they often come in sheep’s clothing!

Eleven years ago my insurance company rep from Royal Sun Alliance knocked on my door and invited me to take out a 10-year savings plan. “Of course I can’t give you precise information but at the current rate of interest your money should almost double”. I can see the chap now and I remember thinking “I wonder where you will be in 10 years time”. On a beach in Lanzarote perhaps!

Last Christmas my plan matured and you might think it was a nice little earner as the previous 10 years had been a time of boom bang a bang bang – alas nooooooo. My final figure was far less than I had paid in and when I had the audacity to question this I was told “admin fees”.
While I am on the subject of RSA (now called More Than I think) I’d like to warn people at this stage that they are probably the most customer-unfriendly insurance company in Britain.
I have had my motor insurance and home insurance with them for most of the 30 years I have lived at my current abode and have never yet made a claim on either – however – I had the misfortune to be banned for speeding after speed cameras were placed on the road I live on and in total ignorance I sped through them at 38, 39 and 39mph on the first day they were implemented in February 2001. Three months later, in May, the summons’ arrived on my doorstep all at once and in September I was banned for four months on the totting-up procedure as the magistrate thought it wise to give me three points for the first offence, four for the second and five points for the third, although they were all awarded for a 24-hour period. Incidentally, I subsequently found out this year that I should never have been taken to court in the first place as there were three months between offence and summons!! Anyway my insurance company RSA took it upon themselves to write to me to the effect that I was now persona non grata and that was that. A little irked but undeterred I have continued to pay them my home insurance premium and in September put in a claim for structural damage to my hall wall as a gaping crack suddenly appeared. I sent the builder’s estimate in (£660) as they asked me to but eventually was told this was cosmetic and they would not be honouring my claim. Be warned everyone

Now back to investment issues. This Christmas I had been looking forward to a Capital Bond maturing. I opened a bank account with NatWest five years ago and immediately a personal investment banker called me into his office to tell me that my money would be best served by taking out a Capital Bond. He told me there were three types of Bond, High Risk, Medium Risk and Low Risk but all of them would DEFINITELY serve me better than the interest earned in the account I had opened. Yes, I fell for it again I’m afraid (but remember I didn’t know about my savings plan at this time) and the letter duly arrived on my doorstep last week congratulating me on my bond maturing and relaying to me how pleased they were to inform me that all I needed to do was sign the letter and send it back to the bank. I smelt a rat immediately when no figure was mentioned so I rang the bank and was eventually told that my bond was worth considerably less than five years ago. So much for the words of the investment banker who wasted several hours of my time five years ago and completely unsolicited I might add. Be warned everyone

It seems Christmas is not always the time for good cheer. On 28 December 2004 I purchased a laptop from PC World in Crawley. It never held a charge and had to be plugged in constantly.
I was busy getting my sports book out so didn’t have a chance to take it back initially but rang them up several times during the course of the year to inform them of the situation and they told me to bring it along when I am next in town. Unfortunately for me this was 29 December 2005 and the chap in the store seemed to take great relish in informing me that my warranty expired the day before. My explanation stood for nothing and another lesson was learnt. I bought another laptop this Christmas – from Currys : )

With me it is usually the principle and so the worst crime of all is when you know someone is taking advantage of you but you are helpless to do anything about it. I bought an ear cleaner from a mail order catalogue called Healthy Living in September – it cost me £15.99 i.e. £9.99 +p&p. It was advertised as having a ‘gentle suction action’ but laughably it was just a whirring noise with a light. My GP told me it was useless so I duly sent it back as the company asked me to. I checked my bank account in November to see that £9.99 had been credited and when I rang them last week was told they do not refund postage. Now come on guys I would have expected my original postage back plus the carriage in on the return. More than that I asked for an investigation as I felt this was a con and far from believing this was a faulty machine I rather fear that there could not possibly be a ‘gentle suction action’ on any of the stock as it has a solid head with no compartment for residue wax!
Be warned everyone Healthy Living could ruin your health.

The lessons learnt are twofold. Never be swayed by smooth-talking men in grey suits and if something seems to good to be true then it usually is.

A very happy new year to everyone

Politics - Oh What a Carry On!

2008-12-17T05:17:00.000-08:00

After many years of helping the Labour Party cause I decided almost on a whim to resign from the Party today.

I say resign but in actual fact what I mean is that I shall let my membership lapse.

Last Tuesday evening (9 December) I received a seemingly innocent email sent to me and other local members informing us of a BNP Christmas Party to be held in Crawley and a request to meet at the local B & Q to form a spoiling squad.

The actual email was sent via a completely separate organisation called Unite Against Fascism, which seems to have a large body of Labour Party supporters, but is clearly distinct from the Party.

I questioned why I was copied into the email as I am not a member of UAF or any other militant body, however noble their cause might be.

All I know of the BNP is what I gleaned from surfing the web a few weeks ago when their member's list was published to such a media frenzy one would almost believe they were the Ku Klux Klan.

Their website is bound to be biased but their Wikipedia entry is moderated universally so only fact allowed to be published. This makes me draw a conclusion that although I could never join such a party for my fundamental belief that repatriation is wrong, neither could I join a pro Capital Punishment group or for that matter the Tory Party as I have a fundamental belief it is wrong to take a life and I could never live happily with an unequal distribution of wealth whatever the other policies might be.

This doesn't mean I condone any militant action against someone who is not breaking the law and as far as I can see is merely a part of an organisation of like-minded individuals trying to lobby support for their misguided ideals. I seem to remember the founding father of the Labour Party having all sorts of problems with the militant tendency within and without his party and Mr Keir Hardie being publicly harangued by all and sundry, particularly for his radical support of women's suffrage - God forbid!

What possible political threat are the BNP? Apparently they have up to 100 local council seats across the UK, so if democracy demands they have a voice then so be it. Would we be incensed if they began to turn up to disrupt our Labour Party meetings?

But I hear you say - their manifesto is abhorrent to any right-minded citizen's sensitivities - but why?

There is much I disagree with within the Labour Party but on balance I agree with enough to want to help win an election and I agree with far more than I do with the other parties as I feel Labour Party members tend to have good hearts - on the whole.

As a Christian there is also a lot I disagree with within the Christian Church but enough I agree with to want to wear that badge and again, fellow Christians tend to have good hearts - on the whole.

Having a cursory glance at the BNP website and its Wikipedia entry I can quite understand a band of human beings signing up to it, perhaps hankering for nostalgia or having real fears about our country's identity as a sovereign nation. Although I believe it to be at best a misguided sense of patriotism founded on a fallacy, surely we have not become so corrupt that we can no longer allow free speech.

The philosopher Voltaire has had quite an influence on my life one way or another and ironically it is an apocryphal quote of his that springs to mind here. “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it” (Voltaire said something similar but these actual words were written by Evelyn Beatrice Hall, under the pseudonym S. G. Tallentyre in her 1906 biographical book The Friends of Voltaire).

Voltaire’s sentiment is right in my opinion and democracy lives and dies by the ability or otherwise to stand firm against militancy but not be drawn into a Sysyphean cat-fight.

Subsequent to my reply I received several considered responses mainly informing me of how the BNP have “encouraged” members to make obscene phone calls to our Labour Party councillors night and day and also that certain members were on their ‘red watch’ whatever that might mean. My immediate thoughts on this are that I would doubt a political party would act in such a manner (it is more likely individual member’s responses) but then again I was surprised to see the Labour Party taking such an ill-considered approach to a rival organisation! The point here is that if we looked after our own business and did not engage the BNP then we would not have to fight this pointless war.

I also received a response from a homosexual member accusing me of being homophobic. This was in fact the straw that broke the camel’s back as I pre-empted this response in my closing remarks.

For the record, I do not believe that homosexuality should be celebrated but that is merely a Christian viewpoint and nothing to do with this present argument. I also believe that homosexuals are human beings and I have the same love for them as I do any human being and so I certainly do not consider myself homophobic.

As it happens as the days have gone by I have received several more emails in support of my sentiments about “bully boy” tactics and how I should not be afraid to speak up for something I believe in. This heartened me considerably as if the truth be known I was very upset that I had upset this homosexual respondent as this was not my intention at all and it was on reading his reply did I feel I must withdraw firstly from the forum and after some thought, from the Party, as I do not want to make the same mistakes I have made in the past in my personal life by being insensitive to other people’s points of view.

I am not a political animal and I am certainly not PC, in fact I think the world is going mad, slowly but surely. I can no longer take my bicycle into places I have done for 30 years and when I ask why I am quoted health and safety laws. “What if someone was to fall over your bike or it fell on them”. Do we live in enlightened times – wasn’t this always a possibility. Have we had a glut of bicycle misfortunes lately that I have missed reading about?

Where will it all end – in disaster I’m afraid

Blow, Blow Thou Winter Wind

2008-11-25T02:55:00.000-08:00

Like most people I have a severe dislike of the winter months and feel sure that human beans were designed for hibernation like hamsters and frogs and bears and hedgehogs.

As soon as the leaves start falling I know the long cold trek begins and it will be three or four months before I dare to look forward to the smell of freshly-cut grass or the sound of the dawn chorus.

Of course there are always sporadic bouts of winter activity to break up the tedium and temporarily ignite the burgeoning passions but for me it is a war of attrition until I see that first snowdrop.

I booked myself on a St John Ambulance life-saving course last week and my certificate arrived today. I am now officially competent to perform CardioPulmonary Resuscitation (CPR) to gold standard i.e. compression-ventilation ratio (30:2). To the layman this means if I come across someone who is not breathing I can try to stimulate them back to life by compressing their chest 30 times (in approximately 18 seconds) followed promptly by two goes at artificial respiration, and then repeating this process continually. One might imagine that the silver standard described a less competent student but amusingly it merely suggests the secondary option of cardiocerebral resuscitation (CCR). This technique is simply chest compressions without artificial respiration. My rather camp instructor at St John described certain situations where one might struggle with mouth-to-mouth, for instance if the lifeless person was abhorrent to the eye or smelt!
Actually, although I am being a little facetious here I suspect that we would all have to search our consciences if put on the spot. The good news is that research has shown that both the gold and silver standards are equally effective in almost all cases except for incidences of drowning or drug overdoses where mouth-to-mouth is essential.

On Sunday morning I braved the elements and rode to Horsham to join my team-mates at AD Cycles for a training session. It was quite a ride. In all, between the nine of us, we managed to conjure up seven different mechanical breakdowns i.e. four of us punctured at various times (yes I was one of them), one of us had a saddle problem, one had a loose front mech and another suffered a broken chain. Being experienced cyclists we all relied on each other to have Alan keys and chain tools and such like but to a man none of us had anything!

On Tuesday I attended a quiz at The Guildhall in London as a guest of Grahame Harding, the Chairman of First City Care. Grahame is a splendid fellow and founded Children in Crisis in 1993 with Sarah, Duchess of York and Paul Szkiler. The charity is an investment in the future of our world and every pound raised sees 98p go directly to the various projects. If you would like to support a child or buy Christmas Cards etc please phone 020 7627 1040.
Anyway, last year Grahame and I had our mutual friend Jeremy Beadle on board for this most prestigious quiz but despite our valiant efforts we narrowly missed victory but ended a gallant fourth. We vowed then that we would win the quiz this year in Jeremy’s honour. We had a terrific team and everyone contributed from Steve, the chief accountant to Paula, Grahame’s good lady wife, and especially the three young glamorous ladies who were indispensable in the pop culture area. We led all the way and were eight points clear going into the last round, in which we scored a maximum 10 points. But alas we managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory as the second-placed team of Smith and Williamson scored a magnificent 10 also but had their score doubled by playing their joker! Drat and double drat!
Well we all trundled back to The Ritz, oh yes I forgot to tell you that Grahame very generously puts us up at the world’s most famous hotel, and sipped the manager’s complimentary champagne whilst conducting the usual post-mortem.
Quite honestly we really were quite awesome and I defy even my friends, the celebrated Eggheads, having much of a chance against us that evening – it can only have been Jeremy’s little joke that we lost : )

The seemingly never-ending grind of researching my books becomes a far more lovingly undertaken exercise during the dark winter nights. Although I had the disappointment of having my A to Z of Britain and Ireland put back a year it has been a joy to update and review and now at least I have the prospect of looking forward to its publication next Autumn.

And so December beckons and the Christmas furore begins. I’ve never really been a fan. My mum died on Christmas Day and this brought home more than ever that it is a time for family togetherness. This year, for the first time in many, I have hope of something approaching a family Christmas. My dear brother Kevin is home from Ibiza and with him comes hope that other members of the family might get together as in days gone by.

But you sent me away, Oh Mandy!

2008-10-07T13:35:00.000-07:00

This week’s correspondence wasn’t quite as thrilling as last weeks but some interesting stuff all the same. It is always nice to get feedback from readers of my books and I have to say they are always so complimentary. That’s the marvellous thing about the type of books I compile. It might be considered a little churlish to criticise my style when my main criterion is to impart knowledge so almost all correspondents begin by telling me how much they love my work before gently adding the inevitable “however”.

My favourite one this week was from a Mr Leese from Grantham in Lincolnshire who enquired as to why the Caspian Sea was not so much as mentioned in my list of Seas of the World in the A to Z of almost Everything. I am always grateful when correspondents add their telephone number as it saves me the time and trouble of constructing a letter and suggests that they may actually prefer to discuss the matter. So I rang Mr Leese to inform him that despite the rather misleading name, the Caspian Sea was in actual fact a mere lake, albeit the largest in the world. The gentleman was a sheer delight to talk to. He explained that “they all” refer to Everything on a daily basis and he knew there would be a good reason. The thing is I feel Mr Leese had a valid point in some ways as I could have at least added an entry in “Seas” cross-referenced to “Lakes”. This will be remedied for the next edition.

Two other pieces of correspondence reflect the ups and downs of being an author quite graphically. The first letter advised me that the sales of my A to Z of Sport had slowed to the extent that, although remaining in print and fully available, the intention was to sell 3,796 copies at a mere 35p over cost (I availed myself of 30 such books).

The second correspondence from my publisher informed me that my A to Z of almost Everything had not only had the largest response ever for a single advertisement in the Reader’s Digest but had subsequently become their best-selling book ever. Wow! I think I can live with that.

Another correspondence was an email from the Prime Minister. You know, one of those personalised texts that I imagine all Labour supporters receive. It was a very nice email on the whole thanking me for all my efforts and outlining the reasons for his latest Cabinet reshuffle.

I don’t dislike Gordon Brown. He is personable and clearly doing the best he can in very trying circumstances. I had the good fortune to be invited to my local MP’s home earlier this year to meet Sarah Brown, and she too was very personable and eager to do all she could to further the cause. Between the two of them I thought they were probably best equipped of any couple to replace the very able Tony and Cherie, although I do not believe that in a democracy anyone should be able to hold a post they have not been elected to. A further belief of mine is that the best Prime Ministers have a supportive partner and that’s probably why I struggled with Ted Heath so much; I just wasn’t happy that a bachelor could make good decisions on issues that affect families.

I still feel Gordon and Sarah are well-equipped to steer this country out of the present gloom and possibly even ward off the threat of recession. I say threat because the technical definition of recession is when a nation's economy shrinks for a second successive quarter as has already occurred in my mother country, Ireland. Of course in actuality we have been in recession for some months. However (you see I learnt the best use of this phrase from my correspondents), I felt I had to reply to the PM’s email in a very negative way as I simply could not understand why he would bring Peter Mandelson back into the Cabinet given his very controversial previous attempts to toe the party line.

Mr Mandelson is a very charismatic chap and undoubtedly has a good intellect, although he tends to use it to scheme and manipulate rather than for more positive machinations. He has impeccable political breeding , being the grandson of Herbert Morrison, but even with all those firm Labour roots he managed to defect to the communist party in a fit of pique in his youth. Mr Mandelson's first Cabinet post was as Trade Secretary but he resigned in 1998 after it was revealed that he had borrowed money to buy a house from Geoffrey Robinson, a minister whose affairs were under investigation by Mr Mandelson’s department! Tony Blair then brought Mr Mandelson back into the Cabinet in 1999 as Northern Ireland Secretary, but dismissed him in 2001 over allegations – later disproved I must add– that he intervened in the passport application of an Indian businessman. The thing here is that even if he were to have somehow turned around his life and there was never another controversy it is still bound to end in tears, mark my words. It is quite apparent that the ravenous wolves will be out to get the errant Mr Mandelson as he no longer has the support of the media cognoscenti I alluded to in a previous blog.

In the Family Way

2008-10-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

I’ve had a few dramatic weeks in my life; some happy some sad. This week was undoubtedly the most exciting and joyous I can ever remember.

What great event sparked off this emotional roller-coaster.

Well, on Wednesday I got paid. That’s always good I suppose, but as I only get paid twice a year, and I never know what that payment is likely to be, perhaps that heightens the sense of excitement. But nah, it wasn’t that.

On the same day a dear friend of mine moved into her new home after an horrific experience with landlords, estate agents, property developers and solicitors. I felt a great sense of relief for her but I’m afraid, glad as I was for her, it wasn’t that either.

They say good news comes in threes and anyone who has ever had a family dispute (is there anyone out there who hasn’t) will understand that the best news I received on Wednesday, and indeed for many a long day was via an email: “Found your website and I'm very proud of you. Please contact me. Your brother, Kevin”

Wow! Now Kevin is the second oldest and i haven't seen him for about 15 years. He is the coolest guy on earth. We went to the same school. While I was languishing in the chorus he was lead guitarist in the school orchestra. While I managed to represent the school at cricket, he represented Croydon. And yes, Kevin was even academically more successful than me. If I was Sherlock Holmes (I wish) he was undoubtedly Mycroft.
Kev was the first in our family to have his own business (Heat exchangers or something. I never did quite understand) and along with it the sports car and bungalow. He has been living in Ibiza for the past 18 years where he teaches English and Spanish and also runs a mobile karaoke. I know he shares my interest in cycling and quizzing too so I expect he’s bordering on Vuelta a España level and dying to get on Quiere ser millonario?

So you see Kevin was always someone I looked up to and admired. Not unlike my relationship with his namesake Kevin, the Lord Ashman, I suppose, although Lord Ashman does not have the same street credibility as my brother!

Bearing the testimony above in mind I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel a slight hint of satisfaction in the words “I’m very proud of you”. But nah, that wasn’t the part of the email that touched my heart and made me feel so much joy. It was the “Please contact me”. That’s what did it.

Kev and I have never really fallen out majorly, although we have obviously had our disagreements. Almost all the problems that occur within our family result from sensitivity issues. Every one of us is extremely sensitive to the other’s perceived manner. I think it is just one of the by-products of a very traumatic upbringing where we were forced to depend on each other for succour and perhaps sometimes our own personal quest for a coping mechanism seemed to be at odds with family unity. All I know is I have the greatest admiration for all five of my siblings as I know much of what they suffered and yet all things being equal they have all managed to remain as my mother would have wanted; children of God, yes with all the human foibles born from original sin, but compassionate, determined, conscience-led and above all funny. Humour must never be underestimated here. It was our mutual love of The Goons, Monty Python, Tommy Cooper, Eric and Ernie etc that bound us quite often and saw us through the bad times.

Anyway, Kev’s email started the ball rolling and my first instinct was to contact my dear sister June to give her his email address. You see June and Kev had always had a brilliant relationship and great rapport. June’s husband John is a rock drummer and he and Kev played in the same band for some time and they shared musical tastes and, again harping back to the humour thing, June and Kev bounced off one another with witty one-liners and general levity. June and Kev fell out for the first and only time a few years ago, yes over one of those aforementioned sensitivity issues, but not to make light of a real tragedy I can tell you there was some insurmountable other stuff going on and I myself had a part to play in creating family strife.

I turned up at my sister’s doorstep with not a little trepidation. You see the truth is June and I have hardly seen each other since our mum’s funeral 16 years ago. Yes another sensitivity issue but one in which I feel I could have and should have handled with more love and understanding. I interfered where I was not wanted and was blind to the repercussions of my actions.
Anyhow, I prayed for guidance that I would say all the things I had in my heart with the real humility I felt but also I knew I must be aware that under the circumstances I would not be welcomed. My sister answered her door and I took one look at her face and immediately turned into a blubbering wreck. June being June was just as immediately overcome with compassion and gave me a nice warm hug and in that moment I felt a miracle had happened. You see it was I that should be hugging June with compassion. Without wanting to discuss my dear sister’s business in an open forum as she is a very private person, I shall just say that she has had great tragedy in her early life and has handled it with great fortitude so that only the discerning eye would see any hint of the cracked doll that she could have become.

It didn’t surprise me to know that June had been trying to contact Kev and in the past 24 hours they have indeed corresponded. You see, the love and respect was always there, in fact it is exactly this great love and respect, that was born out of fighting a war together that inevitably caused the rift in the first place.

The only other member of the family apart from my dad (I sent him Kev’s details via email) who I knew the whereabouts of was my immediate older brother Gary. Unfortunately as things go Gal and I had a very acrimonious last meeting while on holiday in June and had not spoken since (yes of course it was a sensitivity issue) so this one was a step too far at this point in time but I popped Kev’s email address in the letter box and although Gal is not on email at least he has a contact point for emergencies.

Later that day after visiting Gary I had a Bible study and the theme was Genesis 37 to 45, the story of Joseph. I felt this was eerily apt and heart-warming as I was feeling quite low. You see Joseph’s family faced great turmoil, their sensitivities were heightened by thoughts of favouritism and it almost cost Joseph his life at the hands of his brothers, but ultimately the story is one of triumph over disaster and family unity being restored.

Any of you out there who have similar stories please don’t despair. There is always hope.

It is not always going to be the case that family will automatically be best friends as those decisions are made by a more intricate mechanism than mere family ties, but please try and leave that door ever so slightly ajar so that hope may enter.

I’m still sad that I do not know the whereabouts and wellbeing of my oldest and youngest, Mike and Shaun but I now have hope that I one day might.

I also have hope now for a brighter future and just because my brother Kevin bothered to send an email. You see in God’s eyes these things are important.

Incidentally as a proof of my brother's brilliance. I happened to be reading my October issue of the Mensa Mag on Thursday night and one of the letters headed "lighten Up" quoted: A pure word has its letters in alphabetical order and may be ascending or descending. The longest pure words i have found are five letters i.e. first, gipsy etc. I wonder if any fellow members can do better.

Now Kev did not know of this but sent me an email yesterday asking me if i knew what the words almost, biopsy and chintz had in common. Howsabout that then - what a man.

I feel i should either resign, Kev should be admitted or we should change our name to Densa.

Olympic boycott - seemed like a good idea at the time!

2008-08-05T03:32:00.000-07:00

As a sports fan the hardest thing I’m ever likely to do is to boycott the viewing of the Beijing Olympics.

Some time ago I pledged to do just that, by way of protest at the nation’s disgraceful human rights record.

Four days from the opening ceremony and I am decidedly twitchy.

Will I be like one of those Jehovah’s Witnesses who profess to never watch television but always seem to know what is going on in the media?

I suppose I could read the reports in the newspapers (I wonder if watching the highlights programmes is out of the question!).

Joking apart, this really is a very difficult situation for me. I’m a writer after all and am expected to be well-versed in sporting knowledge, not least because I intend to update my A to Z of Sport for future publication. Is it possible for me to gain an overview without first-hand knowledge of what actually went on? Will my account of the Games be jeopardised by ignorance?

To say I was looking forward to seeing if our cyclists, rowers and sailors can dominate the world, is something of an understatement. Before my conscience was pricked into submission I was positively salivating at the thought of Paula Radcliffe at last being hailed as the queen of the marathon. Mind you I have to say I rather feel the excuses are coming in thick and fast before the race and stress fractures, spiders, smog and goodness knows what else will surely prevent the greatest distance runner of all time from ending her career on a high. Please don’t expect a fairytale-ending to this one. In a way I’m glad I will not be watching the women’s marathon.

Anyway, I shall be trying my best not to succumb. A friend of mine will be in Hungary doing God’s work and how I wish I were there too. It would be so much easier than having temptation at my fingertips.

Do I think my silent protest will change anything? Nooooooooooo but I do know that this will be good practice for me for any difficult decisions I may have to make in the future, and who knows what will happen in China. There is an ever-growing underground Christian community with considerable influence and the same leader as we have in the west. Anything is possible!

On reflection perhaps it will not be too difficult for me. Perhaps I’ll re-read The Good Earth, a reminder of the humility and manners of a large proportion of the Chinese people.

If I Could Have But Just One Wish

2008-06-11T06:44:00.000-07:00

After church today i found myself in reflective mood. I put on my rose-tinted specs and my mind turned to family - present and past. In the present i am very happy. My brother Gary and i are off to Weymouth for a week to visit our dad and it'll be great. However, i have other brothers too - Mike, Kev and Shaun - and a sister, June. We have all lost touch for various reasons and i haven't a clue how to contact them, or even where three of them are living. I can't help feeling less than whole for this sorry state of affairs and yet i know it is a common theme nowadays.
I love them all very much and yet i wonder how much love i showed to let things get this way.
I often think if i could have one wish i would put the clock back, learn from my mistakes and maintain the status quo within the family. And then i think again. Perhaps if i had two wishes this might be the second of them but surely i have a duty to see the bigger picture?

I do not like the way the world is going. Sodom and Gomorrah are our neighbours and the pale rider is running amok across our towns and cities. Richard Dawkins thinks we Christians are deluded for our belief in God, and indeed would it be any wonder that we were deluded given that a faith in these uncertain times might seem very attractive. Worst-case scenario - harmless delusion - best-case scenario - salvation!

I read in the Telegraph this morning that life-long atheist Terry Pratchett is now certain there is a creator - a God. Of course the cynical will believe that Terry's mind has gone into delusional mode due to his early symptoms of Alzheimer's disease and yet i have often found that the staunchest of atheists (and believe me Terry was staunch) are far closer to God than one might imagine. I am mindful of a phrase i heard a couple of years ago from Peter Nodding, a pastor at the Purley Baptist Church. "I remember the day very well when i decided i wanted to be good". You see quite often that is all it takes to spark off a wondrous journey - and after all, isn't this what we would all want regardless of race, colour or creed. I see Christianity as a way of keeping on the right road because without a structure human beings find it impossible to be even remotely good.

I have just penned a simple poem to reflect what i would wish for - it is a huge wish but i know it is already granted to some

If I could have but just one wish
I’d try to make it un-sel-fish
Though humans have propensity
To lie and cheat, I’d guarantee
To close my eyes and clear my mind
And wish for God to save mankind

There are other things I’d want for me
The closeness of a family
To right the wrongs of youth misspent
At least my sins I can repent
If I had never lost my temper
The pain I felt would I remember

To hear my mother’s loving voice
To always make the righteous choice
Perhaps to be a little braver
And not to let my values waver
My trials and tribulations spent
The Holy Spirit Heaven sent

If I could have but just one wish
I’d try to make it un-sel-fish

Is Eggheads a poisoned chalice?

2008-06-09T13:35:00.000-07:00

I was asked to audition to become a sixth member of BBC’s Egghead team recently but reluctantly turned down the offer on two counts. The deciding factor was when the researcher informed me that filming was to take place in mid-June when I had arranged to go and visit my father in Weymouth; however after a lot of thought and advice my mind was already made up that this show was not for me.

Although I am great friends with several of the team, which was a great incentive, the downside is the modus operandi of the production team which lends itself to a rather negative perception of your average egghead as being smug and arrogant. When the self-effacing Lord Ashman (dubbed so by our mutual friend Gavin Fuller – who incidentally also turned down the poisoned chalice) is sometimes portrayed as a know-it-all, or at least stands accused by a tiny minority of being so, then I know it is not the gig for me.
Of course Kevin is a know-it-all in the true sense of the phrase but he certainly isn’t overtly so.

In my quiz-playing days I approached the ‘sport’ as I would an exam and would cram in enormous amounts of information before a competition and forget much of it soon after. When I say to people I have a very good memory it seems as though I am stating the obvious as surely that is a prerequisite of good quizzing. Well yes of course it is but the difference is that I used my memory as a tool for winning quizzes not to impress friend or foe or even because I have much of an interest in many of the subjects I researched.

To give you an example of the kind of thing I used to do, the first quiz book I ever read was a Gyles Brandreth multiple-choice delicacy. Now I could answer every single question in the book from cover to cover and some of them were jolly tough such as “What is the weight of the earth?” however the problem was if I was asked the questions out of order then I was hopeless. You see up until that time my party piece was to recite 50 digit numbers backwards on first hearing or memorise packs of cards within two minutes and my pegs were the traditional story-type mnemonics as used by the likes of memory man extraordinaire Dominic O’Brien.

Of course I had a healthy interest in certain subjects such as Tudor history, most sports except football and rugby, the Bible, Shakespeare, some classical music, some pop music, some literature; but the subjects I actually enjoyed reading were never committed to memory intently, this would have seemed almost blasphemous and certainly would have detracted from my enjoyment. No I was a quiz pro and studied lists of what were required to increase my chances of winning. The great Donald Yule (35 years quizzing laddie!) once said “I don’t read books, I read books about books” and if the truth be known that was always my approach to quizzing. I would never be caught on a world capital, ology, symphony nickname, American president, British prime minister, world flag, autobiography, pseudonym, British sovereign, planetary information, periodic table, Oscar winner, Nobel prize winner, Chinese new year, Greek or Roman god, Eurovision winner, Miss World winner, longest, tallest, highest, Greek alphabet, radio call sign, Grand National winner of the past 50 years, FA Cup winner of the past 50 years, Olympic champions.
The thing all these groups have in common is that they are finite lists at a point in time and very easily committed to memory, take no research as such and can easily be brushed up on every few months to ensure maximum confidence. Other subjects such as film, contemporary literature, television and current affairs are more difficult to feel totally confident about as they are ever-expanding or changing and it is no coincidence that these would be weaker areas of mine. Weaker areas still are pop music and food and drink which are absolutely huge topics to try and research and I simply couldn’t be bothered except in a most superficial way.

So what kind of quiz animal does this breed?

Well in two rounds of Mastermind I went through clean answering specialised questions on Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots. This is simply because I committed to memory all the information contained in my reading list I put forward to the show. I was totally confident in my ability and it showed in my performance.
Now my worst performance was probably Brain of Britain when I scored nil point after two rounds and ended up with a paltry seven points. I had done an enormous amount of research for the show and was probably on par with the database of Lord Ashman (in the stock subjects mentioned above) who took part in the recording after mine and scored a record score of about 38!
So what went wrong?

Simple (notwithstanding the fact that he has the best recall I have ever seen), the fact is Kev sees the ever-expanding subjects such as film as finite lists almost and so his all round database is that much larger than the opposition. What I am trying to say in a considered manner is that although it can appear in some formats that there is little between the top quiz players in actuality there may be quite a gulf.

Kev and I have visited many a stately home together and we will both avidly purchase the guides and devour everything we can. Six months on I will have forgotten all except the aesthetic beauty of the surroundings whilst Kev will still remember the paintings on the wall, who built the refectory and the fact that the first gardener’s uncle was fifth in line to the throne of Abyssinia. Proof positive that he has a larger database and more efficient facility/methodology for storing facts.

This armoury makes Kevin a natural for Eggheads with its insistence on elaboration of answer, although it inevitably does not sit easily with Kev’s amiable personality.

I can think of others that would thrive in this environment (My old team mates Ray Ward and Bob Jones spring immediately to mind) and my old mucker Chris Hughes is made for this format as he has a vast knowledge of many subjects and can express this knowledge in an interesting and entertaining manner. CJ is a born exhibitionist, albeit a clever one, Judith is a delightful and naturally knowledgeable lady and Daffers is simply the best female knowledge expert in the country.

So even in my heyday I would not feel that comfortable with the format as I remember only too well that no-one likes a smart alec but more than that I know there are others out there that are now better players and far more suited to the show. Gavin would indeed be one of those at the top of my list as would Dave Edwards, Pat Gibson, Ian Bayley, Olav Bjortomt, Dave Stainer, Barbara Thompson, Bev Barber, Mark Kerr, Dag Griffiths, Ray Oakes, John Wilson, Alan Gibb, Steve Kidd, Mark Bytheway, Tim Westcott, Eric Kilby, Geoff Thomas, Diane Hallaghan, Stephen Pearson , Tony Sherwood, Keith Pottage, Mark Labbett, Michael Penrice, Darren Martin, Karl Whelan, Chris Jones, Barry Simmons, Katie Bramall, Peter Ediss, Howard Pizzey and Isabel Heward, all for varying reasons (plus 20 or 30 others with quite valid claims).

Why do all the wrong people do the important jobs?

2008-05-20T16:08:00.000-07:00

I find myself despairing of this world more and more in recent years. It seems to me that it is so often the case that the key jobs in all walks of life are taken by totally inappropriate people. Doctors and nurses seem to lack caring attitudes, politicians lack social conscience, teachers either aren’t able to or don’t want to, the media has become an advert for the prejudices and preferences of its controllers and it seems even charities are now selling themselves short by employing bureaucrats instead of carers.

Of course I am making sweeping and outrageous generalisations here as we all know there are very able people in all these professions. I must also confess I am of the age where even talk of nostalgia ain’t what it used to be!

I watched the actress Sheila Hancock being interviewed last year and loved her one-liner “I’ve never felt quite right all my life, have you?”
Well actually, er no I haven’t. Don’t think I’m a hypochondriac but the truth be known I do get very anxious when I can’t ride my bike (which has been the whole of this winter and spring due to virus upon virus) or go about my normal business. I don’t drink or smoke or over-eat or sleep around or do anything much which is detrimental to my health but thems the breaks. When I am fit and well I soon forget what went before. I think I’m probably typical of the average human being who wants reassurance that all will be well but more than that I would like to be diagnosed when I am feeling dizzy and light-headed for no apparent reason. As for the cycling, well although I often feel, why me? as summer after summer is ruined by ill health and I seem to be the only one in the club with such problems, the thing is it is only logical that the environment is going to be inhabited by the survival of the fittest, the ones who fall by the wayside don’t join a club!
I have a friend, Ritchie Venner, who is the top vets table tennis player in the country. I watched him win the southern vets the other day and it is great to see someone in their forties excelling. Now Ritchie swears he has never had a cold in his life (makes you want to swear doesn’t it) so is it any wonder he has reached the top of the pile. Oddly enough he has just popped in for a chat this evening and tells me he won the National Vets championship last weekend. The annoying thing is he is not only healthier than me but probably a better quiz player too nowadays. Is there no justice in this world!

I joined the Labour Party a few years ago. Not because I have political ambition but because I know my local MP Laura Moffatt to be a good person and worthy of support. I attend the local party meetings when I can and am always surprised at the general apathy among local members. I am one of few members who attend that has neither been mayor or a local councillor! Why is this? Do we really care about our community or do we just like to have a whinge over the garden fence. Perhaps we feel the machinations of the political web are beyond us! What I do know is that the level of objectivity at local level is not what I imagined it to be and it worries me that central government reflects this.
I voted-in the Labour candidate for my local ward last year and she was duly elected this month but rather bizarrely, I suppose, I did not vote for her although quite happy to deliver the countless number of leaflets on her behalf leading up to the election. The problem I had is that Marion, although a lovely woman and absolute salt of the earth, made her rallying cry a promise to do everything she could to replace our soon to be defunct pub. I feel we have too many pubs in Crawley and I felt I could not vote on this basis. In the same week as the local rag ran an obituary for an old friend of mine Terry Caulfield (an alcoholic) I felt justified in my view although I know I am in the minority as Marion won comfortably. The thing is Marion walks to the pub with her husband and enjoys a drink while I am an occasional drinker only so there you have an example of the “prejudices and preferences” I referred to earlier.

My gripe about teachers is not really about the personalities involved but about the whole system. With the Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads in the form of Ofsted inspectors and the lack of central funding for equipment is it any wonder there is a certain apathy among some factions of the profession. I have two friends who have been suspended from teaching following accusations of violence made against them by children although in neither case was there any evidence of violence. One left the profession for good and is now helping out in an old people’s home where he excels. Sadly, this is the norm in the present climate and it is not only accusations of violence that can ruin careers; accusations of sexual impropriety must always be considered when a teacher is in certain situations.

I know I sound like I would be a great candidate to appear on Grumpy Old Men but some things really do make me feel uneasy nowadays and I think, apart from religious intolerance – or indeed intolerance of any kind -, the most frustrating and worrying aspect of everyday life is the way the media, and our politicians who run the country, has made it more than an act of tolerance in our handling of same-sex relationships.
The one major sticking-point I have always struggled with as a Christian is the Bible’s intolerance of homosexuality. We are taught to hate the sin but love the sinner – a commendable enough act one would think – but where do we draw the line?

Fortunately we don’t have to, and neither should we – we must leave that to God.

At one end of the scale we have preachers who firmly believe that there is no conflict between being homosexual and being a Christian and at the other end we have Fred Phelps and his Westboro Church community who believe that ‘God Hates Fags’.

The average Christian stance is somewhere in the middle – but should it be?

When I was a child I had no real experience of homosexuality apart from an incident when a man offered me and my brother sixpence to go into the toilet with him at Lloyd’s Park in Croydon. I hasten to add we declined this offer!
I went to an all-boy school and did of course recognise the beauty of a very small percentage of my schoolfriends although never actively fantasising about them.
There were two brothers who ran the local bagwash in south Croydon. We had no real evidence of their gender preference but they acted in a stereotypical camp manner and were a constant source of amusement to all and sundry. The Gilbert and George of their day (in fact George is a dead ringer for the Cecil Twins as we called them).

Of course I saw The Naked Civil Servant in 1975 and felt very sorry for the persecution that Quentin Crisp endured which seemed akin to the racism which was still rife in areas.

And that was it.

I was a huge David Bowie fan, and still am. I was disappointed that David was bisexual but my love for his music and his persona transcended that and I felt more sorry that he was struggling with the fear that he might become insane as did his poor unfortunate brother Terry, who I befriended in the years before his sad death.
Bizarrely, I was not a fan of Elton John once I found out he was homosexual (I think it was his excesses) so before I say any more please understand the fickleness of the human psyche. To be fair I suppose I should expand on my apparent fickleness

In 1981 the world first heard the term HIV. Since then 25 million people have died from it. God’s curse on homosexuals? Who knows? What is interesting is that it is in the time span since HIV became known that the world became far more tolerant of homosexuality! How bizarre is that? The usual effect of a pandemic is a loathing of a known cause and a wide berth given to a potential carrier but for some reason this dreadful virus had no such effect, at least not after the initial hysteria died down. Why was this?
World icons such as Rock Hudson and Liberace died of the virus (interestingly both spent most of their public life denying they were homosexual and in Liberace’s case even won a court case to that effect) and then other high profile well-loved showbiz personalities followed. In this country we had Kenny Everett and Freddie Mercury, one of Princess Diana’s favourite singers. Perhaps the compassion shown by Lady Di to the whole HIV issue was the turning point in this country. She openly shook the hands of sufferers and had a huge impact on reassuring the ignorant that the virus could not be contracted as easily as previously suspected. Whether this was a good thing I’m not sure. As always with humans, the passage of time nullified our fears and bad habits were returned to. They always are with human beings.

Today’s environment is not so much one of homosexual tolerance but rather homosexual dominance and preference in many quarters. We now have same sex civil marriages and are led to believe this is the norm. I watched an episode of Eastenders last month where Pat and Peggy witnessed such a ceremony for two strangers and didn’t so much as mention the fact that it was two men who were tying the knot! This media representation cannot be underestimated in its persuasiveness to accept the abnormal. We have overt homosexuality in almost every other programme on the box nowadays and the proclivities of the writers are often more to blame than the reflection of the times. Life often imitates art unfortunately and those same people that were once pariahs of our society have now become pillars of the establishment. History is even being re-written in some cases. I thought it wouldn’t be long before Dr Who broached the subject as its adult version, Torchwood, is more camp than Butlins, and lo and behold we had an episode set in the 1920s with two openly homosexual men cavorting with gay abandon. I think not!
To be honest I never gave the issue of homosexuality any real thought until recently but now that it has become so mainstream I find myself looking at general character traits in the same way as I have always done with women. For instance I have deduced that a homosexual person can have a vicious tongue. I remember watching Hell’s Kitchen last year and the way Jim Davidson was vilified by Brian Dowling for being homophobic. “I have never been so insulted” was his line. Excuse me but Jim’s attitude towards Brian was one of incredulity that you can become famous without having any discernible talent. I hate bullying and this was bullying of the worst kind. If Joe Longthorne, who Jim knows very well, had been on the show perhaps the banter would have been very different. It was simply a case of talent prejudice not gender prejudice.
I’ve also found that homosexuals find being duplicitous sits very comfortably with them. I listened to a radio phone-in the other day and a lady from the National Bloodbank was explaining why homosexuals are not allowed to give blood. Although she gave considered and very sensible opinions why those most at risk would not be acceptable as blood donors I was appalled that homosexuals were ringing in and saying they gave blood by lying about their sexuality when filling in the disclaimer form. When the lady explained they were breaking the law and were acting in a very irresponsible way the stock reply was “but I know I’m clean” even though she had already explained that this was impossible to know as you can carry the virus for some time without it showing up in a blood test.
I know it is beginning to sound as if I am on the case of gay people but I am merely stating the facts. I have also noticed that every overtly homosexual man that has got to the final of Goldenballs for instance, has stolen as far as I know. I joke not. Why is this? Well I tend to think it is because many homosexual people feel abandoned by God and their lack of faith breeds a lack of morals. I watched the first episode of The Baron this week and Malcolm McLaren was one of the three celebrity contestants. Now Malcolm was one of the greatest proponents of the media indulgence of homosexuals. Through his fashion and music outlets he openly made it seem cool to be gay. The production team of The Baron didn’t miss a trick by placing Malcolm with a Christian family and he was soon to be heard giving his famous one-liner “I don’t like God – I quite like cod but I don’t like God”
Alan Duncan, the shadow business secretary, recently announced he is to become the first Conservative MP to enter into a civil partnership. Where will it all end?
I remember only a handful of years ago I found out through my contacts on national newspapers that certain MPs were homosexual. This was common knowledge among the media, and a huge story 10 years ago. No action was taken on the orders of the editors and no stories printed although it would have blown the world of politics wide open. The official line was that the stories were being sat on for the greatest possible effect but the truth is somewhat different and certainly not for me to surmise here. As it happened the scandals were all softened by a series of independent articles. I remember Matthew Parris, the openly gay former MP and columnist, writing one such article ‘accusing’ Peter Mandelson of being gay. Only the sensational stories vis-à-vis Ron Davies early morning rendezvous on Clapham Common were printed and this only served to make less seedy same-sex relationships seem more normal. Now my argument here is, can homosexuals really make a good fist of running the country when they are totally devoid of a normal upbringing and in most cases have very loose morals. That’s not to say that heterosexuals aren’t equally bad in many cases but surely, as in the case of blood donors, the risk factor requires reduction. Armed forces and the church are examples of organisations that historically have refused to employ homosexuals and yet thousands have ignored this rule with terrible consequences. I’m sure that many priests have turned to God and the church in full knowledge of their sexual preference but have felt it was their vocation because they were Christian and so felt sure they could overcome their natural bent. Unfortunately some have weakened and it is difficult to have sympathy with them as they clearly defied the ecclesiastic law in full knowledge that man is weak. History is littered with instances of homosexuals infiltrating the services, church, scouts, children’s homes and orphanages etc etc and yet we must not say anything. Even organised crime has been infiltrated and from what I have read about the Mafia and the Camorra the homosexual bosses are more bloodthirsty than their straight counterparts.
I was sitting in the garden the other day talking to a neighbour when his daughter began to tell me about a boy at school who was going out with another boy as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Now here comes the crunch. I do not think homosexuality is normal at all. It doesn’t bother me or directly affect me in any way, apart from there being little in the way of good versus bad westerns being made anymore (oh well there was Brokeback Mountain I suppose!). I know what it says in the Old Testament and various New Testament books, although Jesus says nothing in the Gospels, so it is not something that has ever been in the forefront of my mind until recently.
I believe homosexuals have a choice. Yes I really do. That’s not to say that those poor individuals who have genetically been born in the wrong bodies should not be made whole but it is to say that those that give in to their unnatural tendencies should not try and influence others in any way. Just look at what goes on in our public schools. Why is homosexuality rife? It is merely influence, nothing more. Rarely do homosexuals admit they have a choice. George Melly was one that did. He went through phases where he denied himself the pleasures of one or the other sex so was not really bisexual but his behaviour proves that it is a choice. I know it has often been assumed that Cliff Richard is homosexual although no-one has ever come forward with any evidence of it. My thoughts on the subject is that if he is then he has made the choice not to practice and to lead a good Christian life so should be revered for this. If he isn’t then I don’t know why he won’t simply say so but then I am not him but I suspect I know his reason. I’m a massive Cliff fan so it would not make any difference to me one way or another, for the reasons previously stated, but I can’t help having something at the back of my mind that says a question should always be answered honestly no matter what the repercussions. After all, Jesus wouldn’t lie and we aspire to walk in His footsteps as often as we can.
Clearly homosexuals should be treated in the same way as every other member of society. My only concern is that an unsavoury element of militant homosexuals who shout and scream HOMOPHOBIA at every opportunity are creating an environment where the structure of society will break down and we shall become like the Biblical Sodom and Gomorrah.
At Christmas I visited a local children’s hostel (16 to 18 year-olds) called Southwell Lodge with two Christian friends. We bought the children presents and Bibles and sang and played guitar and talked and played pool and generally had a good time.
Two things came out of this initial meeting. The first thing was that I vowed to the children that I would make this my local charity and become a regular visitor and help out when I could. The other two women were from outside the area so could only visit on occasion, or so we thought at the time.
I came back after Christmas to find the main helper in charge of the hostel had left and the new lady told me that I could not meet the kids until I had filled in some forms. She did not have any with her so I left my name and address and we arranged a meeting. I arrived at the meeting and she still did not have the forms but said she would send them to me. They arrived a month later. I filled them in the same day and returned them. Three months later I had heard nothing so phoned the director Peter Mansfield-Clark to try and find out what was going on. Two days later I received a letter from him thanking me for my request to become a volunteer but informing me that at this time none were required. This was totally at odds with what the council had told me when I rang them to search for a local good cause, and totally at odds with what the lady told me on my first visit. I was initially going to make an issue of it with my local MP but then thought wise of it although I shall certainly ask her to read this blog, but it is soul destroying to think that a charity can actually turn down an offer of help. I am of good character apart from my Fifteen-to-One incident (which this second lady mentioned in a very scoldy manner), I am not a paedophile, I like to raise money for charity, I get on well with kids, I showed some love by buying presents, sweets, drinks, Bibles for each child, I asked for nothing in return – and yet I am not wanted. And the forms I filled in clearly stated that even if you had a criminal record you would not necessarily be blackballed and all would be interviewed!! My only concern is that something is going on at this hostel that shouldn’t be so I am writing this by way of an insurance policy – just in case!

Oh yes the other point I wanted to make here is that one of the two fellow Christians that accompanied me on my first visit to the hostel turned out to be a lesbian. Apparently this was disclosed to the other woman in a very non-Christian way on the way home!
You see, that is the problem I have – the only problem – the problem of influence. A Christian cannot proposition another Christian if you think about it philosophically, morally or spiritually. Most Christians believe homosexuality is a sin so would not engage in homosexuality so why would a fellow Christian try to compromise you?
It is simply because that person cannot recognise the sin. They only see the potential pleasure but will not consider the spiritual wellbeing of the other person. If the other person consents to a relationship then they are both damned as hypocrites, and if not then they have knowledge that the lesbian is not a true Christian and that their world of Christian unity has been infiltrated by a hypocrite who has compromised themselves and our Lord. It is a no win situation so should never happen. Bed time for me – sorry if my words seem harsh to homosexuals but the truth is that I watched a programme last year on Fred Phelps and his Westboro Church community who believe that ‘God Hates Fags’.
Most right-minded individuals would probably think that Fred and his family are a little extreme to say the least. But this church does not survive by any form of community funding or appeals. The earnest beliefs of Fred and his family are not part of any vested-interest. They do not practice violence, although violence has been inflicted upon them. They do spit vitriol – but so did John the Baptist.
I heard a preacher once say – ‘If you saw a blind man walking towards the edge of a cliff wouldn’t you stop him’.
I have a confession to make here folks. The only reason I bothered to try and find out more about Fred Phelps was that in their wisdom Channel 4 decided to send the one person who at the time I would probably consider to be the nearest thing to someone I would describe as er let’s say – not my cup of tea! Keith Allen – a man who when I first saw him on a late night show for the same channel twenty something years ago frightened the life out of me with his aggressive personality and limited vocabulary.
If Channel 4 really believed that Fred Phelps and his church would be universally despised why send a person who is probably the top of most people’s lists as someone worthy of at least equal billing?
God does indeed work in mysterious ways!

Oh Mr Loophole i wish i could afford you!

2008-05-07T08:07:00.000-07:00

I was very interested to read about Freddie Flintoff’s fortuitous let off after being captured on camera allegedly speeding at 87mph in a 50mph zone. Apparently, and my own solicitor has confirmed this, the notice of prosecution has to be sent and received within 14 days of the offence and in this case it was received after 18 days.

Mr Loophole (Nick Freeman) must be commended for his efforts I suppose but surely this is a technicality that hardly merits the use of his trademarked name?
Surely this legal requirement is well known and the system enabled to offer the same dispensation to all?.................Not so!

In February 2001 speed cameras were put up in my street where I have lived for over 30 years. On the 12th February I apparently fell foul of this camera three times, recording one mile over the limit on one journey and two miles over the limit on the other two.
I was blissfully unaware of my crime at the time but over two days during May 2001 the three prosecution notices arrived through my letterbox. To cut a long story short my brief was certainly not aware of the time stipulation and I was found guilty and the magistrate in his wisdom decided to give me three, four and five points respectively, under the totting up procedure, which meant I was automatically banned although there is very little I could have done and once aware of the camera’s operation I obviously kept to the speed restriction.

The thing about being banned is that insurance companies do not discriminate between types of ban and speedsters, however slight, are treated in exactly the same manner as drink drivers. My own insurers, Royal Sun Alliance, immediately dropped me although I had paid up my premium in April 2001 unaware of what was to pop through my letterbox the following month. My new insurer charged me three times more than my previous premium for the next four years and so it turned out to be an expensive experience and as it happens one I could have legally avoided if only I knew my legal rights. Doh!

Sports Relief Does The Apprentice

2008-03-13T05:16:00.000-07:00

I watched Sport Relief Does The Apprentice last night and had to chuckle to myself when Sir Alan Sugar introduced the 10 celebrity contestants. His summing up of Kelvin Mackenzie was ‘our paths have crossed before….I recall calling you on one occasion after being treated badly by you and your response was fuck off”. My unrestrained laughter was simply because for Sir Alan Sugar read Trevor Montague. Yes for several years I have felt a sense of indignation over the time I rang Mr Mackenzie’s TalkSport studio to enquire about an unpaid bill for some work I did for him only to be greeted with exactly the same four-lettered response and a further valedictory outburst of the most vile language I have ever heard. I was so shocked my first instinct was to report the incident to the police as an assault but after talking to my father and my friend Jeremy Beadle, who informed me that this was almost a term of endearment from the former newspaper editor, I realised this would be fruitless and perhaps I was being a bit of a wuss. The truth is although my sensitivities were undoubtedly offended I considered that if this man could talk to me in such a manner for no apparent reason then he could bully anyone in a similar vein and this should not be allowed. Anyway, it was heartening to know that the great business guru had the same experience of the man as myself and in a way it laid to rest any remaining feelings of violation I may have felt. Mr Mackenzie may be a foul-mouthed bully but at least he picks on the big boys on occasion!

I don’t usually like the idea of celebrity contestants or indeed charity editions of successful shows per se as they tend to be stylised (rigged) beyond the bounds of human tolerance. Sport Relief is not one of my favourite charities after I was forced to fight a two-year campaign on behalf of 30 local special needs children from Crawley College whom I had promised a trip to Old Trafford and a signed Manchester United shirt after winning this as a prize on a Comic Relief quiz show. Between the BBC and Comic Relief they had contrived to give my prize to 30 children in the north of England, or at least that was what I was told as there was absolutely no public accountability whatsoever. My prize was clearly for 30 ‘local’ children and it was only after I threatened to pay for the trip myself but publicise the reason why, did they finally relent and give us a coach to transport the kids to Manchester. We never did receive the shirt, which I could have auctioned for thousands of pounds at one of my quizzes, but the children did have a day that they will never forget…………….and so did i. I fell asleep on the coach going home and woke up with one of the boys giving me a French kiss! I’ve never been confused!

Anyway, Sport Relief Does The Apprentice, was unusually good value. Of course it would have had its usual remit of trying to keep it real but with the characters chosen this was achieved quite naturally and Phil Tufnell and Hardeep Singh Kohli in particular were very funny and would make a great double act.
The premise for the show was that the five men and five women had to beg, borrow and steal items to be sold by them at a celebrity bash for exorbitant prices.
It was never in doubt that the more organised women were going to win, despite Bernie Ecclestone’s doubling of the men’s takings, but with Mr Mackenzie’s natural propensity to offend coupled with the equally natural juvenile humour of Hardeep, Tuffers and Nick Hancock, the result seemed incidental.
My favourite one-liners included Tuffers calling Sir Alan, Sir Sugar and Hardeep replying to Sir Alan’s story about a chapatti that disagreed with him ‘It’s your chapatti you can cry if you want to’. The award for quick wittedness also goes to Hardeep for his magnificent retort to Mr Mackenzie’s earlier reference to him being like Hitler (this prompted Hardeep to resign as team leader after 45 minutes in the job). In Sir Alan’s final summing up he told Hardeep not to expect a Christmas Card from Mackenzie to which Kelvin responded “quite right, where do you live” and quick as a flash Hardeep replied “just outside Berlin apparently”. Inspired!

Who’ll be fired? Be interesting to see if Sir Alan harbours a grudge against Mr Mackenzie. I know it’s only TV but it does add a certain edge to proceedings : )

See Naples And Die!

2008-02-26T01:51:00.000-08:00

I had always considered this famous phrase to be a reference to the beauty and opulence of this once magnificent and thriving city. Alas, in the Naples of today this expression is more likely to allude to the likelihood of either being killed by the noxious air, diseased rats, errant motorists or the local mafia – the infamous Camorra.

My illusions were dashed from the start when I landed at Capodichino Airport and was accosted by several taxi drivers all wanting to charge me 50 Euros (a tad over £40) to take me to my hotel on the Piazza Garibaldi, some four miles south of the airport!
I eventually managed to haggle a price of 20 Euros but instinctively knew this was a harbinger of what was to come.

I decided to have a jog down to Naples harbour on my first evening and became immediately aware of two things; the distinct lack of women in the streets at night and the overwhelming stench of all manner of waste products and carrion strewn with gay abandon in huge windswept piles creating an atmosphere of deprivation and squalor.

I saw a vagrant propped up against the harbour wall in a prone position oblivious to the large brown rats running amok in his vicinity occasionally daring to dart across his pathetic body. Further on I witnessed the first of several bonfires at the side of the road and was later informed this was the Camorra making a token gesture of clearing the rubbish as they have control over the landfill sites and make billions from their ‘enterprise’.
As I ventured into the quieter backstreets I saw gangs of youths just hanging around smoking and drinking in typical macho style, a sideways glance up as I passed appearing to suggest I was being sized up in the same way a bird of prey might calculate the possibilities of a successful swoop. Fortunately for me I was wearing a bright white track suit, yellow bandana and sunglasses and looked sufficiently menacing myself not to be approached without caution.

The never-ending stream of traffic made crossing the wide roads a very dangerous prospect. Although there are numerous elongated ‘zebra-crossings’ it seems motorists do not feel obliged to stop at them and it was not until my second day did I become blasé about this and realise these crossings were in fact a test of your nerve as although traffic would whiz by you fore and aft if you walked directly in front of a car whilst traversing the black and white grid lines, it would play ‘dare’ with you but invariably brake at the last moment. Mainly through exasperation and a kind of stupid bravado, after day two I decided to take a cavalier attitude to the crossings and literally closed my eyes and went for it but always feeling that sense of relief when arriving safely at the other side.
A couple of things I found it harder to get used to on the roads was the constant honking and tooting of horns filling every moment of your day and the propensity of motorists to not only drive on both sides of the road but also on the pavements during the 24-hour rush hour period! Early on in my visit I was knocked out of the way by a passing motorcyclist whilst minding my own business looking in a shop window. And these people do not saunter along the pavements they travel at normal speeds defying you to get in their way.

My second day started with far more promise. A friendly bus driver refused to take a fare for safe passage to the central train station and I was soon on my way to explore Pompeii and Herculaneum, the cities devastated by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD. Despite the almost Arctic conditions one couldn’t fail to gain a sense of the scale of destruction or indeed the painstaking efforts to excavate such a vast area.

On my way back to my hotel I met two French women on the train, one of which had been robbed of all her money on her first day in Naples. I gave her 50 Euros which she reluctantly accepted, both women shedding tears of joy, and I sensed relief, that not all human beings are on the make. This reaction was probably the highlight of my holiday although I was relieved when we parted as it is surprisingly uncomfortable to be in the company of someone you have done a kindness for as you feel this could possibly be misconstrued as either wanting something for your money or probably more accurately because you are aware it is embarrassing for them. Although I love to do random acts of kindness I think this one was prompted by my joy at finally finding someone in Italy who actually spoke English. A French woman!

I took a ferry from Naples to the Isle of Capri the next day. A pleasant 40 minute journey followed by a longer private boat ride around the island to visit the various different coloured grottos. I had been trying to hire a bicycle for days but to no avail so you could imagine my frustration when I finally found a cycle hire shop only to be thwarted by a besom broom strategically placed diagonally across the door jamb to serve notice not to enter. I waited over an hour for the shopkeeper to return and then relayed my plight to a local resident who sent me to the head office of the shop but alas that too was closed.
I decided to take a chance and borrow a bike from the shop and proceeded to cycle up the mountain road towards the summit. I was tooted at by a motorcyclist midway up the climb and soon recognised the rider to be the man who had just ferried me around the island. “Eh” he said “I have never seen you on a bike before. I didn’t know you cycled” Which I felt was really odd as the guy knew I was a tourist on a day trip!
In no time the sweat was pouring off me but 20 minutes later I was at the summit and when a policeman stopped me at the top I thought the game was up but fortunately he merely told me I could go no further and now had to descend. The descent was so fast I passed two motorcyclists which I assumed were tourists as the typical Italian motorist would never let themselves be overtaken (an example of this was when I was on a bus back from the architectural museum and almost unbelievably it re-overtook a passing ambulance which had its lights and siren on at full tilt).
Anyway, when I arrived back at the shop I saw the broom still in place and thanked God for my good fortune.

My final day in Naples was quite eventful. I set out from my hotel with a fellow traveller and was immediately approached by a market trader wishing to sell me a laptop. Now you have to understand that Naples is a huge city and unemployment is high. As well as the many thousands of traditional stores of all kinds there is an even larger number of street vendors, some set up on stalls and others merely plying their trade from the pavement. Perhaps unfortunately for me my friend happened to be an IT teacher and assured me that I was being offered an exceptional deal as I managed to knock the guy down from 250 Euros to £40 plus my last remaining five Euros. Within seconds of making my purchase another vendor produced the latest state-of-the-art Sony Vista laptop and although I told him I had already bought one my friend now started to sit up and take notice at this marvellous machine. He followed us half a mile up the road and again the 250 Euros original price was haggled down to £45 English. I did of course wait until my friend had the laptop safely in the case before I parted with the money and all seemed well. Or rather my more suspicious friend immediately felt the case was slightly light so opened it up only to find two bags of salt inside. I then opened up my bag to find another two bags of salt. I couldn’t help but laugh but could plainly see my friend was upset although admiring of the skill of the operation. I then became saddened too when I thought of the evil intent of these people. A policeman pulled up in his car at the precise moment of the sting but didn’t want to know of course and I retraced my footsteps back to the hotel in the certain knowledge that I would never see the perpetrators of this crime ever again.
Virtually every stall-holder mumbled words of sorrow as I traipsed past them with my two bags. “Camorra” was the recurring word offered to me as if this justified their silence. It seems every man and his dog knew exactly what was going on but chose to turn a blind eye to these people and let them rob tourists without question. One man told me it was out of fear of reprisal and another one told me it was because it would be futile as the police and carabinieri are corrupt and more likely to imprison witnesses than the Camorra.

I was never so pleased to get back to good old much-maligned Blighty. For all our problems we do not have schools being closed as in Naples because of the fear of disease. We do not have corrupt officials (in the main) and we do not have itinerant salesmen hindering the progress of tourists at every opportunity.

My first stop-off on arrival at Gatwick was to call in to my local supermarket to buy some provisions and I had a wry smile to myself when I spotted two youngsters, wearing fluorescent yellow bibs, picking up the litter from the streets.
It was good to be home.

Farewell to Jeremy Beadle

2008-02-14T22:20:00.001-08:00

I said farewell to Jeremy Beadle today.

As a committed Christian I feared a humanist funeral would not sit easy with me, but far from having any feelings of irreverent indignation I found myself totally absorbed by the passion and love in the house for our mutual friend.

Not a cleric in sight and yet this was the most devout and earnest of occasions. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, after all, we all knew that Jeremy would not want a sombre atmosphere and God knows speaker after famous speaker reminded us of this, but how does one feel joy when remembering the life of one that was taken from us too early?

I attended the funeral of my old headmaster the other day. John Piper was a great man, a learned man, but he died aged 93, a good age by any standards. He will be missed by many but there can be few remonstrations having lived a full and lengthy life.

Jeremy too was a great man, the most remarkable man I ever knew in fact. The star-studded guest list today paid dutiful homage to his networking skills par excellence but much more than this showed off his supreme diversity of interests as representatives from show business, publishing, sport, commerce, medicine, education and music stood united in their love for a true one-off. Jeremy engendered love wherever he went, I instinctively and quite naturally kissed him on the cheek whenever we met, the only man outside my immediate family I have ever troubled in this manner. He too was a learned man and certainly lived a full life but he died prematurely, aged 59, still having so much ambition and so much to do.

As it happens the occasion turned out to be a great mix of gaiety and sadness, almost in the vein of an Irish Wake, the entertaining anecdotes in celebration of Jeremy’s life interspersed with more solemn tributes turning laughter into tears in an instant.

Perversely, Jeremy’s untimely death has served as a memento mori for me, not in a pessimistic way you understand, but rather as a reminder that even the greatest among us have no control on when we leave this mortal coil. His passing somehow makes the thought of dying less daunting. If it is good enough for Beadlebum then its good enough for me!

Books

2008-02-03T12:12:00.000-08:00

My Friend Jeremy Beadle

2008-02-03T12:05:00.000-08:00

Today I feel like I have lost a brother.

Jeremy Beadle MBE has died and I feel strangely miffed at the passing of one of the real good guys.

As a Christian I can usually come to terms with the vicissitudes of life, and death, and convince myself of the bigger picture, but when the passing seems premature it is always more difficult to understand.

Of course in Jeremy’s 59 years on this earth he packed in several lifetimes of experiences. Humanitarian, wit, raconteur, bibliophile, intellectual and thoroughly decent bloke; all of these he was in spades. He was also a loyal and trusted friend.

We hosted many charity quizzes together and took part in several others as team-mates.

As a host he was second-to-none. His ‘Beadle’s Barmy Bingo’ would often start proceedings off. Corporate team-members would come up and pay their £20 for a ticket, their expectations high. The game would start and soon the expectations became even higher as invariably, and inevitably, every player in the hall would be sweating on one number. And then in an ear-shattering crescendo of unified noise house would be called and the winning player would rise from their seat……………..that is……..every player! The genial host had rigged the game so that everyone would shout on the same number. This always brought loud guffaws of laughter but also served as a ploy to get the kitty going for whatever charity he was representing as no-one ever asked for their money back. The barmy bingo also defrosted the audience somewhat and by the end of the evening Jeremy would have everyone dancing on the tables, quite literally, the men often with their trousers around their ankles. Jeremy insisted his quiz nights were fun with a capital F.

As a quiz-player Jeremy was formidable to say the least. A Celebrity Mastermind winner, a multiple victor on Win Beadle’s Money, a member of an all-star team that won a British Quiz Association Grand Prix, and a top-30 placing as an individual in the British Quiz Championship of 2002. You see Jeremy had read virtually all of the tens of thousands of books he had collected in his magnificent library.

As a friend he was everything one would want and he showed me many kindnesses over the years. Our first contact was when Jeremy rang me up out of the blue to congratulate me on coming second to him in a poll of the nation’s top pranksters (I once pretended to be an Italian freelance writer to thwart the rules of Fifteen-to-One).
After the A to Z of Everything was published in 2001 Jeremy invited me to his home to sign a couple of copies of his ‘favourite book’. At least that is what Jeremy had told me. Of course he knew so many authors and you take these things with a pinch of salt but the following year he told me he almost pulled out of Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway after the production company refused to let him take a copy of my book into his ‘prison’ in the ‘Banged Up With Beadle’ section. You see, Jeremy had a way about him to always make you feel special. Incidentally, this sojourn into reality television left Jeremy vowing “never again” as uncomplimentary editing left him to the mercy of an unscrupulous team. He was later offered vast sums to appear on other reality shows but turned them all down for the sake of his beloved wife Sue and their children Bonnie and Cassie.
On one occasion Jeremy had invited me round for dinner and as I was with Chris Hughes (he of Eggheads fame) earlier in the day I turned up with Chris in tow, totally unannounced. Jeremy and Sue were completely unphased and welcomed Chris as one would an old friend. It turned out that Jeremy had organised this meeting as a networking exercise for me as I was soon to have my A to Z of Sport published. The other guests were the chief sports writer with The Times, the Leyton Orient chairman and the author of the Guinness Book of the Olympics. I couldn’t possibly divulge what we spoke about that evening but suffice to say Jeremy commented at separate times “wouldn’t the papers have a field day with this” and “wouldn’t this make a great television show” as revelation after revelation were disclosed. In vino veritas. The other remarkable thing about this particular evening was that although it was unquestionably of a sporting theme Jeremy actually had no interest in sport whatsoever!

On another occasion Jeremy invited me as a guest on his radio show and dedicated the whole programme to a phone-in where people could discuss my book’s content and ask us any question they liked and we would endeavour to answer them all.

We travelled up to Leicestershire in his car once and I commented that he knew almost everybody in show business. I went on to ask him who his particular heroes were and he replied “people like you”. Again I am sure this was a case of schmoozing the immediate company but what this did tell me was that Jeremy was never happier than when he was around quiz folk. He was a true scholar and shared the same thirst for knowledge as myself and I shall miss his advice on the latest reference book must-buy.
I shall also miss his always sound advice in dealing with my publisher, press, friends and enemies.

I read Henry Kelly’s wonderful obituary in today’s Sunday Telegraph and it brought a tear to my eye. Henry described the real Jeremy Beadle, the one I and all his friends knew.

He was universally loved by the general public and to go walkabout with Jeremy meant having to stop repeatedly for autographs and mobile phone calls as members of the public loved to have him talk to their loved ones on the phone.

I shared a lunchtime bun and coffee with Max Clifford a year or two ago when we were both at the BBC plugging our books. The subject of our mutual friend arose and Max confessed quite openly “I at least deserve my reputation as I am a bit of a b****** but Jeremy is the loveliest man on earth and does not deserve his”

I cannot comment on Max’s credentials but I can vouch that Jeremy was truly a great man, a noble man, a gentle man. He has left such a yawning gap in all our lives my heart goes out to Sue, Bonnie, Cassie, Leo and Clare.

God bless them and God bless Jeremy.