Wednesday 28 September 2016

40 Somethings

Well I’ve nearly made it through the first year of my forties, a time when life supposedly begins.
I’ve read a lot lately on various forums that I subscribe to about this decade of your life being absolutely dreadful, with ‘supporting evidence’ along the lines of: 
 
You can’t run uphill anymore
 
Your body stops working
 
More people you know start to die than get married or have children
 
Your children shout at you because they will be older than babies and probably) younger than 20
 
If you don't have children you may have resent or regret

You’ve had a mid-life crisis, or are expecting one soon
 
Injuries take an age to heal – if ever…

You have to watch your weight and take more medication

You go grey, or bald – or both

Everyone shouts at you
 
You piss people off all the time
 
You miss Downton Abbey

You've either taken on too much at work in a bid to keep up, or you're
stuck in a dead end employment

You worry about your health, your aging parents’ health and your children’s health, all in the same conversation

You might have enough money to treat all this stress with red wine or beer but, if you do, you will put on 5 stone just opening the bottle

You’re a narcissist and neurotic at the same time
 
So some of the above is funny, some is rubbish, and maybe just some of it is concerning.
I also did a Google search for ’40 Somethings’ which for some reason by and large elicited Jennifer Aniston.

Rachel - She'll always be there for you

It’s all very personalised though isn’t it?
 
I recall having a wobble of sorts just after I turned 30, believing nobody loved me and that I’d lost my salad days forever etc. (total rubbish of course) – yet 10 years later, having passed 40, I had no thoughts of a similar ilk, and found that I simply encountered a different set of life issues instead. Such as anti-depressants, and taking dare into my stride by hoying myself out of plane for charrriiiidddeeeee, which was incredibly amazing, but it does sound equally incredibly insane.
The medication wasn’t (isn’t) for depression so to speak, but for anxiety, which I still don’t understand fully, but I think it helps take the edge off for me in these times. It means I shout less, and panic less, and this is definitely progress. The doctor described it as "life in the 21st Century"
 
Tiredness is the killer for me – which will make Mrs Berrylogs laugh and frown in equal measure as she feels I get more lie ins than her (I do).
The juggle of working, being a dad to three at key stages in their own lives (17, 13, 4), maintaining a hopefully healthy marriage and striving to keep a social life going does take it out of you … and after that there’s still the vacuuming and ironing to do!
 
Football used to be my anti-depressant medication, but the older I’ve got, the more I’ve come to accept that the beautiful game is largely just about luck, and therefore I’m now content not to hit the stress / destress levels with quite the same anger as might have been the case in the past. Football is still good escapism, but I don’t find myself having my nights ruined just because the Albion lost anymore. This is also a good thing! It doesn’t mean I enjoy football any less, it just means I’m less likely to have a heart attack on a stadium concourse over it. Touch wood.
 
What does annoy me on a daily basis though, is eating. I love the food I love (who doesn’t?) but find it doesn’t love me back as much. What a bitch eh!?
Not sure how I help things regarding this as my limited food range hinders major changes to my diet. And I could never ever give up salt & vinegar crisps (I'd sooner give up chocolate.)
 
My drinking habits haven’t changed much in 20 odd years now, but one day that may catch up with me. Never had a hangover yet though and hopefully never will, so long may that continue. Still laughing at the outright anger I encountered a few weeks ago when someone refused to accept this as fact. I could only put their response down to jealousy.
Either that or they thought I was lying?
 
Am I grumpier, now I’m older? Yes probably, but don’t begrudge 40 Somethings that – they often delight in being a grump!
 
Socially it’s actually pretty tasty as things stand. Regular gatherings of various kinds keep that fun ticking along.
Do I miss the old days of pubbing and clubbing? (See previous blog November 1993 !)
I don’t so much desire to do it now, but I enjoy reliving and reviving the past on occasion. At a friend’s recent 40th birthday party, where some lifelong friends rolled back 20 years and had a great night, one said to me that they"missed nights like these", but I believe everyone and everything has their time... that said, there’s no reason to stop enjoying it just because we’re twice as old. In all honesty I don’t feel much differently to how I felt 20 years ago anyway, though my body might sometimes disagree.
 
The truth of it all is that I feel very lucky, and very happy where I am at the moment. Things could always be worse, and this is sadly very true for some people I know. Compared to some, I have nothing worth complaining about.
 
Going back to an earlier point in this post, it is true that a sadly regular flow of people I grew up with have passed away, whereas before the age of 38, I think I went well over 10 years in not experiencing any kind of loss. At the rate of one a year since then, it only adds resolve to want to enjoy life while you can, and ride over the aggravation that pops up on occasion.
 
Relax if you can and chill in your 40s – you might find you enjoy them after all!

Friday 6 May 2016

SkyDiving for Myeloma


Bit of a sales pitch blog this time, as a one – off!


On Saturday May 21st this year I am doing a charity skydive for my longtime friend Pepita-Louise Brooks.

I met Pepi when we were about 9 years old (back in the eclectic 80's) and we had loads of fun playing together in the woods near my parents’ home in Portslade, East Sussex. And if you like your minutiae, it was often Indiana Jones based!


As is often the case, we lost contact over the years growing up, but since the turn of the century we've never been more than an eMail or a Facebook status away.

Like many of her close friends and family, I was extremely sad to hear that Pepi had been diagnosed with Myeloma – an incurable cancer that so few people seem to know much about. But what admiration we've all had for her spirit and incredibly optimistic approach to this burden she's had to bear and fight. 

Pepi is truly an inspiration to anyone who has had this form of cancer, and I know she has offered support to many others along the way.


The least I can do, as one of her oldest friends, is to help raise some awareness and funds for this worthy charity. I hope you can help me achieve this goal!


Any donations would be gratefully received at:

Wednesday 23 December 2015

95 / 96 – BritPop and Lime Green Summers


As we draw a close to 2015, and approach 2016, it’s dawned on me that it’s been 20 years since one of the favourite periods of my youth.

I say youth, but does 20 years old count as a youthful age!?

Both 1995 and 1996 bring back many memories for me – thankfully most of them good! I remember feeling in just a bit more of a bouncy good mood and seemingly much more confident in myself for some reason, having been quite the shy lad for far too many years. I think that maybe the glandular fever, anaemia and fatigue I’d had flirtations with over the few years previous had finally been left in the past, and I never really felt I had anywhere near enough the fun in my late teens as I ought to have had.

I can’t even specifically put my finger on why these years have lingered longer in the annals than others. There were no life changing events, but the time just had a buzz for me that for whatever reason I’ve not been able to easily forget.

So what was it about ’95 and ‘96?

Maybe it was the music?

In the first half of the nineties, I found that there wasn’t a particular collective of music that I could (or wanted) to fall into. There were, of course, many fantastic songs during this period though – indeed one of my favourite ever songs came out in 1994 (Baby I Love Your Way Big Mountain), but largely the charts felt just much of a muchness. And then out of the shadows of the rumblings of the Indie scene, came its commercial cousin: BritPop
 

It had taken me a while to get into any kind of alternative genres, as perhaps my tastes were limited? But once I’d listened to Blur’s ‘Parklife’ and Oasis’ ‘Definitely Maybe’ albums, I – like many others – fell straight in with it. Blur’s follow up album ‘The Great Escape’ came out in the late summer of 1995 and I loved it instantly.

There was also a huge amount of hype that surrounded BritPop, culminating in a media / press battle going on between the two powerhead bands previously mentioned. I suppose it was a modern day equivalent of the 1960’s chart battles between The Beatles and The Rolling Stones (albeit not sales volumes wise) although those two legendary bands were actually on friendly terms with each other, and the same couldn’t be said about Blur and Oasis! It wasn’t just those two bands though – there was suddenly a ton of good music around. The Different Class album by Pulp, to name but one additional gem, had a number of songs that gave a keenly accurate soundtrack in representing the time we were living in.

BritPop has rightfully gone down in history as an immensely popular phase of music, and although it was all too short lived, it provided a helluva soundtrack for the mid-nineties.

To compound the zeitgeist I went with friends to Wembley Arena to see Blur in concert just before Christmas, and Pulp at the Brighton Centre a few months later. Bands at their peak and in their prime, and both were cracking gigs full of energy. Oasis at Knebworth was out of reach unfortunately!

It wasn’t all about BritPop though. Earlier in 1995, as a huge fan I’d been long awaiting the new Michael Jackson album, and when ‘HIStory’ was released, I wasn’t disappointed.

I’d also been to see The Rolling Stones at Wembley Stadium, and the self-styled ‘Greatest Rock & Roll Band’ could still do the business and belted out their back catalogue in some style. And for completeness, even The Beatles made something of a comeback, having a hugely successful mini renaissance with the release of their Anthology series – in fact in 1996 they ended as the biggest selling album artists for the first time in nearly 30 years. Gradually building up my massive music collection, I was grateful to receive their ‘Abbey Road’ album as a Christmas present in 1995.

Not only that, I was also happy as Michael Jackson attained the coveted Christmas number one single (when it actually meant something!) with ’Earth Song’, holding off The Beatles’ ‘new’ track ‘Free as a Bird’, and the respective versions of ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis and The Mike Flowers Pops.

The range of music was immense, and I could waffle on about loads more, but with the word count ticking up, I’ll summarise to say that we also had the euphoria of Three Lions, taking the already stunning Lightning Seeds further into orbit. Plus the phenomenon of the Spice Girls:
 
Not forgetting Paul Weller’s ‘Stanley Road’ and the return of George Michael – who’d been away even longer than Michael Jackson. And of course, the Return of the Mack

Maybe it was the football?

This was also a monumental period for football. I’m not talking about Euro ’96 though, although that WAS stirring for the memory banks in many ways too, but ultimately football did NOT come home as we had ultimately wanted it to. As alluded to above, you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing the football anthem ‘Three Lions’ being played from a pub or a car that summer – very catchy and emotive stuff.

No, I’m talking about the pitch invasion at Brighton and Hove Albion’s Soldstone Goldstone Ground as fans drew attention to the footballing world about just what was happening to our club.
 
Football often provides a backdrop to my recollections, but the period 1995 – 1997 inclusive was about as intense as I suspect it will ever be in my lifetime.

In April 1996 we played York City. We’d heard rumours that ‘something’ would happen, but no-one expected the scenes that followed at around 15 minutes into the game. I was in the North Stand and watched on as thousands of fans poured onto the pitch in a bid to get the game abandoned. The national media called it a ‘riot’, which it never was. There was a family in front of us on the pitch eating strawberries and cream from a picnic basket, whilst sitting on a rug. That is NOT the scene of a riot. After a few minutes, the game was indeed abandoned as both goal crossbars were snapped in half, making it impossible for the game to be restarted.

Thankfully it became quickly evident that hooliganism was not alive and well in England again, and that Brighton’s fans protests had absolutely been a cry for help. Our club was being ravaged by money-men and wrong doers, and we – the fans – were caring for it in a very animated way. It carried on in a similar vein for another 12 months, when we ultimately proved that off the field, fans united will never be defeated.

On the field it was very hard to get behind the team with such aggravation going on, but once the directors had left the scene, the focus and atmosphere at the home games in particular was spectacularly good, as we fought for our very existence. For a passionate football fan, these were thrilling times.

Maybe it was work?

Aged 20, I’d still not decided what sort of career I wanted to have (at 40 I still haven’t!) but work was at least relatively care free and fun during this time, as referred to in some of my earlier blogs:




Christmas at work in 1995 was the start of some proper responsibility based grafting. My manager had broken her ankle just before Christmas and had to take the whole period off work, so with the deputy store manager having little faith in her understudy, I was asked to run the Deli over Christmas. I loved my first taste of properly being in charge, and I pulled up trees to make the counter as successful as possible over the main period of 21st-24th December. Considering I was quite the novice, we did spectacularly well. I finished at 5pm on Christmas Eve absolutely knackered, but I knew I’d done a really good job and consequently I got my first ever promotion at work – with my pay rising up to all of £6.50 an hour!
 
My achievement didn’t come without an element of jealousy from others sadly. Two or three work colleagues, who up till then had been really good friends of mine, turned on me simply because I wasn’t ‘one of the lads’ anymore in their eyes. Fair play to one of them, who some months later actually apologised to me for saying I’d had an attitude problem.

I firmly believed that no-one had any grounds to be so unkind – they turned on me just for effect. It made me think of something my Dad had said to me years before, in that your work mates are never your friends – just colleagues and acquaintances, and I should always bear that in mind. Maybe it’s too much of a generalisation, but there are strong enough elements to compound the theory on occasion. Bizarrely I got a second promotion at work just 6 months after the first and the new problem I had to contend with, was being intimidated. 

The store manager was literally a larger than life guy, and in all honesty I don’t recall more than 3 or 4 conversations I ever had with him in the few months we worked together. In the interview he asked me what I thought about people with a big ego. I honestly answered that:

I can’t stand that sort of person” – to which he replied:

Well you and me aren’t going to get along then!”

I still have no idea if he was joking. Either way, I spent most of the first month hiding in the toilets on my own at lunch break.

And people say I wasn’t shy…!

Oh, and a top tip for y’all: Do NOT date work colleagues.
#learningcurve


Maybe it was miscellany?

In 1995 I started writing poetry. I’d never been that fussed about reading poetry, let alone composing it, but I started in earnest and began writing down thoughts and poems about relevant things to me and ended up carrying on for years. It was always written in an emotional theme and always with a lot hope and desire that one day I’d gain a particular kind of contentment and happiness. I don’t think it was a coincidence that I more or less ‘dried up’ writing at around the time my son was born. It seemed that maybe as an unwritten statement many of my hopes had been reached.

I also had a car chase in the wee small hours with my lights out one night in the summer of ’95! The least said about that the better…!
 
In 1996 I bought my first desktop personal computer. Hardly anyone I knew had one – compare that to now, where people simply cannot operate their lives without such similar derivatives. Ridiculously it cost over £2000!

I also played a lot of snooker around this time and frequently went to ‘The 147 Club’ in Brunswick Street, Hove, which was always good fun. We always used to have a great laugh at the expense of the bar staff there – in particular a guy we used to call ‘Serge’, after the Bronson Pinchot character in the Beverly Hills Cop movies. One night a few of us won the £250 ‘cash pot’ out of the fruit machine which was a nice little bonus!

Maybe it was sociality?
I don’t know what changed, but from about mid 1995 I belatedly started having a decent social life at last – even going out clubbing midweek, whereas before I wouldn’t bother going out anywhere if I’d had a bath earlier in the evening as it just felt like too much effort.

Quite often from 1995 and even more so into 1996 (even though I usually had work the next day) I would end up nightclubbing down the Event II on a Tuesday or the Paradox on a Thursday – the so called ‘student’ nights. The booze was as cheap as chips (usually no more than £1.50 a drink) and there was a heavier emphasis on playing a lot more of the music I liked. It was far more commercial than would be heard on a Saturday at the same venues, so I was more inclined to enjoy myself for that reason alone.
 
I even hit a spell of doing what most 20 year old boys should be doing – namely being on the pull! Honestly this was a relief as I was starting to think my middle name was Chastity. Friends and family even pondered that I might be gay. I think my mum would’ve loved a big gay son!

It’s fair to say that I had no idea what I was myself though as a) I had so little attention coming my way, and b) I was pretty uninclined to try as I was too shy to ask anyone out anyway!


Anyways – actually managing to occasionally pull helped my confidence no end and socially I felt I’d grown up a bit at last… though in my naivety I recall getting stitched up very early in 1996. Me and some mates were at the Paradox and I wound up buying this one girl drinks all night etc. only for her to sod off without me come 2am
#morelearningcurves

I believe this was also the night when me and one of my mates got out of our Taxi about half a mile from home and, (as drunk) fell over and had a little sleep in the middle of the road! I reckon Taxis and any cars must have just driven round us paying little attention – we must have been there for a good twenty minutes though! I would guess it was the uncommon knocking back of the Jack Daniels shots earlier in the evening that did for us…

Another nights’ exertions lead to the aerial of my first car (a 1978 brown Mini Clubman – RIP) being snapped off by one jealous colleague, and an aggressive confrontation in a Sainsburys chiller by another jealous one! If this was the norm, I’d clearly missed out on this sort of fun for years. #evenmorelearningcurves

Another funny night was had at the Irish pub ‘O’Neill’s’ (where, incidentally, Brighton & Hove Albion was formed in 1901) with a terrifically funny guy from work and his family and mates (all Irish.)

His brothers were playing in a band there, and we got absolutely slaughtered on Guinness and I knocked back ten pints in just under two hours, ‘singing’ along to Irish songs I didn’t know the words to. I’d never drunk such volume so quickly before, and I’ve not done it since either, but the atmosphere was so good and everything just flowed perfectly. At around 10pm we staggered over to the night club and had to straighten ourselves out to make sure we actually got in – I remember being ordered to stop singing in the queue, or we wouldn’t be allowed in. Nightclub bouncers were often a different breed, but I never once got refused entry.

Maybe it was the Lime Green summer?

1996 was a glorious summer – and for no other reason than everyone seemed to be wearing lime green clothes for the duration, it was forever known to me by that moniker. On the beach or seeing customers whilst I was at work… it seemed to be the colour of choice everywhere.
 
Maybe it doesn’t matter…

I know that it Definitely Maybe wasn’t Maybelline.

But it was Definitely Maybe memorable to me.