not sport | Wait until next year

December 23, 2009

Ten little things that helped make 2009 a good year

We think in generalities, but we live in detail.

Alfred North Whitehead
English mathematician & philosopher (1861 – 1947)

The web and the wider world are full of ‘best of’ lists, looking back at the past year and indeed the last decade. However, I thought I didn’t have a whole lot worth adding to the more general debates, such as best albums, best films, best sportsmen and women. Does the world really need another end of year/decade review?

So…instead I’ve decided to compile a list of some ‘little’ things I’ve enjoyed this year. Maybe this will offer a tiny insight into my world, and hopefully prompt some thought on those little things in life that make the world a more enjoyable place. Life is all in the details.

1. The seaside

This year I’ve been to the seaside several times with my Significant Other, and had a wonderful time on every occasion. In the UK we’re really lucky in that you are never that far from the sea. Maybe there is some primal pull, but more likely it’s great to regress to being a kid again, with ice creams, crazy golf, dashing around the arcades, skimming stones and fish and chips on the beach. We realised that we can jump on a train and in an hour or so effectively be on holiday, if only for the day. A great way to ‘get away from it all’, and cheap too!

2. Actually going to the football

I used to go to games all the time years ago, but I think following a team week-in, week-out is probably a young man’s game. Saying that, there’s nothing to stop me going to see a match from time to time, and I’ve got back into that this year, again accompanied by my ever-supportive Significant Other. We live close to Charlton Athletic, who late last season started giving tickets away as they hurtled towards relegation. This season has been far better for them, and popping down the other week on a whim and catching a game was a lot of fun.

3. Piccolo coffee

I was never a big coffee drinker. But this year I’ve fallen for the trendy coffee brigade’s fancy drinks. A piccolo is kind of like a very strong, yet miniature, latte, essentially an espresso topped up with a little milk. I’ll often grab one from a little coffee stall near work, generally at lunchtime, to kickstart my afternoon. It is absolutely delicious, and a welcome change from the luke-warm, sugary, whipped cream abominations from the big chains. I’m on course to become a coffee snob!

4. Scoring baseball

More to come on this soon, folks, I promise. But generally speaking, I had real fun following this year’s MLB season. Even though the Mets were beyond rubbish.

5. Staying in on a Saturday night

I used to get rather jittery staying in on a Saturday night, worried I was at home while everyone else was out having fun. No more. I think I’ve finally hit full-fledged Grumpy Old Man mode, and so can’t abide jostling crowds and overpriced drinks in trendy bars, or nightbuses home from dingy nightclubs. Also, I’ve loved spending some time with my Significant Other, a takeaway and some crap telly. Strictly Come Dancing, X Factor, Match of the Day, bed. I never thought this would be my idea of bliss!

6. Spicy chilli peanuts

My snack food of the year. I’ve bought a big tub of them for Christmas, and can’t see it lasting long. Plus, I can kid myself that peanuts are a healthier option.

7. Cain’s Mild

My drink of the year. A classic beer from a Liverpudlian brewery. Full of flavour, but low in alcohol, so I can drink plenty of it without falling over. Coveting a can of mild, again, suggests I am now truly an old man, in heart, mind and increasingly in body. This is not a bad thing. I think I’m actually growing into myself.

8. The New York Review of Books

On the surface, this is a periodical with a load of book reviews. But really, they are just a launchpad for articles on much wider issues, so an issue might throw up some interesting perspectives on all manner of things – the fall of the Berlin Wall, Theodore Roosevelt’s environmentalism, the new ballparks in New York, prison reform, schooling…you name it. It is refreshing to see such a wide range of issues covered, and for writers to be given the room to cover them in sufficient depth. Plus, it makes me feel a bit cleverer for reading it.

9. QI

It’s bloody brilliant, isn’t it? And like number 8 above, I feel a bit cleverer for watching it. You can never have enough trivia stuffed in your brain, as far as I’m concerned.

10. Listening to Christmas songs

I love Christmas songs. Big Rock Candy Mountain feeds my addiction with some weird and wonderful efforts, but I’m just as happy with the more mainstream fare. Phil Spector’s Christmas album is probably one of the best (not just Christmas) albums ever. Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You is my number one guilty pleasure. To me, that song is perfect. It’s a shame that in just a few days I won’t be listening to these songs for another year…

So, what little things made your 2009 a good one? I’d love to hear about whatever helped make your year.

Photo from kevindooley, via Flickr

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December 18, 2009

Bar Humbug – A Christmas story

A first for the blog, a very brief piece of fiction, for this festive time. Let me know what you think! And apologies for the terrible pun in the title.

Christmas was not a happy time at The George for Reg.

In the last week of November Cathy the barmaid had hung up the Christmas decorations. Reg, being Reg, threatened to tear them down. In the end, he only removed the tinsel that hung over his seat in the corner. He also removed the mistletoe that mysteriously appeared there soon after.

If nothing else, Christmas made Reg punctual. At noon each day he would be waiting as the doors were unbolted, primed to secure his seat. He would not risk losing it to an unsuspecting gentleman wearing a paper crown.

By mid-December, Reg was plagued by the parties of revellers patronising The George. At any one time there was guaranteed to be someone acting festive.

On one occasion a group broke out a rendition of ‘Deck The Halls’.

“Tis the season for bloody amateur drinkers, more like,” grumbled Reg, to no one in particular. “Bring on January, when they’ll all have gone back to their gyms and widescreen televisions, and us proper drinkers can get some peace.”

Reg drained his pint of Best, got up from his seat, and left the pub, letting in some snow on his way out.

A gentleman wearing a paper crown immediately slumped in Reg’s seat. “Tis the season to be jolly,” he sang, raising his pint of lager, to no one in particular.

Photo by mfajardo via Flickr.

December 10, 2009

Christmas shopping – tomorrow is my date with destiny

Christmas is coming!

I’m really quite excited about Christmas this year. In previous years I fell into the trap of going ‘bah humbug’ until it was too late, and only feeling truly Christmassy by Boxing Day. Which is obviously no good at all.

So, in the past couple of years I’ve gone for it. This year is no exception. My life is currently soundtracked by Christmas songs, I’m chomping at the bit to decorate the flat, and my advent calendar is being opened at regular intervals.

However, there is one aspect I’m wary about, and that is Christmas shopping.

On the one hand, I work right behind London’s Oxford Street, one of the world’s most famous shopping thoroughfares. However, that also means it is one of the busiest. It’s not much fun negotiating the shoppers and tourists at the best of times, let alone Christmas.

Despite this, tomorrow I will brave Christmas shopping in London.

Like the typical, stereotypical male, I have no list and few real plans. But I’m going to do it, anyway. I’m psyching myself up for the task. I may well plot a route, from shop to shop and back again. Or I might just wing it, like the maverick, loose cannon, play-my-my-own-rules shopper that I am.

I may, of course, decide to abort the mission after an hour and go to the pub, convincing myself that I was just ‘scouting out options’.

So, why don’t I just order online? One – I’m not that organised. For most people I haven’t a clue what to get. Generally I leave shopping far too late, although this is probably the earliest date in living memory for me to start Christmas shopping (I used to leave it until Christmas Eve, but I haven’t the nerve for that anymore). Two – shopping online is just not the same.

As much as Christmas shopping can be a stressful and distressing experience, secretly, I think it can also be a lot of fun. Weaving my way around busy streets, bags of presents in hand, is sure to get me in the Christmas mood. And that’s just what I’m looking for.

A further report may follow in the coming days, depending on how well (or badly) it goes. In the meantime, how is your Christmas shopping going? And any tips on making the shopping more fun, or more constructive?

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December 9, 2009

John Lennon’s death, 29 years on

Steven’s post reminded me that today/yesterday is/was the 29^th anniversary of John Lennon’s death.

I was but a baby when Lennon was killed, and so I can’t offer any memories on that day. However, that does mean I was born during a period where the Beatles permeated everything. Parents and teachers were fans, and so the music was there at home (via the records) and at school (where Beatles songs were a handy resource for trendier music teachers). There was no escape, not that I was looking for one.

And as I grew older, the Beatles were a constant reference point, as most bands I cared about would mention them. Without the Beatles, popular music wouldn’t have progressed as it did. That’s not hyperbole, that’s fact. Even if I had doubts over some of their work, I had to respect their influence, and certainly loved many of their songs.

This year, through the remastered versions, I’ve continued my Beatles odyssey and especially loved all the non-hits. Maybe the one problem with the Beatles is their ubiquity. Nothing sounds new if you’ve grown up with the songs. So, to hear the lesser-known album tracks has been wonderful, and the closest I’ll come to experiencing the thrill there must have been in the 60s listening to a new Beatles track for the first time.

Lennon’s death was obviously tragic. One strange side-effect for me is that the complexity of his character has, by many, been glossed over, in favour of some sort of martyrdom, as has happened for many rock/pop stars who died before their time. I think this does the man a disservice.

Someone so caustic and witty shouldn’t be beyond criticism and proper analysis, as some sort of ‘Saint John’. Hopefully I’m not just setting up a straw man argument here, and certainly don’t intend to be inflammatory on this anniversary. But, while he played a part in some of the greatest music of the twentieth century, there is more to him than that. Acknowledging lesser examples of his work and other aspects of his character are just as important to understanding the genius he had.

But, first and foremost, boy, could he write a tune. And listening to ‘Twist and Shout’ he couldn’t half belt out someone else’s tune too.

December 3, 2009

The Great Gatsby – or is he?

More often than not I will lay off the fiction when I’m choosing a book. For faintly ridiculous reasons, really. I like to know what’s really going on in the world, or has gone on in the world in the past. I like reality. I like facts and information I can utilise in a pub quiz (how sad, eh?). I like tidbits I can bore my friends and family with on high days and holidays.

This is, of course, forgetting that you can get all this, and more, from good fiction. I can find out just as much, and be just as moved, as I would be by a true-life story.

This was certainly the case with F Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. After reading Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, which features Fitzgerald around the time The Great Gatsby was written, the novel itself seemed a sensible next stop. Here I could perhaps flesh out that 1920s world, and see if Hemingway was right about this being Fitzgerald’s best work.

It did also help that the book is my Significant Other’s favourite. She has pretty good taste (well, she lives with me, right? OK, apart from living with me, she has good taste) and I doubted she’s recommend a book I wouldn’t go for.

You’ll be pleased to hear, dear reader, I wasn’t disappointed.

Here is a wonderful snapshot of 1920s decadence. Here was that sense of freedom and abandon after the First World War. Here was the truly modern(ist?) world, with its pleasures and its pitfalls. The book chronicles the recklessness of the age, which would eventually lead to the Wall Street Crash and the Great Depression (although obviously Fitzgerald was not to know of this when he was writing the book). People wallow in excess, on money that appears from nowhere, with no foundation, a modern Gomorrah, heading for disaster. Sounds familiar, eh?

Money is no object, and with Gatsby, he appears to have magicked it from thin air. The allusion is that he has gained his fortune by nefarious means (perhaps he is a con artist, perhaps a bootlegger, perhaps a fixer of the World Series). But the great and good are more than happy to accept his charming self, and more importantly are happy to see his money spent on their own enjoyment, at his countless parties. No questions asked.

I found Gatsby such a fascinating character as he does not seem of this (that?) world. He is a mirage. He seems to have appeared from nowhere, and can disappear just as quickly.

In the early passages of the book, Gatsby is but a mythical presence. The narrator, Nick Carraway, hears of him but does not meet him, despite living next-door. When he first catches sight of him, he vanishes. When they first meet face-to-face, Nick does not immediately realise who he is talking to.

Here is a character who is dropped into the ‘normal’ world and seems to unsettle everything. Yet, by the end, on the surface, normality has returned, or at least the unrest has been suppressed. This lends Gatsby an almost ghostly,dream-like air. For the main characters, to the outside world at least, it is as if nothing has ever happened. The status quo is restored.

He is soon forgotten by high society. They move on. Those who he genuinely touched will at least pretend to forget him, or wish that they could. Only Nick remains to mark and remember Gatsby. And so, Gatsby starts and ends a myth. He lives only in Nick’s words and memory.

Was Gatsby an illusion? Just as all that surrounded him was, and as the riches of that time were? It seems that way.

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