water

A couple of new videos Jayne took of me and Bethany messing around with water over the weekend. The responsible adult that I am...........

sombrero

I'm not on Facebook anymore, but the beauty of being able to activate and then immediately deactivate my account means I can borrow pictures like this that our Mick took of Mum's birthday celebration in Southport at the weekend.

I think the previous pic of our Jay was from the same occasion? But that's not me with Mum, that's our Mick. What would I be doing with a sombrero on top of me head??????

snapping

Mum got herself a new phone the other week, and has been busy snapping anything that moves. Speaking of things that move, but very rarely keep still, here's Mum's recent pic of our Jay.

Makes his Uncle Andy rather proud!!!!!!

chump

The above chump is called Jeremy Hunt, the new Conservative Sports and Culture Secretary, and, concerning crowd behaviour at the World Cup, he said he was........

'...incredibly encouraged by the example set by the England fans. I mean, not a single arrest for a football-related offense, and the terrible problems that we had in Heysel and Hillsborough in the 1980s seem now to be behind us''.

Heysel was hooliganism at its' very worst and Liverpool football "supporters" were responsible for it. Hillsborough was unforgivable botched policing against innocent football fans. To mention both Heysel and Hillsborough in the same context is appalling insensitivity and ignorance from a Government minister.

Mr. Hunt has quickly apologised, but the damage has already been done. You know, as Liverpool fans we've spent the last 21 years trying to reverse the misguided opinion of the right-wing Establishment. And just when you think you're getting somewhere, a dickhead like this spouts shit like that.

What's the point?

The point is we keep on telling the truth. Generations to come will appreciate the injustice and cover-up of Hillsborough, even if this one won't.

explanation

There's no explanation needed for the document pictured below..........

Mum

Above is a photograph of Mum's 21st birthday celebration on this day back in 1968. Which is a rather good stroke of luck because today is also her birthday and she's 22. A mere slip of a girl. Pictured also are me Dad, and Mum's folks, Billy and Annie. What a lovely pic!?

All I can say, Mum, is thanks for everything, and the sheltered accommodation isn't too many years away!!!!! But anyway, back to that picture above, because there's a story behind it.

The same day, me Dad's elder brother, Johnny The Thieving Nomark, got married to who became my Auntie Lyn in Liverpool. Dad was best man, but because of Mum's birthday, they left early....and missed all the fun. Because Auntie Lyn's family, apparently, were into spoiling for a bit of aggravation and there was a massive fistfight (typical Scouse wedding!). The irony of which was if me Dad had still been there, it's very likely he'd have been in the middle of it. But Mum and Dad were well away and kept their heads down. A lesson to us all.

So after a long and happy day such as this, there was only one way to finish it.......

Happy birthday, Mum xxxxxx

CB

Because I can sometimes be strange and weird, I made a split-decision to revisit an earlier part of my life and spent some money on a cheap CB radio and antenna.

You're probably sitting there, drinking or spitting out your tea/coffee/vimto, wondering why? And you're right, because I'm wondering too?

Anyway, it's a nice little mobile set that I can take in and out of Anya3. The aerial is huge, and screws into a magnetic base on the roof. I've taken it out a couple of times, more listening in than anything, and spoke to a few people to see what my signal's like, and it all seems well and good.

But CB radio today isn't how I remember it from the late-80s/early-90s. Very few people are on it locally, and those who are there seem to enjoy their now licence-free airtime by making every second word into their microphones begin with "f" and end in "k".

So more fool me? I may sell up pretty soon? The CB rig itself is a beauty, a Maxom CB10 80-channeller. The technology has come on in leaps and bounds in the last 20 years, just a shame the quality of fellow "breakers" has not.

chump

The Budget has been and gone. I listened to the prize chump below waffle on about how he's going to make everyone (as long as you're poor) suffer as massive cuts were announced to public services.

I didn't understand much of what he was saying. I'm not that (IRONY ALERT!) thick but it was all figures and deflation to me. The one thing I was kind of surprised by was the increase of VAT to 20% after Christmas, when I was expecting a much higher hike. Like I'm grateful.

The only people who caused the financial chaos were a handful of greedy bankers, and we (the taxpayers) bailed them out, and yet we (the taxpayers) are going to be made to pay for their greed. It's not fair. To anyone.

Maybe I should just buy a deserted island off the coast of Galway and grow potatoes? But knowing my luck, they'd be a famine....again!

So I emailed the BBC some ideas for telly programmes, as I always do. Current propositions are -

"PRE-TEEN, PISSED, PARALYTIC AND PREGNANT"

"THE RETARDED LLAMA BOTULISM SHOW"

Cheap to make, ideal for BBC3, and maybe a few bob in my pocket, who knows?

Dad

Today Dad's 63. Wherever he is at this precise moment he's probably a permanent 47....or less! More than likely he's putting the afterlife to rights from the comfort of his favourite armchair - feet tucked up on the cushion, wearing just his favourite underpants. A true story, folks!

Today usually coincided with Father's Day, as this year proves. I used to say to him, "...what do you want for your birthday and Father's Day?"

"Is it my birthday soon, son?"

"Yeh!"

I think he knew damned well but didn't want the fuss. Me, Mum and Mick are much the same.

As time goes on, I worry I lose memories of him and his adventures. For whilst there's recollections, he's still very much alive. It's funny how things hit and tickle you when you're least expecting it.

Today I was driving through Seaforth, and a story triggered in the recesses of my brain. When I was in my mid-teens, I came home one night to find Dad getting dressed up in all his army gear. I thought he was going to the barracks for some craic? "No, son," he said, "I'm going for a run."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Bootle and back. You're welcome along."

Still inquisitive, I ventured, "Why are you in your kit, Dad?"

Straight-faced, he replied, "The regiment's going on an exercise this weekend, all across country. So I'm getting some practice in. Oh, and pass us that 38 pound back pack over there please, son?"

His shoulder bag was huge. It had all sorts of pots and pans hanging off. But most of all, it weighed a ton. He strapped it across his back, and off we went.

It was dusk, but he was getting some strange looks from passers-by as we went along. He began at a furious pace too, and I was very, very fit back then, though I had trouble keeping up.

We were talking about stuff as we went, then suddenly he'd shout, "100 YARD SPRINT, GO!!!!" Whoosh, with all this weight he was away and I was following.

He timed to Bootle and back in 35 minutes. I was knackered. Dad calmed took off his back-pack, and stripped down to his underpants (like I said earlier on), and without any pre-amble, went and watched the telly!!!!!!!

There was always a method to his madness. I think his regiment won a trophy that weekend too?

For the first time ever, I got something for Father's Day from both Aaron and Bethany. This was completely unexpected, and I was genuinely lost for words. I don't feel like "Dad" to the kids, and I've certainly never tried to fill that gap. I'm just there, I guess, and I suppose I say and do a lot of the right things by them.

It was a very thoughtful gesture I'll always treasure.

Maybe my Dad did get the same kick out of these special days, but he was too embarrassed to admit it?!! I feel quietly honoured.

I love and miss him so, so much. Happy birthday, Dad xxxxxx

twilight

You may be wondering, "what the mosh is that?" or words to that effect. Simple answer is this is a photograph facing north from Crosby Coastguard Station, taken at 1.46am just gone.

I'm fascinated with the fact that at this time of year it never goes completely dark - there's always a modicum of twilight. If I wanted to I could've stayed out from sunset to sunrise and watched the faint light move across the sky. I got some good pics last year of the sunrise over Haskayne. Will be trying something similar very soon.

This pic may look very murky, but I was using the highest settings on my digital camera - 12 megapixels, super fine mode, no flash. And I wonder could I have gotten better results using an analogue camera? The answer is probably yes, but I haven't the millions of pounds to buy one.

WAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday, I casually mentioned to Jayne that Cheap Trick were playing at the Manchester Academy on the 11th November - two days before my 40th birthday.

So Jayne, being the resourceful and caring partner she is, went on the Interweb and booked us two tickets for the gig.

It hasn't sunk in yet, but I'm going to see Cheap Trick......

WAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'M GOING TO SEE CHEAP TRICK!!!!!!! THE GODFATHERS OF POWER POP!!!!!!!! NO BLUESY MASTURBATION - JUST A SACKFUL OF THREE-MINUTE POP ANTHEMS PLAYED BY A BAND WITH A COMBINED AGE OF 247 BUT WITH THE GUSTO AND VOLUME (YES, LOTS AND LOTS OF VOLUME) OF SPEED-CRAZED TEENAGE PETE TOWNSHENDS.

Hope my Rick Neilsen t-shirt still fits?

tension

I've been trawling the Interweb to find a suitable photograph to head this blog post, and for the life of me, the right one isn't there. There's nothing that can acutely demonstrate the sense of anxiety I felt being out on the streets of Crosby tonight.

As we all know, it was the first England game of this year's World Cup. During the game, it wasn't a problem - the roads and pavements were fairly quiet. After it - well, I wouldn't say all hell broke loose, but there was a palpable tension in the warm summer air fuelled by too much alcohol.

As the night wore on, I just wanted to go home and shut the doors -safe in "my six be four universe". I can look after myself on the streets, but why should I have to? Contray to what some folk may believe, I'm nowhere near as hard-faced and aggressive as I can sometimes appear. Most of the time I just want to hide.

The fervour surrounding England's participation in the competition is dangerously close to overwhelming most people's common sense.

You know, I look back on myself and my reactions to certain big Liverpool games and I feel genuinely shamed by my crap attitude after them. Of course I can be disappointed, and I have reacted negatively to things that aren't really that important in the cold light of day.

Perhaps this sense of dread is a personal penance for me to endure for the next month, or at least until England are eliminated from the tournament?

tosser

Some tosser thought it'd be funny to stick an England flag through my front door today. Even less funny was the fact that this "flag" was emblazoned with the words "The S*n" across it.

What sick, twisted person would do such a thing? I'm erring on the side of it being someone who doesn't know me or my beliefs, because if it was meant to wind me up then congratulations, it did.

Thankfully, for my sanity, I had Jayne and the kids here at the time. Bethany wanted the flag, and she was welcome to it, but I did cut out the piece of offending bad language.

Liverpool FC Waterloo. YNWA, JFT96, DON'T BUY THE S*N!!!!!!!!!!!!!

trident

The ConDem government are to ask the "great" British public for their views as to what spending cuts should be implemented in an attempt to try and balance the UK's budget deficit.

Only really one suggestion comes to my mind - scrap TRIDENT - our nuclear deterrent.

Sadly, for a man who I thought had more brains, the new Foreign Secretary, William Hague, announced within weeks of coming to power, a ball park estimate of the UK's nuclear weapon arsenal. Apparently the United Kingdom has 160 operational warheads, and 65 non-operational weapons.

Why was there such a need to announce this to the country? What was the point? Planning something with them, Mr. Hague?

Moreover, why the hell does this tiny island nation need 160 nuclear weapons. That's more than enough to destroy the planet many, many times over. This isn't a "deterrent", it's an outrage. A deterrent is a civilised way of keeping would-be's at bay. Armed as we are, we're basically saying "you're dead" if you try anything?

How much is it costing the UK taxpayer to keep these weapons of mass destruction in readiness to use? The true figure we'll never find out, but it doesn't take much intelligence to discern that the money could be a lot better used on public services in the HERE AND NOW, rather than spending for an unthinkable future apocalypse of nightmarish proportions.

Britain doesn't need Trident. No civilised country needs a nuclear weapon. Scrap them all now.

sale

This is how a house should be decorated before a major football competition. Our old house in Milton Road.

The other day, Mum told me it's back up for sale - £149,950 - just over two years after we sold it. I'm very pleased about this. My hell vortex pentagon I drew on the floor in my old bedroom has obviously worked its' sinister magic and forced the Green's (they who bought the house) to try and jump ship.

I heard the young couple split up not too long after they moved in. Such a blow........

I don't usually (IRONY ALERT!!!) wish bad on anyone. But as regular readers will know, I was not impressed in the slightest by the bullying tactics used by these people to get Mum out, and get their stinking crap in. It wasn't about the money either - we took a marked reduction on price - but it had a lot to do with basic manners, which the Green's were totally devoid of.

Mum's famous last words as we shut the front door for the final time - "the dirty deed's been done" - summed everything up so simply.

Anyway, if I had £144,000 I'd buy the house back there and then without solicitors and surveyors reports and the like - I know everything there is to know about that house - good and bad. Might be worth starting the Lottery for?

flag

Too many of these things are popping up all over the place..........

I suppose it's inevitable that the wannabe-footy "supporters" come out of the woodwork once every four years?

Time has mellowed me as regards the St.George's Flag and patriotic spirit - I think it would be nice if I was more welcoming towards it. However, old habits die slowly. I still associate the St.George's Flag with the BNP and the fascist far-right loonies. And I well remember the terrible stick the great John Barnes got whenever he put on an England shirt from supposed "fans".

Also, it's morally abhorrent to stick up for a football team that contains Wayne Rooney, John Terry and Rio Ferdinand in its' ranks. Okay, Ferdinand's out now, but the sentiments still the same.

Still trying to get my head around Jamie Carragher back in the England set-up. Wonder how he got round his missus on that one? "Errrr, not goin' on 'olidee wid yew an' d'kids now, luv......." I'd have thought it more prudent to rest his legs for the summer because we have an early kick-off in July.

So I went into town today and bought a Spanish flag to drape across my window instead. Fernando Torres, Pepe Reina, Xabi Alonso and Alvaro Arbeloa (compared to Glen Johnson, Arby's the business!!!!!).

The other reason I got a Spanish flag was because they'd run out of North Korean ones. Like they do in this city.......

friend

Went up to see Mum today, and was pleasantly thrilled to see my old friend 1449 (GKA449L), the Alexander-bodied Leyland Atlantean AN68/1R, new to Merseyside Passenger Transport Executive in 1973.

I know I went on a state-of-the-art Volvo B7TL over in Dublin, and that was good fun, but there's nothing like reliving my childhood with a blessed piece of serendipity today.

Mum was in good form too, you'll be pleased to know. The weather in Southport was quite......hot and stuffy. Didn't stop Mum racing up Lord Street after me, as I'd left some bits at her flat. She's mad me Mum. She fell over on her side a few weeks ago and STILL went line-dancing. Suffered the next day, like, but Mum is no ordinary....erm, pensioner!!!!!

ribby

The day after we got back from Ireland, me and Jayne went up to Ribby Hall Holiday Park, near Blackpool, where both Bethany and Aaron were staying with their grandparents, Ged and Carol (Jayne's folks). Here's a couple of childish videos from there.......

Me and Jayne only stayed there the one night before coming home, each of us had stuff to do in Liverpool, but it was a lot of fun. The swimming pool and water slides were simple but grin-inducing. Dive bombing Jayne was a particular favourite. The night time entertainment was so bad it was brilliant - a magician with awful jokes!

The chalet we stayed at was as good as a proper home, all mod-cons and tasteful decorating. I wonder if they'll take my rent?

A few good photos of us and the kids.....

rafa

"El Nino, EL NINO!!!!! Fall back, fall back you lazy good-for-nothing Spanish bastard. Let them ATTACK US!!!!!! PANIC AT THE BACK, CARRA, MAKE US PANIC AT THE BACK!!!!!!!!!!"

It's not very surprising Rafa Benitez has left us. Whether he was pushed or not is irrelevant. His 7th place at the end of last season, coupled with poor tactics and abysmal judgment in the transfer market sealed his fate.....as good as before the beginning of the season to be blunt.

It's sad, but necessary for Rafa to go. No one will take away the memories of Istanbul - for that his tenure at Anfield was probably worth it. He just never, really built on that success.

My favourite for next manager? Kenny Dalglish! But does Ken really want that sort of aggravation again?

videos

Here's a couple of videos I've just uploaded to YouTube from the Dublin Trip. First off is from the night we spent in the Sunnybank Hotel in Glasnevin - not far from our digs. They had a traditional Irish music night which was really good fun. Unfortunately, it was marred because we were collared by a drunken, druggy moron called Mark who all he wanted to do was apologise, shake hands and kiss me!!!!

The white-haired bloke sitting to the extreme left on the video was so drunk that after this song he went to the bar, then proceeded to fall over and bang his head on the floor as he went to sit down again.

Me being very, very, very sill.......normal!!!!!

We went on the DART to Howth, and both of us were bursting for the toilet. Beneath Howth station was the "Bloody Stream" pub. It was a wonderful piece of luck because not only did they have boss toilets, but their seafood menu was fantastic. Here's me about to tuck in to one of their lunchtime platters!!!

If you're wondering why Jayne's not on any of these videos, it's due to reasons to do with her day job and YouTube, even though there's a couple of classic clips of Jayne being very silly.

I may share them......many years from now!

dublin

Well, we're back from Dublin and rather than do a huge blog entry that no bugger apart from me and Jayne will appreciate, I thought it better to show our holiday through a series of images that will hopefully convey the sense of adventure and fun we had.

Hopefully.........

Our ship, the "Norbank".

The all-you-can-eat breakfast. And did we!!!!!

Jayne - "Are we in Dublin yet?

Me - "No, we're just leaving Liverpool."

"Howya Dublin? What's d'bleedin' craic?"

Our room at the guesthouse. The same room I stayed in the last time I was here.

We went for a wander across the very-steep and cliff-ridden Howth Head on the first night to be confronted by these sorts of signs.

Jayne makes our butties for our first day out. We thought it was a good idea to save us a fortune on meals and food. You know what they say about the best-laid plans.......

Me outside Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin. The best €6 admission we paid.

A list of the rebels from the 1916 Rising who were executed by the British. We came away from Kilmainham feeling quite guilty about being British I think? What my country's done in Ireland during the past is nothing short of despicable.

The main hall in Kilmainham Gaol.

Probably Dublin's best know image - the Halfpenny Bridge seen from O'Connell Bridge.

Molly Malone. Huge tits. And I've always wondered did always look this clean and buxom in real life, and did she have all her own teeth?

Neither me nor Jayne were paying €1 to have our pictures taken with a side-show turn, when we could photograph him/her/it from the relative safety of many yards away.

Now, a little piece needs to be written about this. We booked on the Dublin Bus South Coast Tour which basically went down to Dun Laoghaire (where this pic was taken), through the millionaires mansions of Dalkey and Killiney, to the splender of Powerscourt Gardens in deepest County Wicklow. Our driver, Michael Mary Kelly, was the best laugh we had during our entire time in Dublin. We knew the drivers on these bus tours have all their banter planned out beforehand, but that was irrelevant. He was a genuinely entertaining and interesting bloke who had both me and Jayne in hysterics during our day out. Maybe it's a Dublin/Liverpool thing, but we were the only people on that bus who seemed to have a good time. And we sat downstairs.

Me and Jayne on the bus - a self portrait.

Powerscourt House.

Powerscourt Gardens - €8 a visit!

On Sunday night, we went for a walk along the entire length of the Poolbeg breakwater in Dublin harbour.

On Monday, we went for a train ride down to Greystones, where I took this little pic of Jayne.

Coming back towards Dublin on the train (DART - Dublin Area Rapid Transit), here's a view of Dublin Bay south of Bray.

The leaving of Dublin on Tuesday morning. See you again soon......

I've got some videos that are going up on YouTube very soon, but we took hundreds of photographs in Dublin, and it's a shame I can only post up so many. But we very much enjoyed our first holiday away. For me personally, it was good to come to Dublin, for the first time in many years, as a tourist, and not as someone's emotional punchbag.

It's still very expensive over there. We took €500, yet still spent more. Going to an Irish pub is one way to test the validity of an American Express Card that's for sure. Yet public transport was fairly inexpensive, and still the best way to get around.

Our digs cost us €260 for the four nights, and we'd go back certainly. Parking wasn't a problem either, as long as I parked Anya on one side of the road, and not the metered-other! Petrol cost a lot more than in the UK, which is like a role-reversal from previous years.

Tourists are a pain in the arse. I personally didn't think me and Jayne were? But for the Irish economy they're a necessary evil. I thought the attitude of some tourists (American or German probably) who we encountered was abysmal - no "please" or "thank you", or even a basic acknowledgment. Begging is rampant on Dublin's streets too, though if one looks at the clobber some of them are wearing, you wonder whether it's a part-time job because being a merchant banker isn't enough fun?

But all in all, we had a good time. Ireland 2010. Recommended :)