So, I looked up my first blog which I wrote back in those panicky days of March. The opening line was, “ So, I am over 70 and Bojo has just sentenced me o a life behind bars” And now I am nearly 80 than 70 and he and his motley crew are threatening to do it again. I mean if he can think about closing the pubs ( and I saw what was going to happen there at closing time, if you recall ) to allow the schools to restart in September, who is to say he won’t stick everybody over 75 back inside to add to the fun. I swear they make these policies up as they go along and probably also at closing time. Great song called “ Closing Time “ by Leonard Cohen by the way.
Those of you who travelled this whole journey with me will recall my very early prediction that we would be out of the woods by July 31st. And lo and behold it is now August 2nd ( so I did give it another couple of days to allow Armageddon to strike… and it sort of didn’t… well, only in Blackburn and Preston and Manchester and Northern places like that where you don’t go without security anyway ) so I think I am now free to walk out of my prison gates and go blinking into the sunshine as a free man. And I’ve just done exactly that and gone and got a haircut. No jokes please about which hair?
There was a television series years ago called “ Kung Fu “ with David Carradine where he played a young monk, being tutored by an old, wise, blind man. They played a game where the old man held a pebble in his hand and challenged Carradine to take it before the hand closed.
“ When you can take the pebble from my hand then it will be time for you to leave. “
So, I think it is time to take the pebble from my hand for all my readers. Carradine went out into the world to right wrongs using all the knowledge and fighting techniques that his master had taught him. And I must do the same, although my master has been The Big V for nearly six months now.
We’ve had some fun I feel. I demystified Covid and indeed, humanised it, by calling it The Big V. The Big C having been already taken. There was my battle to get Sainsbury’s to deliver in the early days of lock-down and they are still delivering today. I don’t want to seem ungrateful but my next trip out is going to be to Marks and Spencer and actually choose stuff from their shelves that I want.
There was the endless saga, of first my son Nicky getting back and then his dog, Wanda’s endless travails ( followed breathlessly by so many of you ) via San Francisco, until she miraculously boarded (or rather was loaded on to ) a plane at LAX. I really didn’t like dogs before I met Wanda. I still don’t like dogs, but Wanda and I have become great friends. She rushes up to me and gives me loving licks, before rolling shamelessly on to her back, spreading her legs, paws in the air and waiting expectantly for me to tickle her tummy. She rarely barks and never bites and as I have said before she is an honorary cat as far as I am concerned.
Then there was the Saga with Saga when they tried to charge me over six thousand pounds for my car insurance and never backed down or saw anything wrong with that until I got myself insured with the help of Anthony, my daughter in law Rachel’s father with Admiral ( I really love a sailor ) for a mere £800 plus.
You’ve met all my family and most of my friends over these last few months. Sam, my Number One grandson who set out to compete with me in a rival blog that attracted international acclaim. Sam has now left Primary School and unable to get a place in his chosen Jewish secondary schools ( bow your heads in shame JFS and JCos and be grateful I am calling it a day in these blogs before I turn my attention to you ! ) has passed the entrance exam to City of London where his daddy, Paul and his uncle Nick had such a great education and fabulous time. So maybe that was all meant to be. Very proud of Sam in gaining entry to the school voted the Number One Secondary school in London last year after about two weeks preparation for the entrance exam. That was the easy bit. Learning how to tie his tie is proving a little bit trickier.
Courtesy of my son, Paul and daughter-in-law Rachel, ( who do read the blog on occasions too ) I’ve watched my grand-daughter Cara grow up before my eyes and seen her every day at 6.30pm which is often the only entry in my diary. We watch on Face-time as she plays with her ducks in the bath and now we are close to being able to splash alongside her.
I’ve discovered the kindness and loyalty of so many friends who have kept in touch and shopped for us. Some regular readers, some not. But I forgive the latter group anyway. You all know what they’ve been missing. I hope I don’t miss anybody out but thanks to Naomi, Matt, Marvin, our son Nicky, his friend Dan, my wonderful next door neighbours, The Iliffes, Ann and Jeff for organizing or Friday bread run and to Kosher Paradise in Temple Fortune who never let me down for my Pot Noodles, Greek Yoghurts and Digestive biscuits, both plain and chocolate. Nor for Sam’s Mentos and chewy sweets. And of course, the firemen who delivered my prescriptions from my friendly, neighbourhood, pharmacy.
I’ve created some legends I think in Bojo, The Caretaker,Little Ritchie ( still printing money with his John Bull printing press ) the Trumpster ( who continues to provide fresh material. as he calls for a delay in the November election as he doesn’t like the rules.. and wishes Ghislaine Maxwell,well. Or maybe he repeated the second part of her surname and didn’t say that at all ) and although she may not want to see her name up in lights along with that ghastly trio, Isabella aged 94 and a half ( now nearer 95 ) who has been a recurring star of these blogs. We had the great story of her stolen stool, one of my facourites. No more blogs, Isabella. but always here for you.
And you my readers. People like, Laura, ( another mention Laura) who never missed any edition, my old school pal, Roger Bardle whose been with me since the start, June and Jim who spent so long in Thailand and are now ( safely ? ) back in Spain in time for their lock-down, Andrea, who rivalled and often out-did my writing achievements in her own blog, My Life in Poems, Andy in Manchester who supplied the answer to my question of naming all the Dr Who’s by sending me a t-shirt with all their names on it (thanks Andy ) , Steve and Jo eating their tea up North at all the wrong times, Anthony locally, with his damaged fingers, Robby and Ros ( seems Ros has to read it and tell him about it) John and Roz ( ditto ) “Auntie Marion “ who looked after my kids at nursery ( and Amy Winehouse too.. we are celebrity full in Southgate, it’s where Judge Rinder grew up not to mention Phil Tufnell ) ) many of my friends and colleagues at The National League, Roma and Tony, Bob Mountford, Daphne, my Roving Reporter in South Africa… I sound like a losing contestant on Radio 2’s Pop Master giving his endless dedications.
But, most of all thanks to my missus ( she has a name, Marilyn ) who proof read every day, squirreled away the censored bits to publish after my demise and provide a suitable pension for her and kept well clear when I was writing this and my novels, but not so clear that I haven’t been provided with two meals a day with a variety of menus that seemed never to end. Just like Bob Dylan’s never ending tour.
Of course we had his new great album “ Rough and Ready ways “ I devoted a whole blog to the great song “ Sunscreen “ do read it again if you still have it. There were the birds in my garden who seem to have been driven away by my friendly pet pigeons. There were The Noisy People now replace by even noisier people at the back of my garden building a new extension on their house and presumably having moved out whilst the work is underway and leaving us with the noise.
There were the crazy people using my road as a speed track and the even crazier people running and cycling around my local park and spreading germs like jam on bread. There were the swans and the six cygnets who still survive. There were friends who came to tea at my birthday party as I am now nearer 80 than 70. Johnny and Viv, Sharon and Philip, another Marilyn, another Mel, yet another Mel and his wife Karen who organized quizzes to keep us sane and my other old school buddy Colin and his wife Angela. ( who we beat in the last quiz )
Let’s not forget my anonymous friend at the NHS who gave me such wise counsel and provided me with the number of The Samaritans and the tip to open my office window. Was never sure whether I should have thrown myself out or called The Samaritans first, or done both at the same time, chatting whilst in free fall. But thank you NHS anyway. You deserved my Thursday night applause
Let me leave you with my favourite blog images of the blackbird in my garden saying “Black birds’ lives matter “ and the Magpie in a teeny Newcastle United shirt, all before the pigeons drove them away. Or my statue made of chocolate on top of Nelson’s Column.
Even as I write this I think should I just scrap it and carry on, but after 103 blogs and over 130,000 words enough is enough. I don’t want to outstay my welcome. It’s time to take the pebble from the blind man’s hand and move on. I’ve got two novels to finish and all the things I said I would do in my first blog none of which have happened. Like downloading all 3000 of my photos … and finishing the books I am writing. I will notify you when they are published as one is going straight to Kindle Direct on Amazon ( more money for Jeff Bezos who we have made even more seriously rich with our regular orders.
So, as the song said as the guy left prison, “ I’m coming home I’ve done my time.. tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree “ . He was coming home. My home has been my prison ( although made very comfy by my missus… seems Ghislaine has a whole floor to herself in hers ) and at the end of my time I am leaving home. And leaving you too. This has been a very long goodbye note.
I just looked through the file of the bog stories I didn’t write and they are manifold. As Dylan sang on that new album.
“ I Am Multitudes “
But then you all are too.
So, maybe, just maybe, when time allows and the mood takes me I may just write an occasional blog. Look out for the message on Facebook.
Meanwhile, I wish you all well. I wish for crowds to return to football and cricket and racing. I wish I could have learned how to reply to your message on the website. I wish for lessons to be learned and that we can all live in a better and cleaner world. And you are saying, “ I wish he would just stop, so I can wipe the tears from my eyes. “ And your wish, as ever, is my command. Stay safe and I suppose see you next pandemic….if we are spared. Or perhaps, on the next blog… I mean Gavin and Stacey and Frank Sinatra made come-backs. So, why not me ?