new medical adventure

greetings

so another bout of troubling medical practitioners, look you see. no, though, nothing to do with the existing reasons for doing so, which (of course) can be followed by looking at all the carefully worded links off of this link. just a "one of those things" which developed (or happened), yet somehow got transformed into quite the faff on. 

as usual, then, i would appear to have nothing better to do with all of this than document it here. based on the fact that some of the images of what, exactly, happened would be "graphic" and somewhat upsetting, a mix of censored images and ones generated off of all that "ai" stuff (featuring my two most beloved forms of living creatures) shall be used. unfortunately selfies do feature, so warned you have been. 

much as was the case with the first instance of the ongoing medical quandary (go on then, direct link) it would likely be best to do this "in order", or if you will chronologically. so, here we go. 

SUNDAY

why does this sort of thing (not that sort of thing) always kick off on a sunday? anyway, i was pottering around, doing the usual, being aware that a sort of (kind of) lump had appeared on my upper left arm. part of the arm i now understand to be called the "deltoid", which i am reasonably sure was the surname of a character in A Clockwork Orange, yet the symbolism is lost on me. quite thick, i am. moving on and it was reasonably close to being around a "hole" or mark which i have had on my arm since the late 80s, presumed to be from one of those class inoculation injections we got at school. being honest and every now and then the area around that has swollen in the past (rather than the future), but never caused any discomfort or reason for concern, even allowing for my standard "if you ignore it then it will either mend itself or go away" approach. 

no immediate or obvious reason for concern exists, for it didn't knack or hurt and wasn't all that big, i carried on with whatever my usual is or was. 

quite a few of the images i got Skynet (or whatever) to generate would be more appropriate for later on, but i really can't be bothered to go and make more so here we are. 

MONDAY

uncertain if it was a "subconscious" thing or not (or what have you) when i woke up it did seem that the lump and gotten bigger, if only slightly. yet no pain or discomfort, so just got on with the usual, which of course would be verk stuff. no, i agree, this isn't all that exciting or interesting so (thus) far, but thanks for sticking with it. 

as the day progressed i was aware of being able to "feel" (or sense) the lump all the more, with use of my left arm appearing to become limited if not putting up some resistance.  in a rare moment of being sensible (which one dear friend refers to as being of "the new lee") i logged on to that class NHS app and did their online test thing to see what the issue might be. 

went through all of their questions on it (the app) and the conclusion was that a nurse would be calling me back. this did indeed happen (lovely lady) and after some more questions she more or less agreed with me that it didn't seem to need (or warrant) immediate attention, but (of course) needed an actual examination. so she booked in one of them referral things for the nice people at the clinic where they have been keeping me alive for the last 18 (eighteen) months or so (see above links). 

TUESDAY

by the morning of this day it (the lump) was very much overtly bigger, and was quite red. the redness of it was accentuated by quite the similar shade of red rash which had formed around the non-lump parts, and appeared to be spreading. oh dear. 

saw the doctor, had my blood pressure taken (spoiler warning - i had no idea at this stage exactly how often my blood pressure was going to be measured or what have you over the next 24 hours), and an examination of it. the determination was that it was an abscess (or similar) full of pus and the best thing to do would be to get to something called orthopaedics to get an incision and drain procedure. no real surprise that this department at the nearest hospital declined to answer her call. instead she gave me a prescription for some antibiotics (flucloxacillin, which would be an awesome word in scrabble) and advised me that she'd keep trying the department to get me a referral. fair enough really.  

later on, and yes this is (very much) where, if "it" has wheels, the wheels all fell off, the doctor sent a message saying no response from orthopaedics, so i would need to go to A&E and get them to do the procedure. anyone in the UK will have heard tales of legend of just how much of a nightmare going there is, so i was not all that excited. 

TUESDAY INTO WEDNESDAY

despite being no martyr, and (certainly) not all that interested in sacrificing myself to make tres rich shareholders even richer, i do have a sense of commitment to verk. i was aware i had some reasonably important things to do wednesday. so, with the arm feeling reasonably serviceable, and the lump smarting a bit but not overtly painful, i figured it would be all fine to just do what i needed the next day and then go off for the wonders of optimal inefficiency at A&E. 

yes, no, this did not happen. as i am (so) prone to do at my lodgings in this era of exile, i went to sit by the river momentarily, to engage in a certain habit (sorry). a friend joined me, asked how i was and, despite the laws of the English way of doing things preventing one from ever answering with something other than "fine", told her. she insisted on having a look at the lump (or abscess) and said no, really, i need to go to A&E as soon as possible. well, yeah, having looked again, the rash element was clearly spreading, and the lump (or what have you) was moving from smarting a bit to noticeably sore. 

a young neighbour of mine who(m) is a wonderful lad and always eager to help offered to give me a lift to the nearest A&E. this was very welcome. he has recently acquired a vehicle which he is most enthusiastic about how it can go faster than the speed of light, sound, etc, but i requested that he rather not showcase this. merrily he consented. 

just how inefficient our NHS can be (note, not all the time, i am indeed grateful that they have kept me alive no matter how many disagree with the wisdom of such) was exemplified pretty much on arrival. one is greeted by three (3) windows, "manned" by three (3) people not separated behind the window. with no discernible way of knowing which one to go to i went to one and got told off for going to that one when i "should have know" to go to the other first. did so (after saying sorry), had a chat at that window, got sent to the other other window and then referred to the initial one i went to. brilliant. for the record this was more or less around 9pm. 

so i waited for a while (an hour or so, i lose track) and then someone saw me. they took my blood pressure, which was fair enough despite it being done reasonably recently. i may well be missing out one "consultation" or what have you (reasons for forgetting shall become clear), but as i recall from that look at the lump (abscess) i was to be sent off for an x-ray and then  to a department which i was told was called "SDU" like i knew what, exactly, that was supposed to mean. 

it was within the realms of the x-ray department that i was confronted with just how damned, desolate, depressing and distressed my immediate future was. when i took a seat to wait there was  a lady of some year not (too) far behind me, along with a late teen (or early 20s, maybe) lad, likely her son. after a few minutes wait (which occurred after i rang the bell as instructed to on arrival, only to be told off for pressing the bell as they "knew i was there") the lady said "i cannot stand this any more, just take me home". the gent protested, but she continued, saying quite categorically that she had very much had enough, that everyone dies of something and she would presently rather face that death now than spend any more moments in there. 

upsetting and unsettling to hear anyone speak so, but after just a few moments it was (very) clear as to why her spirit was so crushed. it would seem, based on my (admittedly) limited experience, that the staff of the x-ray department consider themselves a self-styled elite clique. my attempt to register my presence was just the initial contempt displayed. precisely one (1) person was doing any actual work, as in taking x-rays. the others, maybe half a dozen (6) or slightly north of this number, were having a right good time in the staff only section, laughing away, talking loudly and enjoying the fact that they were flaunting how they gave exactly zero (0) f***s about doing that which they are employed to do. for some reason the political answer to how to "fix" the NHS is always throw more money at it. this invariably just gets squandered, just enforcing a sense of responsibilities and/or efficiency would do some wonders. 

easily the biggest waste of money (and time and effort) is the insane amount of "no smoking" signs placed around the entrances to hospitals, be it signs, "warnings" that it is a "smoking exclusion zone" or similar and even painting "no smoking on the path". between transfers i of course elected to step outside momentarily (sorry) and asked where i may go to do so, knowing such rules are in the place. the answer was, categorically, to just go and have one by the front door. because that is what everyone - and very much the staff of the hospital are covered by the use of everyone - just does anyway. 

from what i can recall my time at x-ray was somewhere (potentially just) south of an hour, and i got seen to somewhat sooner than i had anticipated by the one member of staff not involved in the party the rest of the department were having. yes, the lady there (nurse, presumably, or is it radiologist) took my blood pressure (again) and seemed quite pleased with the result of such, despite opting not to share with me what it was. getting my x-ray, or rather x-rays, done was not (alas) easy as, apparently, my "arms were too big" for the machine. quite strange, that. indeed i would suggest i am larger than average, but no, i certainly do not have Schwarzenegger style bulging arms or anything like that. 

with the x-rays done, and my world moving into the wednesday aspect of all of this, off i was sent to the mysterious "SDU" department. via a step outside momentarily (sorry). 

it was to be within the realm of "SDU" that i would learn the true meaning of endurance, that i would experience what it is to be left exhausted, drained and broken by just how inefficient our supposedly brilliant NHS is. anyway, it turns out that "SDU" stands for "surgical decision unit". now that i think (or if you will in retrospect) this should have set off an alarm bell. a doctor had established the issue and come up with the solution, i had been referred there just to get it done. 

overall, or all in, it was four (4) hours i was in the hallowed grounds of "SDU". quite a few staff there too, although rather than have a party they seemed to just wander up and down a bit, doing little. from what i was able to tell there were, eventually, just another 3 (three) prospective patients as well as me, and did we all indeed have to wait. to be fair they did give us (serviceable) coffee and water. my time waiting was spent trying to get some sleep (not bad chairs) and taking a stroll every 45 minutes to an hour or so to be outside momentarily (sorry). 

yes, irrespective of who(m) arrived when, as if by fate i was last to be seen. at no stage did i raise any concern at that, for i was content that my treatment was straightforward and realistically unlikely to be as urgent as that which others needed. still, around 1am (or half past) when one of the people that came in after me was called a nurse took a break from doing a bit of a stroll to tell me that the "specialist doctor" that needed to see me was "stuck" in an emergency operation. i, and i do not feel unreasonably, asked exactly how much of a "specialist" one needed to be to simply make an incision and drain an abscess. this was a question which went unanswered. 

be warned as the next image is (quite) likely to be a distressed selfie. when it got to around 2:30am, or maybe (patience allowing) i asked one of the staff (a nurse, presumably) if i may possibly have another coffee, and also borrow a scalpel or similar sharp implement with which to stab myself so i could be taken to A&E and this "specialist" doctor could get on with seeing me. i got the coffee. 

coming up to around 3:30am i got told that the doctor would see me "now". as long as you accept that in this instance "now" was 15 or so minutes later, whilst he did something. probably wander around a bit aimlessly, for this seems to be the done thing in "SDU". eventually he led me to an entirely empty ward, directed me to the bed at the far (right) corner and made a performance of pulling the curtains around the bed. i suggested that i was perhaps not as modest (or shy) as he may have thought. he kept motioning for me to sit, but kept trying to join me on my right hand side. when he asked why i kept shuffling along i suggested that he might wish to sit (or stand) by my left, since that was the business end, the arm on which the issue was. 

he sort of looked at it briefly, prodded it, took my blood pressure (again) and measured it (which was done before, sorry, forgot to mention and as regular readers know editing doe snot happen here). then he produced a pen, drawing a circle around the abscess and writing the date (which was then wednesday) at the top of it. i did not feel unreasonable asking what, exactly, he was doing that for. he said he wished to see if it would get any bigger. indeed i said well no, it shall not if you just get on with doing the incision and draining thing what i am here for. apparently he was not going to do this, as he "was not sure" that it was an abscess with pus in it. surely, i stated, the doctor who examined it (what felt like a long time ago) and the x-ray clarified that? apparently not, at least not in his opinion. he wished to have it reviewed "in the morning", or rather later in the morning. then a letter would be posted advising of another appointment. this did not fill me with confidence, because if one considers the NHS to be woefully inefficient one really needs to experience the vagaries of Royal Mail and the Post Office. 

appreciating that some (hopefully not all) of you would think i should have rather censored the top left of this picture i (all the same) thought it best to use a tasteful picture of Larry Grayson to cover up the actual abscess, whilst leaving some of the circle on display for you. 

yes, for sure (to be sure) it was tempting to let the doctor experience just how hard i can punch, or call him some names. instead it was, of course, that i followed the rules of the English way of doing things, which effectively was that i thanked him very much indeed for having me be there for north of 7 hours for the issue not to be addressed. off i went home, then, via one of them "uber" things which was quite expensive at that time, but i feared how much a "regular" taxi would be. 

WEDNESDAY

with a (knowing) sense of optimism i set an alarm for 6:30am, retiring to bed just around 4:30. i was fairly certain verk was not going to happen, but there was a chance i might be all right, figuring i could just call a colleague to pick me up. the alarm went off, my arm was really sore, and so i went no, not at all, there is f*** all chance of me doing much of anything. 

oh, sorry, yes. the doctor also said he was going to "prescribe me some antibiotics", which were exactly the ones i already had. i pointed this out, which confused him, and he said he was giving me some more anyway, and that i should just double up the dose. despite (of course) him not being aware of what my current does actually was. so, between 6:30 and, say (around), 7:30am i took pills, drank coffee, had speaks with colleagues, got all the urgent verk i had covered, logged in as absent / sick on our new fangled, awful verk system for such and went back to sleep. pretty sure i did wordle too, but what the answer that day was escapes me. 

just (momentarily) south of 8am, as i was dozing off, i heard my phone ping. on instinct, as is the woeful way of the world we created, i checked it. it was this message. 

see, (some) people think i am exaggerating when i state that the medical profession in England (or the wider UK for all i know) has dumbed down to the point where anything and everything wrong with a smoker is purely because they smoke. whatever merits (or value) there is in the above (and there was certainly no "referral" when i was there, i assume this is automated whenever someone says yes they smoke) it's quite a bit of a kick in the teeth or wherever. as in seven odd hours for them to not fix what i was sent there for but here, we can help you quit smoking, honest. 

all is hazy but i believe (or think) it was just after 9am that i was woken by the sound of my phone ringing. i did not recognise the number, but as a "landline" (or if you will proper phone) was on display i thought it best to answer. oddly enough it was the hospital, for some reason reminding me that i was in there last night and a fair chunk of this (that) morning. apparently "on review" they all of a sudden needed to see me as soon as possible to get it sorted out, but i had to hurry as, and here we go with the efficiency again, they closed at 12 (noon). 

putting on some clothes i made my way to the nearest bus stop. surprisingly, since non-London public transport has been (pretty much) decimated to the point of being useless, a bus heading to the hospital arrived. not using the bus often i asked the driver what was my cheapest option for a return ticket to the hospital. he told me that it was £3 there and £3 back, or £6 for a day ticket. nice one. 

one would think being on a bus (ever so slightly but still) north of two hours before the efficient closing time would see me get there fine. not really, not really, no. somehow, or for some reason, the bus driver managed to take a wrong turn, and had to make a massive detour to "correct" the route. really do wish i was making this part up, but no. so a bus trip of around two (perhaps three) miles took in the region of one standard hour, yet i made it there on time. 

i checked in (just a regular desk, no ridiculous windows) and was advised to wait in the "sub waiting room", since the waiting room was packed. oh, great. whereas there was a quite formidable number of people there not so many were actual patients as such. lots of people would appear to think that a hospital appointment is just one of two birds one can kill with a single stone, the other being "family outing". make no mistake, i understand injured people requiring someone to take them there, and i certainly do not have an issue with children being there (it is school holidays). just, you know, a lady in her mid (to late) 20s there with her parents and one set of grandparents, with the grandfather visibly upset that so many other people had dared to be there, struck me as a bit much. 

not, i am happy to say, too much of a wait in this instance, and a merry lack of tattooed f***wits playing tinny, sh!tty rave music through the tinny, sh!tty speaker on their phone. by not all that much of a wait i do of course mean i was seen (slightly) within an hour, not far off their efficient closing time. 

this is all quite dragging on a bit, isn't it? and here i am assuming you are still with me. quite a bit more to go, alas, but hopefully this isn't all as dull as if, for instance, for some preposterous reason i wrote of visits to things like a car wash or a laundry. 

a different doctor, one who(m) practiced medicine without drawing circles, spoke to me and informed me that i had an abscess on my arm, and that it required an incision and draining. not sure what answer he was expecting (or hoping) for, but i did indeed point out that i was (very much) aware of this and that was why i had spent over 7 (hours) there, only for it not to be done. moving on he said right, let's get you checked in. i asked him to clarify what he meant by "checking in", and he responded that i would be put in a bed on a ward for the night ahead of surgery the next morning (thursday). i assured him that this was not going to happen. 

back in the 70s, likely most of the 80s and (potentially) some of the early 90s it was indeed "the done thing" for certain people to simply spend a lot of time taking up a hospital bed. leaving aside the genuinely ill, all sorts of hypochondriacs, shirkers, workshy types and "people who fancied a bit of a holiday" would merrily stay in a hospital for a week or so, with it al being seen as a bit of a laugh, or some harmless fun.  our population has more or less doubled since then; our hospital capacity has most decidedly not. we all too frequently get reports of patients seriously ill just being left on beds in corridors due to the lack of capacity, so there was absolutely no f****g way i was taking up a bed for something as minor as an abscess on my arm. 

perhaps sensing there was no conversation here the doctor said it would be fine for me to go home, i must not eat after 6pm, drink only water and be back there for 8:30. to clarify (or make clear) i said then you shall do it and i can go home, yes. his answer was yes, but only "after 5 or 6 hours". i asked why so long and he said "because that is how long it takes to recover from general anaesthetic". my response to that was that it didn't need a general anaesthetic, just a local so i could be on my way. he protested, saying that it "would hurt" and doing it that way "would leave me disfigured". once i said i was not worried about some scar and stressed that the "hurt" part was likely less ("fewer") that would be involved if i walked out and went and did it myself at home, he said that if i was certain then they might as well do it right now. i said thank you, that would be lovely. 

a nursing team then came in to do the procedure. having recently watched Marathon Man (and indeed here is the obligatory link) i asked if they were going to repeatedly ask me "is it safe" as they did it. they said no. yes, of course i asked if it would be all right if i had a cigarette whilst they did it (sorry) and they once again said no.

quite a wonderful opportunity was there as i laid and watch them cut into my arm and drain all the gunk. i said that there are 2 (two) theories as to what actually runs through my veins. some say it is pure, black ice, devoid of emotion and can never melt, whereas others are convinced it is just a blend of cigarettes and coffee. the nurse declined to answer. i don't believe she was really used to people being awake, having a look and asking questions as she cut into parts of their body and pulled stuff out. 

the whole thing, once they actually did what they were supposed to, took little more than ten minutes, perhaps at the most (a very Andy Warhol) fifteen. sure i could indeed "feel" them as they cut, pulled and what have you, but it was all numb so not painful at all. and no pain has visited me since. maybe i am just as emotionally heartless as some have observed. 

no, i am (most decidedly) not saying the NHS is all busted, broken, a mess and a disgrace purely on the basis of my experience. i am not all that self-absorbed or egotistical no matter what you may have heard. what i am saying, though, is very similar incidents to mine happen probably at least a thousand times a day in the NHS. leave aside my wasted 7 or so hours. just look at the ridiculous resources they were prepared to waste - a bed for the night, a surgery team and general anaesthetic - for a relatively simple, rudimentary procedure that took minutes. stop thinking that throwing yet more money at it all will fix anything, start asking them to be more better with the billions they have. 

i asked the nurses what, exactly, i should do about a bath or shower, as in would covering the bandage with cling film be sufficient or would it be better to use something more substantial. they looked at me rather like you would have hoped (if the stories are true) the staff at that one hospital should have done so when Sir Jimmy asked for a bit of privacy and a key for the morgue. apparently they were surprised at me wishing to wash, taking it as a given that i would not do so until at least my appointment to have the dressing removed. that appointment is for monday, whereas we were sill (as far as i was aware) very much on wednesday. 

yes, i managed to sort out some cling film around it and cracked on, so to speak. 

strewth, this has been one one (somewhat meandering) post. hopefully not all of it has been oh poor, poor pitiful me, yet i suppose by default (believe me i designed none of this) some if it shall very much be such. 

 

for those interested and a few days later there is no pain, just feels (slightly) tender which i think is what a 9cm gaping wound bandaged up should be like anyway. no, i simply cannot wait for the return to get the dressing changed. surely they can't make that much of a faff on with that one. or can they. 

let me go and consider thinking about how unwise i am in getting all worried that nothing (much) of interest shall happen that i can go ahead and write of here. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

mixed bag of fancy videos

hello there

so i have watched some more videos (discs, look you see). oddly, actually five (5) and not just 3 (three). certainly no more than that. as i think i possibly alluded to in the last post of watching a few films i did indeed gone done selected fancy videos to watch, or if you will blu ray discs. 

as ever i would have absolutely no idea what to do with this information beyond posting it here, so here we are, here we go. do be warned, of course, that them "spoilers" things are almost certainly going to crop up for a few of them. not sure they will in a film which is (ostensibly) of The King, Elvis Presley doing His thing, but all the same, warned you have been. 

it's at (the very) least worth trying to point out there is no "right or wrong" here, just my views, my experiences of watching some videos (discs). this is particularly pertinent for one of the below, as it is not a film i care for as much as a vocal majority do. disagreeing with anything i write here is just a level of normality existing. 

no of course these will not be in the order shown above. for that matter they are not even in the order i tried to upload (or add) the pictures, blogger has gone done its thing again. yet exactly how much is one supposed to complain about a gratis service? 

moving on then, and first it seems it (the way the pics have uploaded) wants me to write of one of two films here i would suggest contest being the "best" of this batch. which is Repo Man. hadn't seen it for years, browsed the web, found the video (disc) for somewhere agreeably north or south of £10 and went right ahead and procured it. 

quite possible this doesn't get the credit it (full tilt) deserves in terms of "influence". by that i mean in the broader sense, as in proving an audience exists for the abstract and giving certain film makers some clarity on how to present the abstract. i understand this is probably going to upset some devout fans of someone i really like, but is hard to imagine that David Lynch in particular was not informed by the approach of this one? 

plot? essentially a going nowhere fast punk kid (Emilio Estevez) accidentally ends up becoming a car repossession man, mostly under the mentorship of Harry Dean Stanton. going out and about doing their job sees them seeking out a mysteriously high value job to repossess a Chevy Malibu.......

little about this film isn't superb, so long as you buy into the abstract. the soundtrack is excellent, the performances are top level, with the story and pacing being spot on. it is full of lovely touches, with even the most minor character (the lady complaining about garbage on the street, the chap that wants to be near the window in the laundry) feeling inexplicably fleshed out with substance. anyone out there who(m) is a fan of, say, Blue Velvet or Twin Peaks, or even maybe X Files, that has not ever even heard of this one could do well worse than give it a watch. bonus points for the fancy video disc featuring the really, really strange tv edit of the film. 

for a change i did not watch all of these videos (discs) alone at my lodgings in this era of exile. of late my two (known) sons have suggested watching a film, bravely of my choice, when i see them weekly. the first one of them was Mad Max 2 which we found on one of them "streaming" things in its glorious, uncut form. then i brought over the video of Commando, assuring them that it was the greatest film ever made in all of history. 

the boys remonstrated with me as far as they dared, suggesting that it was not the greatest film ever. for some reason they felt two they had seen recently, The Odyssey and New Spider Boy Thing, were better. i asked them to please explain the parts in those films (and you have had a spoiler warning) that were on the same level as, say, breaking someone's neck on an airplane and then jumping off that plane, ripping a phone box out of the ground and throwing it at security guards or rowing to an island and knacking an entire army of soldiers. they could not do so. further, i did explain to them that a pivotal scene in the movie has had a massive influence on late 20th century (and 21st century thus far) acting. 

WARNING! THE BELOW SCENE CONTAINS NAUGHTY MATURE WORDS!

sadly Schwarzenegger does not get the credit he fully deserves for his acting, particularly not his 80s film roles. if you, for the moment, accept that Bill Duke serves as a foil here, watch the above paying attention to the subtle skills on display around the use of the word "you". note his elegant, Sir Roger Moore use of eyebrow motion to convey emotion, and the accentuation (or whatever, the pitch and tone) when saying "you". it may seem throwaway, but that has inspired generations of actors, with the likes of Day Lewis, Di Caprio, Oldman and (to a certain extent) Penn all clearly being disciples of this approach to acting. 

other choice terms from my two (known) sons review of Commando include "it wasn't as sh!t as we thought it would be", "what the f*** is Bennett supposed to be" (an effete, well fed Australian who rocks the Freddie Mercury look was my answer) and "what the f*** was that". these i shall take as positives, thanks. 

people really do not enjoy conversations about Terminator 2 with me mostly because i didn't really like it at the time (despite watching the original nigh on daily on video for a while) and very little on that view has changed. so if you are huge fan and wish to argue that it is "the best ever" you might want to skip this next part. 

rather unexpectedly i am seeing a whole load of fuss being made of the fact that it is, this year (2026), the 35th anniversary of what a few call either the greatest action film of all time or the greatest science fiction film of all time. hadn't seen it in years (was bored at the cinema, tried on video a few times), so when i saw the fancy video on sale down the market, i went yeah, go on, let's give it another go. 

calling this the "greatest action film" of all time is just ludicrous. and it's not that it has been surpassed since, it wasn't "better" than ones which came before. it was not even (at that time) the best action or science fiction film James Cameron had made by then, with the answer to both of those being Aliens. for those claiming "ah but it was Arnie's best action film", well, see Commando above, and then have a look at Predator, please. beyond that, well, which part(s) exactly of this disjointed, badly paced film make it the "greatest" action film, exactly? if they mean the chase thing where the truck crashes off of a bridge, i refer you to either of the "tanker chase" scenes in Mad Max 2 for something superior. should they mean the bit where they destroy the building (including the helicopter thing), well, Die Hard was a few years before this one. yes, the special effects were kind of smart, but nowhere near as revolutionary at the time as made out - the "morphing" thing the T-1000 does was done by James Cameron a few years earlier in the somewhat more impressive The Abyss. 

as for the film itself, well, it's a bit dull. this was the first real step in the gentrification of Arnie, and making him a "good" terminator was really boring. it keeps contradicting its own logic with either time travel or time displacement, whichever they called it. sure, a bit of Arnie's mangled arm remains in a machine off of a T-1000 fight, so the technology could be replicated, yet the end it suggesting that they stopped Skynet from ever existing. which would mean time travel / displacement either would not exist, or Reece would never have been sent back in the first film. why, then, does John Connor not just immediately disappear Marty McFly style? let us skip asking any questions about why, exactly, it is so that the T-1000 writhes and screams in pain and agony as "he" gets melted at the end. 

yes, there are cases where a sequel is superior (or more better) than the original film, but Terminator 2 is absolutely not one of them. for the life of me i cannot understand any reason regarding how or why so many seem to claim that it is. 

telling you that a film made by the highly celebrated Coen brothers (off of Big Lebowski) and Sam Raimi (of Evil Dead and at least two decent Spider Boy things) is just about all rubbish seems absurd. alas that is exactly what Crimewave (or any variation on name, it had a few) is. easily the biggest 

problem is that the film has no idea what it wishes to be, or (perhaps worse) does and fails. if the idea s to be a comedy then mostly it isn't funny, if horror then it isn't scary, if a thriller then there are no thrills. 

knowing full well that i wasn't really going to enjoy the film once more prompts the (entirely reasonable) question of why i even bothered purchasing it (south of £10 on a sale) let alone put the video (disc) in the machine. well, it so happens that in the midst of abject mediocrity there are two random scenes of pure comedy gold. i have elected to pirate them for you (VHS style) to save you from punishing yourself with the film entire. 

absolutely no plot relevance whatsoever exists in the abstract ten (or so) second scene above, yet it happens to be the funniest thing in the film and something which has lingered long in my memory. every now and then, when i am in a similar location, i shall indeed quote the young lad verbatim and do what he does. thus far no one has responded the same as the clip above. 

merrily there is a second scene with the same kid, featuring the same location. this does (somewhat) have a bearing on the plot, but not much. from what i can gather some sort of "warning" is best applied before you click play. everyone is so sensitive about everything these days one can never be sure if a term used is "outdated" or otherwise "offensive". 

once more, then, to be safe (to be sure), i must caution you against ever trying to watch Crimewave. no, not even Bruce Campbell turning up and being Bruce Campbell for a few minutes can save the mess. at the least the immense talent involved (and squandered) in making this went on to do considerably better stuff, and they shall always know what the worst thing they made was. 

finally, then, one that i had not seen before, although it (very much) felt like i had. you would think i would have rushed to see EPiC as soon as possible, but a sense of doubt had me be cautious. mostly, sadly, this caution was correct. 

make no mistake, when EPiC does what it says on the box, which is showcase The King, Elvis Presley live in concert, it's brilliant. any enjoyment of this is marred if not ruined by the self-indulgent, egotistical "edits" the (apparently) complete tw@t of a "director" made to it all. 

very early on one gets a warning that things shall not be smooth, for the name "baz lurhman" is presented as large, if not larger, than that of The King, Elvis Presley. pretty sure he lets his name linger on screen much longer too. sadly this ominous credit sequence does indeed render the film as feared. just as you are enjoying a brilliant performance all of a sudden gets edits, cuts, overdubs and what have you for no good reason at all. really a frustrating use of the material, quite like when that tw@t had unbelievable access to David Lynch and effectively made the (weak) documentary a lame excuse to impose a massive picture of his own head on screen at the end. 

i am very much calling bullsh!t on the claim that this is mostly "recently unearthed footage". no it (most certainly) is not. quite clearly the "unseen" stuff are songs from the performance recorded for the brilliant That's The Way It Is film, and just didn't get used in either the original version or special edition. reasonably sure, without getting the video (disc) out, that the Madison Square Garden footage featured in the brilliant Prince From Another Planet box set. unless (in regards of the That's The Way It Is footage) they are going to claim that Glass Eye went to a second show in the same suit and sat in the same place and The King, Elvis Presley wore the same outfit. 

there is no good nor valid reason i can think of for them letting this mess be made. really all they had to do was take the "unearthed" footage and present the entire show which was filmed. undoubtedly fans like me would have appreciated it more. and, you know, the whole (entire) point of this film was surely to surely to showcase how great He was, not what editing tricks this baz bloke had learned down at film school. 

phew. rather a lot of waffle here, some views (or reviews) that will likely upset some loyalists, and a few video clips likely to "offend" someone somewhere. thanks, at the least, for taking the time to read some comments on some films that possibly differ from the ones you have on at least some of them. 

right, i have procured yet more "regular" video (discs) from down the market, so no doubt the next post along these lines shall be of the less ("fewer") fancy variety of watching. indeed mostly, or for the most part, i have gone right ahead and picked up a load of films that i have already seen, if quite some time ago. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

give it to me one more time, now

welcome

and so another gig to document. quite a good one, look you see, although the theme may well feel rather familiar. so yes, then, (somewhat) improbably i have managed to have the good fortune of seeing Holly Johnson once more, following reasonably recent ones in 2023 and 2025. considering that prior to that i had "only" seen him with full tilt Frankie Goes To Hollywood in 1987 (!), well, after a gap it seems i am seeing him frequently and all of a sudden during even numbered years too. 

it was, perhaps surprisingly, not so that i intended to see him again this year. whilst i was aware of him playing the highly praised (and rightly so, but more later) Scarborough Open Air Theatre, well, with no car that is not an easy venue to get to. for a major coastal town it is not well serviced at all by trains. anyway, a good friend of mine who(m) had never seen Holly but was something of a fan put a deal on the table. if i were to get the tickets then he would drive us there and back. done. 

maybe, somehow, i am not a "proper" fan of Holly (or Frankie) for not actively seeking a way to get to the gig of my own accord, but hey. life, you know. yes, of course, the moment i was there i was aware of what an act of folly it would have been not to have been there. 

rather than a "support act" or "supporting acts" we had what was billed as "special guests". there is indeed a subtle difference. on the instance of seeing Frankie in 1987 (!) it was very much "special guests", since the mega selling Berlin were on first. for the previous two Holly gigs, well, classical support acts, as in relatively unknown singers or bands. to be fair both of them were rather good, or at the least (worst case) somewhat more agreeable than the curious lady at Adam Ant, who(m) did a song about space tampons and had tape (or plasters) over her (upper) lady bits. 

first of the two (2) special guests was Heaven 17. of the entire line up, if i am honest, this would be the band that i was "least" interested in, but that does not mean i had no interest at all. well, they did lift their name from A Clockwork Orange, so it's not that i have an issue with them. it turned out that i knew more than the 2 (two) songs i thought was all i knew of them, with those being Fascist Groove Thang and of course Temptation. 

honestly a rather excellent start to the evening. i mean, they were really good. don't wish to sound patronising or dismissive, but much of the joy of their set was exactly how comfortable they clearly were with doing their songs from the 80s. for clarification, you do get many musicians who (and this is not unreasonable) only want to do their new stuff, rather than what fans may wish for. i would consider it something amazing if i had written something that a crowd of people were shouting / singing back at you well north of 40 years later. 

with such hefty line up i had thought that Heaven 17 would get 30 minutes, ABC 40 (or so) minutes and then Holly would do a 75 - 80 minute set. this was mostly based on the Suede and Manics joint tour that i shall save you yet more links from. not so, as both the bands who were not Holly had a decent 45 minutes each. that said Heaven 17 did do "a bit of padding", electing for a (really smart) extended 12" take on Temptation and, as displayed in the (poor) video above, a cover of Let's Dance off of David Bowie. 

very much a band that wished to enthusiastically engage with the audience, making it all the more of a great set. bit of a "strange" moment, mind. the lead singer, Glenn, expressed dismay that their early appearances on Top Of The Pops were not on the internet, all due to Sir Jimmy happening to have been the host. referencing him, and indeed (not unfairly or in any way incorrectly) describing him as a "dirty b@st@rd" was an interesting thing to do in Scarborough, and it was rather curious for them to follow up that tirade with a song about a relationship between a 37 year old chap and a 17 year old girl. 

bit of a brief break from the vibes (and i do promise Holly features eventually) for a "review" of sorts for anyone doing a kind of "is Scarborough open air theatre good" google thing. yes, mostly, but there are a couple of clauses. this is easily one of the loudest concerts i have ever attended, and that was awesome. whilst i did not drive, it was a breeze to get in and out of the place, and there's loads of parking available. it took no more than ten (10) minutes from leaving the venue to being in the car on our way home (hoo ha, hoo ha). yes, that is my forearm above, with the band thing i got for getting tickets in the standing area. 

concentrating on the left hand side of the "composite" picture above, it was rather disappointing that they only hand ABC stuff on sale. for whatever reason (at a guess profit sharing) neither Holly nor Heaven 17 had supplied them with "merch". oh well. the rather bigger part of the sign is offering an upgrade to "rooftop VIP" for £30 a go. we asked the staff about and they said (relax) don't do it as it was a rip off. sorry for my poor narration, but here you go with that - 

i am all too aware of how they try and "maximise income" (or fleece people) with concert tickets these days, be it "dynamic pricing" or charging more for the "golden circle" at the front. for the latter i did indeed indulge such for the 2025 variation of seeing Holly. this one, however, is just plain ridiculous. had one been fooled into purchasing this "upgrade" (and you can see some did), well, at best if you were in the 8 or 10 seats closest to the stage you would have a highly restricted view of the stage, and anyone not in those seats might as well have not bothered. if you are looking for a nice sit down at a table near a bar i would suggest what you are looking for is a pub or restaurant. so far as i am aware neither of such type of place would charge anything for you to enter, let alone an extra £30 on what you had already paid. 

leaving that aside (yet do take heed of it if you are here doing research before going) and wow, what a venue. considering the costs of doing catering at a gig the food wasn't that badly priced. if you expect to pay a bit more, well, £12.50 for sausage and chips is what i went for. a pepperoni pizza was £16, which is likely half of what a regular one costs in London (innit). cans (!) of water were £2.50, representing the cheapest drink. famously i am not allowed alcohol on medical advice, but pints of beer / lager (i can recall seeing Budweiser) were £7. 

returning to the music, then, and i was delighted to see that ABC were on the support. whereas no, i would not call (or consider) myself a "proper fan", they have done some truly brilliant music. even better was that i had hopes of them doing two specific songs and i got (at the least) one of them, for they opened with When Smokey Sings. alas no luck with the second i had hoped for, One Better World, but all the more excuse to (hopefully) see them again one day. 

a very clear, palpable gasp of admiration swept the crowd as Martin Fry took to the stage. you could hear, and indeed me and my friend engaged the same, everyone commenting how he has "really looked after himself". well, he always one really handsome chap, but still (or all the same) it is decidedly so that he has done that very English way of doing things thing of becoming even more elegantly handsome as time has gone by. playing in the background were curated highlights from some of their videos, which was lovely as i was in my MTV t-shirt. i liked the statement that was being made in a possibly tacit way, that the band have aged but they own the age. 

my usual apologies for the standard poor video, but there above for you is a snippet of Shoot That Poison Arrow. i was (honestly) quite surprised this was not the last song of their set, for i had assumed it was their biggest hit. when i mentioned this to my friend he sort of looked at me blankly and said The Look Of Love. oh yeah. in my (partial) defence, at the time i was in fair dinkum (g'day) Australia, and whereas Poison Arrow got played a lot, one hardly heard Look Of Love. had no idea that was the bigger hit back home in England.

overall, and much like Heaven 17, a most agreeable set that was highly enjoyable. if i were to be as honest as i strive to be here, i might have marginally enjoyed the Heaven 17 set more purely (and only)because it, in the moment, took me by surprise as to just how familiar i actually was with their songs. also yes they did a Bowie, and no i am not precious about covers. with ABC, well, very much more of a "known quantity". easily i am more familiar with their songs, and there was never any doubt that they would deliver a class set. 

go on, then, however many paragraphs in (a few), finally some overt Holly in a post which is ostensibly about Holly. the star of the show, of course, and very much the main man. quite the buzz, to state the obvious, when he took to the stage. well, why exactly would people be there if they didn't dearly love Holly? yet i do recall the lad who went to The Stone Roses at Heaton Park purely as Plan B was on the support bill, and all them people in Scotland who went to see Suede just to shout "you effete southern w@nkers" at them the whole show. 

taking as a given this is the 4th time (in total) i have seen him, it was indeed very agreeable that for the 3rd time of such he opened with Warriors Of The Wasteland, the penultimate single off of Frankie from their final album, and a sign that the end was in sight when it failed to make the top ten. lousy video for it didn't help. but by all accounts the band really weren't interested in being in the same room as each other by that point.

as i mentioned earlier i, not unreasonably, assumed this might (possibly) have been a shorter set. well, it was really one awesome line up, and time is finite with curfews and that. my assumption was possibly all seven (7) Frankie singles (since Warriors got dropped for the last gig), all 4 (four) singles from his magnificent Blast album, the two famous Frankie covers (Born To Run and War), with possibly one of his favourites, likely Penny Arcade thrown in. we got that, and some more too. result. 

video? of course. going to do this radically out of sequence, alas, but hey, my (last time i looked) blog. first up then, and this kind of fits in with the last paragraph, the final single from Frankie, which Holly introduced as being Frankie's last stand, Watching The Wildlife. 

regular (or frequent) readers here shall know full well my proclivity for sentimental hygiene, yet still to this day i get sad whenever i heard Watching The Wildlife end. each and every time i hear the song fade away feels like Frankie Goes To Hollywood splitting up again. soft touch, yes, i know. 

in respect of speaks (or "banter") with the crowd, well, Holly was his usual loveable, how on earth does he get away with it filter free self, really. perhaps not as much chatting about cottaging or frotting or similar, maybe sensing it was a vaguely family area he was in. still, he was delighted when he saw some dude was stood at the end of the stage doing all of the songs in sign language. which was, to be honest, a lovely thing to see. Holly asked him if he could do sign language for ejaculation, he could, he did and Holly was most pleased with it, pointing out it would be important later. 

the last song of the set, as has now been the case on the three (3) solo shows i have seen, was The Power Of Love, which he says is the one song he wants to be remembered for. indeed i did film it, but on playing it back there's more the sound of a nearby conversation than Holly singing, sorry. instead, then, above is the penultimate song from the show, and the one i (apologies to him) would suggest is the one he shall always be remembered for, Relax. 

by the way, no, i do not care what your lifestyle preference (or choice) is, sexually or otherwise - the chap dancing in the video on the back screen thing is f*****g hot. and i doubt that there's anything more i could write of Relax that i have not done in the last twenty (!) or so years here. except, perhaps, that there are an extraordinary number of people around the world who associate the song with moi, which is most sincerely flattering. 

with regards (or respect) to the Frankie elements of the set, i guess (oddly) right, yet there was one addition. taking me by (most pleasant) surprise was the performance of Wish (The Lads Were Here) from the Welcome To The Pleasuredome album. 

on to the Holly Johnson solo songs, then, and once more (look at me showing off) i did indeed get the content mostly right. a bit disappointing that Heaven's Here noticeably fell flat with large chunks of the audience (via close ups on the big screen) - sure, not his greatest song but still a decent one. 

my favourite Holly solo song - and so the one i shall (obviously) argue is his finest - remains Love Train, which of course got an airing. i kind of promised myself no, i am not going to film it, just rather enjoy it, but here we are. at the least i just took in every moment of Two Tribes. 

something that never occurred to me is that there are fans of Holly solo and that's it. my friend is indeed one of them, for he didn't care about Frankie but loved Holly's solo stuff. there are one or two others i am aware of that this is true for. normally it's a bit of a "devout yet diminishing" audience when a singer leaves a really big band. the only three (3) singers i can think of (and there are likely more) who(m) went on to get an even bigger audience after leaving a huge band are Michael Jackson, Lionel Richie and of course George Michael. 

for some reason it feels like everyone in the UK but moi believes Americanos to be Holly's greatest solo single. this is (very much) true of my friend, who wanted to go to the gig specifically to hear him do it. whereas no, it is not bad, i do (kind of) feel like it's a bit of throwaway fluff pop, and was (slightly) disappointing after Love Train promised some really mind-blowing pop. still, for those keen on it, here you go, the last bit of video i am sharing from the gig. 

yes, as i guessed (or rather hoped) Holly did indeed do Penny Arcade. he has never made it a secret that he is really fond of it, and clearly frustrated it didn't get "out there" to a bigger audience. perhaps it would be fair to say he is quite cross that it did not, as all of the audience got told off by him for us not buying the Dreams That Money Can't Buy album which it is from. a little harsh, since i have the cassette (actual) of it here, but i get his point. he also did This Was Me from the Everbody's Talking About Jamie soundtrack, which is a really really good song that flew under the radar. likely as it was released in or around 2021, when we were all distracted by the plague thing. 

was there any songs i would have liked to hear? overwhelmingly (as an absolute) i am happy to hear anything he cares to do, thanks. if pressed (which i am not) then i would suggest that some of the other six (6) songs on Blast which weren't singles appear to have been discarded. off the top of my head two of them, Perfume and in particular Deep In Love, are great, fun pop songs. but, if he doesn't feel like doing them, or doesn't feel like the audience would dig them, so be it. 

right, the inevitable (and very standard) "will i see Holly again" question. of course i would very much like to, but that depends entirely on him deciding to do more gigs and it being possible for me to get to where he is playing. if it's not feasible or possible, well, ok, i can live with the fact that i have now seen him three (3) more times further than i had ever expected to. 

indeed i did share some of these videos and pictures with friends and family around the world. for some reason Dad (unexpectedly) has taken quite a shine to the boots (or exaggerated shoes) Holly has on, and is actively seeking a pair for himself. when asked if he felt the same about the dapper leather shorts his answer amounted to "no", but with rather stronger language. 

to be stolen or bought, to be stolen or bought. 

laundry exploits

heya

just another laundry visit for moi, documented here mostly for the sake of posting something, look you see. it is remotely (slightly) possible that some vaguely different words will be here in comparison to other posts on the same subject, but also not. 

usual motivations for going to the laundry, then. i was up and about (reasonably) early on a Saturday, which is just about the only day i have no need to be up and about in any great hurry, so figured yeah, let me go and get the bedding wash and (indeed) dried. bath mats too, since i was there, and as to sort of mix up stuff a red hoodie thing what i had forgotten about. yes, we are in the midst of a summer that is very much scorchio and apparently the summer shall never ever end, but on the off chance autumn and then winter do come along, well, i have something different to wear. 

pretty much like the last visit to the laundry i arrived just after the designated official opening time, yet found it in full swing. a rather secretive (or just private) chap was using a tumble dryer, and i am fairly sure it was the same mother and daughter i saw there last time there again. this is an open to the public business concern, so presumably all are welcome. 

indeed i have, that said, been mindful of what i have come to term the "politics" of the laundry. or laundrette if you want to use that name (term) for it. to recap, or to explain for anyone new, from what i gather the later in the day it gets the more people turn up, and whereas people using the washing machines are supposed to get priority use of the dryers, well, not everyone respects rules in this world. 

some video of the experience for you (above), then. if there's some music that would be because the mother and daughter elected to have a "mini disco" thing on the go, streaming some 70s radio station or other through a phone. so yes it sounded horrid, and to be honest (or blunt) the radio station seemed to exists mostly to play adverts, but still some decent tunes on the go. if it were a station specialising in adverts and songs 2000 onwards i might (may) well have been inclined to tell them to switch the f***** thing off and to f*** off out of it. 

what did i do whilst i waited for the washing machine (and dryer) to do the business? read, mostly. yes, i did pop out for the occasional cigarette (sorry) and had a bottle of water with me, but being at the laundry gives one the perfect excuse to just sit and read. read or play music via a phone, evidently. 

now, then, if anyone off of verk is for some reason reading this, they might believe that class red bag which i use to take bedding (and what have you) to the laundry and back looks familiar. it is entirely possible that they mistake it for one of the smart "winter kits" they issue us with for our vehicles, and may further assume to presume i have just gone and ditched all that stuff, using the bag for whatever else takes my fancy. simply a co-incidence that it looks so similar. 

costs have, interestingly, not increased. it is still either £5.50 for a regular washing machine or £6.50 for the larger capacity one (went modest) and still £1 per 10 (ten) minutes of the tumble dryer. for a business to not increase costs for some 18 months, whether from necessity of their own costs or via reasons of pure greed, is a rare and welcome thing. 

footage above is off of the tumble dryer, where you may well (if you are inclined) be able to see that i have spoken (written) a truth concerning the costs. in a moment of boredom i sent this video to a cross-equator family chat. quite a mistake as Mum saw it and absolutely knacked me for washing whites and coloureds in the same thing. i did explain that the only white item was a mattress protector and i was not all fussed if my smart koala bedding "ran" and changed the colour of it, but apparently that was not the point. 

yes, it has been a fair bit of time since i balanced out laundry visit posts with the wonders of the modern car wash facility. of late i just haven't taken it through the machines. not for want of trying. once i went to get it washed and there was a bloke filling up the fuel tanks, and apparently (for no given reason) he is known to get quite cross when people use the car wash when he is doing his thing. oh. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

futbol amistós

hola

and so, as is the nature of such things, not all that long after the completion of a (on the whole, look you see) quite agreeable world cup it is so that domestic football leagues resume their business. well, leagues based in the northern hemisphere, at the least, with particular emphasis on European ones. 

before competition "proper" kicks off there is the small matter of "friendlies". these are of course warm up games, existing in intention to give players a chance to get into form, have new players settle in to the team and try out any new tactical masterplans the coaching staff have devised. a reality of the modern day game, of course, is that for some teams friendlies have become not that much more than lucrative opportunities to make yet more coins. well, it is a (very) big business these days, we all stood around and watch it become such, so fair enough. nice for the fans of the "big" (massive) teams around the world that often friendlies are played overseas. you cannot sell too many shirts. 

my ostensible team, Middlesbrough, are not really "galactic" in terms of an international following, so there's not (too) much in the way of desire or ambition for them to go and play friendlies in different lands. so, as was the case last year (here you go) a friendly was arranged this year against very decent opponents, if not what you would call "a grade" famous. no disrespect is intended, and certainly i would suggest the opponents are "bigger" than us. 

our guests this year were Espanyol, who(m) i would suggest are the "second" biggest team in the Catalan region of Spain. well, it would take some doing to topple Barcelona from their status as the biggest, even if that side no longer seems to get as many favourable decisions from officials these days. having (very much) enjoyed the afternoon out last year (2025) i went along again this (2026). 

i did not, as it happens, attend alone. well, no, of course there were quite a few there (more than the one last year), what i mean is i didn't "go solo". with tickets priced at £10 for adults and all of £1 (a single solitary pound) for under 18s, i took my youngest (known) son and his girlfriend. despite William not being all that interested in football his girlfriend very much is, and so i got tickets. so yes, then, one or two pictures to follow (two) do indeed feature moi. like this one. 

quite a decent match day programme (of sorts) i am holding there. more of a "fold out" poster, as it happens, with all our fixtures for the season on it. as was the case last year, this shall be getting posted to New Zealand for Dad to do with it as he sees fit. yes, i did indeed offer both of my guests (as it were) a programme each but they declined. 

yes, indeed there is some video here for you all. first up is the one below, which shows that it was perhaps not just the players who needed a bit of a chance to be ready for the season ahead.........

tradition dictates that the visiting team starting line up is read out (over the speaker system) first, giving fans who(m) have made the trip a chance to cheer them and, invariably, the home fans every opportunity to boo them. after that the home team gets read out, with a second or two pause between names, allowing the larger home crowd to cheer. usually this is so. not on that fine (very) early August afternoon, however. timings were a bit off, and so we were left with just a bit of a "speed read" through half of our team, as the match kicked off before it was completed. apparently the referee had no interest at all in a slight delay to let the huddled masses applaud some names. 

didn't really have too many expectations (or hopes) for the match, although i was quite interested in seeing how we got on without Hackney. he was, i believe, voted "player of the season" by his contemporaries across the division we are perpetually in, and was always destined to go on to what gets notionally called a "bigger" (as in Premier League) club. not too surprised he has moved on to Everton, but somewhat surprised that we got a fee of "only" north of £15 million. most thought it would be a figure far north of £20 million. just 30 years ago Newcastle were described as "bonkers" for spending a whole £15 million on Alan Shearer. imagine what the figures shall be like in 30 years from now. 

picture above is from the match, and yes that is two (2) empty stands. last year there was only the one section of the ground open for fans, the west stand. this time the west and south were, so to your left you are seeing the empty north stand, and across the east stand. from what i recall of the announcements there was some 15,000 in attendance. quite a lot of that was families, taking full advantage of the rather generous pricing for under 18s. 

should it be that you are presently reading this (and thanks for doing so) in the hope of some details of the game, well, it finished 3-3. last year it was 2-2, so presumably next year (2027) it will be 4-4. for our team (the Boro), relative newcomer Leo Castledine got a couple, sandwiching one from the lad most likely to be our key player this season, Morgan Whittaker. in terms of the latter, that all did seem improbable for a while. many - myself very much included - wondered why, exactly, we persevered with him, since he seemed "not up to it". by chance i was at the Ipswich match where we all saw him transform from being error prone to someone who could dictate the match (to use some classic punditry wording). rather surprised (and delighted) that we have managed to hold on to him, which isn't a statement many fans would have made prior to that transformative performance against Ipswich. 

bit more video for you above, then, and by chance it was our third goal that i captured. just a chance recording, really, although of course you can't (really) clearly see what's going on down at the business end of the pitch. not sure why i recorded a corner being taken. generally a "problem" Middlesbrough has is an inability to score from things like open play, corners, free kicks and penalties (not that we get awarded too many). over time we have been seen as a "goal scorers graveyard", where prolific players have come with much promise and not delivered. even when they buck that trend, well, who does not recall Ravanelli scoring 30 goals for us in a season that ended with relegation and two cup final defeats. mind, Boksic was good, but at a cost. 

the score got to 3-3 with around twenty (or so) minutes to go, and at that point both teams appeared to elect that such was enough. for the remainder of the afternoon it was quite clear, and this is fair, both sides were happy just to try out a few tactics they had been working on. especially as the opponents would not be familiar with such, unless of course one of the two had done a Southampton. 

a rather nice chap, who(m) had come all the way from Spennymoor and assured me (not that i had any reason or wish to doubt such) that he had been watching Boro since 1963, seemed not so much frustrated as he was confused as to why, in that final stretch, neither side played with any real impetus or momentum. i offered him the suggestion that there was, in essence, absolutely "nothing on the line" here, no prize was at the end. he seemed content with that. 

from an enjoyment (or entertaining) perspective, the first half of the match very much provided this. i think all had a sense that the second half would not be quite so lively, as both teams would likely make substitutions with gay abandon so as to give all the squad a run out. such did indeed happen, with i think both teams making four (4) subs each with only a handful of minutes remaining. 

go on then, one more picture. and yes, a (vague) warning, as i do indeed feature in it. but so does William. not his girlfriend, however, as it would strike me as inappropriate to do so. my intention with this picture was to kind of echo one i took with his older brother, my oldest (known) son, somewhere around nine (9) years ago at (obviously) a different match. nine and a half years ago, as point of fact. 

easiest thing to say here, and to describe any friendly match, is that "one cannot tell" much of how the season ahead shall go on the basis of this game. well, if we had got battered 4-0 i suspect you would be perfectly fine having a guess that a tough season was waiting. by the same measure, i suppose, had we gone and won 4-0 there there would be (reasonable) expectation of a decent run. 

how likely am i to go to further matches? it would be lovely. clearly i am not a "proper fan" as i cannot make most games, mostly down to cost and transport. also i am not one of those who(m) plays the "i have been a fan for x years" card. maybe one or two select matches, then. 

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