Archive for June, 2019

My Mum: Part 2

Saturday, June 15th, 2019

I have two stand out memories involving my brother and I with regard to my mum. We both attended Penlan Comprehensive and initially we came home for lunch. Well one Monday lunch time my mum served up bubble and squeak which comprised left overs from Sunday’s roast dinner. My brother and I refused to eat it, and we were sent packing with no food in our bellies. My mum was mortified, but it didn’t dawn on me until later that she had no other food in the house and no money to pay for it.

One summer we were getting on my mum’s nerves. Something was said and she chased us out of the house, but she continued to come after us. Now the prefab was single storey and had a flat roof. It also had a trellis which we used to climb onto the roof to avoid capture, unbeknown to my mum. She continued to make several laps of the prefab until one of the neighbors cried out: “Vi, the boys are on the roof!!!” Thank goodness she saw the funny side of the situation.

I’ve touched a little on her stubborn streak, and the next tale merely emphasizes the point. It was during the Swansea Blitz back in 1941. My mum hated going down to air raid shelters because they were “grimy, smelly and generally full of people.” My mum had recently purchased a new red overcoat, and she was going out for the evening with my Dad. However an air raid siren pierced proceedings  and she decided they would shelter in a door way on the way up the street. Unfortunately the Luftwaffe proceeded to drop a bomb on the other side of the street and my mum’s brand new coat was covered in dust. She screamed out in indignation: “Jack, look at my coat, look at my coat!” My Dad replied: “Never mind your bloody coat, we could have been killed!!!!”

One summer my mum and dad boarded the paddle steamer which left Swansea and headed towards Ilfracombe North Devon for the day. At the end of the day they missed the boat returning to Swansea, and were forced to take the milk train (red eye?) back to Swansea arriving home in the early hours of the morning. We had no telephone and had no idea what happened. I asked my Dad how did they manage to miss the boat and he told me to ask my mum. So I did and she said: “I don’t want to talk about it!!!”

In the last twenty years of her life she showed great courage and resilience in fighting a crippling illness, rheumatoid arthritis, which grew steadily worse over time. This debilitating illness was exacerbated by a nasty ulcer on her leg. She eventually required plastic surgery on her leg which was performed at Chepstow Hospital’s Burns Unit. She never complained, but was worried about my Dad who had succumbed to another dreadful disease, Alzheimer’s.

It was not long after she left hospital that my Dad had to be admitted to Cefn Coed Hospital where he would spend the rest of his days. I believe I only witnessed my mum cry twice, the first time was when my nana passed away in 1960 and secondly when we drove my Dad to hospital. Ironically my Dad was admitted around about their 50th Anniversary, which was a hollow feeling for my mum considering the circumstances. Three months later my mum suffered a heart  attack and passed away. Now this may sound clichéd, but there is no doubt in my mind she died of a broken heart. She couldn’t bear the thought of my dad cooped up in a mental institution, and it was truly the last straw.

She gave me so much support and encouragement during my life particularly when I was going through a nasty divorce. She made a telling comment when I told her not to worry about me because I was a middle aged man capable of looking after myself. She replied: “You are my son and I will always worry about you regardless of your age.” I didn’t  think much of the comment at the time, but she was absolutely right. I find myself worrying about my own kids who are in their late thirties, and I only wish my mum was still around  to ask her advice or seek guidance now and again.

She was cremated and we scattered her ashes at Pennard Castle, and  she had own distinctive way of saying goodbye. I grabbed a handful of ashes and cast them into the wind only for the ashes to blow back into my face. What an exit!!!

Rest in Peace Mum (1920-1992.)

This blog is dedicated to my grand daughter Alice Violet who was given her second name by my son in memory of my mum and his Nana, Vi (Violet.)

 

 

 

 

 

Final Thoughts on the Champions League Final

Sunday, June 9th, 2019

I have been a much maligned Tottenham Hotspur supporter since 1961. It’s no coincidence that was the season that Spurs became the first team to achieve the double (league title and FA Cup) in the 20th Century. It’s almost common place now, and Manchester City went one further last season by completing the treble (Premiership, FA Cup, and League Cup.)

Spurs won the European Cup Winners Cup in 1963 and the EUFA Cup in 1972, but apart from a semi-final appearance in the European Cup (subsequently renamed the Champions League Trophy) in 1962 when they were unlucky to lose to Benfica, they hadn’t come close to winning the most prodigious Club trophy in European football.

Following their miraculous effort in the semi-final to defeat Ajax I was really geared up to watch the final against Liverpool. The Reds had also achieved a miracle by overcoming a 0-3 deficit  to squeeze past Barcelona, and the stage was set for a grand finale.

Unfortunately, the game could be summed up by one word: DIRE!!!! Spurs conceded a penalty 26 seconds from the kick off, and the score remained 1-0 until the dying minutes when Liverpool scored a second to clinch the match. Spurs had 67% of the possession in the first half but did not have on shot on goal.

Several reasons have been put forward for the lack luster performance by both teams. Neither team had kicked a ball competitively for three weeks, and perhaps it was asking too much for the drama, intensity and excitement of the semi-finals to be repeated in such a short period of time. The temperature in the Madrid stadium at kickoff was 90 degrees Fahrenheit which is not conducive for fast flowing football.

However what annoyed me more than anything was Spurs manager, Mauricio Pochetinno’s team selection. Harry Kane is admittedly one of the best strikers in the world, but he hadn’t played competitively for 8 weeks due to injury. Now there is a vast difference to being declared physically fit compared to being match fit, and common sense should have told Pochettino to leave Kane on the bench. To make room for Kane, Lucas Mora was consigned to the role of substitute despite scoring a hat trick  in the semi-final. Needless to say Liverpool’s central defender, Virgil Van Dyck had Kane in his pocket for the whole match.

Harry Wicks is a reasonable midfield player but a little out of his depth at this level. He had not played for six weeks due to injury, and unsurprisingly was anonymous. His only memorable contribution was eyeing up the blonde streaker who took a shine to him.

Both teams use wing backs as an attacking resource, and you would assume that Trippier and Rose would have the edge because they are the current England full backs. Not so. Liverpool’s Alexander-Walker and Andy Robertson were vastly superior.

Christian Eriksen is highly regarded as the Spurs playmaker. So much so that Real Madrid are keen to acquire his services. Unfortunately he failed to deliver on the big stage, and spent most of the match drifting towards the sidelines. Son Heung-Min had a wonderful season but was another Spurs regular who chose to an off day in the final. Finally we come to the enigma that is Dele Alli. A couple of seasons ago he looked world class, but has been  on a downward  spiral since the World Cup.

I don’t really understand what his role is. Okay, he’s a midfield player. But he can’t tackle and his passing is very inconsistent. He has goal scoring ability, but that  sadly has deteriorated markedly over the past twelve months. My comments on Alli could also be attributed to the Spurs team. When they are good, they are very good. But when they are not so good they are frustrating to watch. It’s all very well for Pochettino to claim they will be back next season, but I believe they blew their chance. Top teams like Manchester City, Liverpool, Barcelona, Real Madrid are reloading as I write, and Spurs will need to sign three or four quality players to compete with their rivals.

Daniel Levy, get your cheque book out!!!!