Mascots

One of the exciting things Mr Ridsdale is promising City fans is a new club mascot. So here are some for you to think about:




Aee also this: sports-mascot.com

MR RIIIIDSDAAAALE!!!!!

Meanwhile back at Ninian Park the takeover continues. Sam Hammam is quietly being written out of history (Sam who?), and Peter Ridsdale (surely it was him Norman Wisdom was always shouting for: "Mr Ridsdale? MR RIDSDALE?") carries on the takeover and reinventing history. Of course all City fans want to be in the Premiership visiting Old Trafford, Stamford Bridge and the Emirates Stadia, and of course we wouldn't mind a new stadium ourselves - but why must we always be run by a dodgy second hand car salesmen with a permatan that no one trusts - and I mean no one. Why does the club's fate have to be linked to dubious business deals in the city? And come to think of it I don't mind Ninian Park, actually. And really it was quite a lot of fun away at Cheltenham Town and Gillingham and Oxford United with about 100 supporters, now I come to think about it.

Screw this, whatever happens us City fans will still be there singing.

"We've been to Halifax, we've been to Hartlepool, we've been to Crewe, we've been to Burnley too (spit), we've been to Gillingham, we've been to Wrexham, and all because, Cardiff we love you".

And if we go up to the premiership we'll still sing it. Except they'll be a load of new people around who won't have ever been anywhere near any of those grounds, so we can sing "Where were you when we were shit?" at them. Which will be fun too. I suppose. And I guess if City do go up and we're in France I'll be able to see a lot of games on Sky.

Confused? Me too. But then again I don't feel well.....

In sickness and in health

Being ill is boring. Both K and I have not been feeling great the last few days. me after my gastroscopy - I think they left something inside - and K's picked up a cold - which I seem to have got a bit now. It's so boring. Mind you this hasn't stopped either of us working, nor going to the football on Saturday, or to the pub on Tuesday.

Take painkillers and carry on! That's our motto.

Great, this must be the most self-indulgent moany blog post: as if all blogs weren't self indulgent.

What's that coming over the hill?

Not Luigi Glombard, who on Saturday was horribly reminiscent of Andy Campbell. I don't get it. This is his big chance. Chopra out for one game, so Glombard has a chance. What has he got to lose? Not a thing - if he tries. What does he do? He hides. A cross coming his way.. where's Glombard? Hiding behind a defender. His reputation is that he is fast. But it would be hard to tell from that performance - he hardly ran, and when he did, he started his run far too late. And as reported accurately by Will Buckley in the Observer, he made the best through pass of the game - for Norwich, to Earnie: who should have really scored. I think he felt sorry for Neal Alexander. Glombard got taken off at half time, which was the right thing to do. But that is probably his career at Cardiff over: finished before it started.

Of course withy all the exciting news and the piles of money heading into Ninian Park (see Green Eggs and Hammam below) we'll have half a dozen new strikers by the end of January, and Glombard will be back in the French second division. I look forward to watching him next year at Montpelier.

I do not like Green Eggs and Hammam

No I do not like them Sam I am.

So what on earth is going on down at Ninian Park? Hammam out, Ridsdale in. Complicated deals with share options, hedge funds and god knows what else. Rumours are there's a 'consortium'. Rumours are is that its just some investment bankers (cockney rhyming slang, surely?) It's mandaric. It's Sullivan. It's the Chuckle Brothers. Debts will disappear like magic. The stadium will bebuilt City will have funds to buy players in the transfer window. The promised land will come to Cardiff. To me, to you. The River Taff will turn into wine. Why does anyone expect any of us to believe anything?


Supporting Cardiff City is never straightforward - even on the pitch. (Saturday at Norwich a case in point - but that's another story). It gets even less straightforward behind the scenes than out on the pitch. The reality is we've swapped one owner (who sold his last club's ground to god knows who, and the club to some idiot Norwegians) for another - who pushed his club into near bankruptcy. We've swapped Sam "I am" Hammam for Peter "Green Eggs" Ridsdale. I do not like them on a train, I do not like them in the rain. I do not like them with a goat, I do not like them on a boat... I DO NOT LIKE THEM SAM I AM.

Tuesday was three days ago...

Yes I had the less than exciting gastrocopy. Which revealed a hiatus hernia, which I guess explains a few things. As you can see from the diagram this is a fun procedure. "A procedure?" shouted the woman in the next bed. "I'm having a procedure? I thought it was just tests!" Unfortunately it means I have to have some more tests, more drugs, etc. The sedatives were pretty cool though. I remember nothing about a camera going down my throat, which is as it should be. Actually I remember very little about Wednesday at all.

Yesterday felt a bit knocked out still, so took it easy most of the day until the evening when we went to see Marley in his school play - Pride and Prejudice. He was really very good, playing Mr Bingley. Some of the other kids were good too, but Mr Darcy stood out. In the way a an oak tree might stand out on stage, except without the emotional range. Jeeeesus he was bad. The whole audience cracked up when he came out with the line "This is too much" with less emotion than a dalek. Poor boy - got the part based on looks alone. But otherwise the play was great. And I didn't boo Mr Darcy once!


This morning the doorbell rang early. Who is it? I asked, bearing in mind the knock on the door we'd had from the old bill a few days a go telling us that burglars had struck in our street at 7am. But it wasn't a friendly burglar knocking, but a delivery: a mitre football. I have no idea why. Did I enter some competition I can't remember? Why am I being sent a football? Weird. Whatever, a great long ball: superb delivery, but a bit telegraphed.




Tomorrow we are going to watch "top of the league" Cardiff City play at Norwich. Unfortunately "What's that coming over the hill?" - Michael Chopra is suspended, so we may be seeing the great Luigi Glombard. Shame we can't borrow that Earnie bloke Norwich have got. Notice the irony of the shirt colours.

My Tuesday Blog

So what did I end up doing on this exiting Tuesday?

Got up at 7.20pm, five minutes after the alarm went off. Went downstairs to kitchen, Emptied dishwasher. Made Coffee. Made toast, Got bread out of freezer for J's lunch. Ate breakfast - toast, banana, coffee and various bits of medication (Oh you want to know? Ozemaprole, Metformin, Lisinopril and Aspirin). Went to loo. Said goodbye to K and j as they left house. Did some work - mainly finishing off stuff for afternoon meeting that I can't write about given there could be future legal repercussions. Went to meeting - long drive to Willesden where meeting was. Meeting happened. Went well (Can't say more). Started to drive back home worried i wouldn't get home in time to leave to go to my picture framing class at the Mary Ward Centre. At Kentish Town had the brilliant idea of driving to K's work at Euston and leaving car with her. Phoned K, she agreed - happy she didn't have to take bus home. Time to spare popped into paperchase at Euston. Bought a sketchbook. Did some drawings of cats. Walked up road to Queens Square to class. Class was good, even though I realised I'd left print at home I'm working on. Instead mounted small picture of cat for mounting in small test frame. Sanded the frame for preparation. Learned about staining - tried a few out and then decided i preferred natural wood. Took the bus home. Spoke to Marley, who's rehearsing hard for his school play tomorrow night (Pride and Prejudice), and listened to my ipod the rest of the 91 bus journey. Most enjoyed: "holiday" by Green Day. Fitted my mood. Got home at 8.45pm in time to say goodnight to J and eat a tin of beans. And take some more metformin. Then turned on my Mac to listen to the second half: City v Southampton. Thompson scores winner 5 minutes from end...Bloooobirds, We are top of the league, say we are top of the league etc. Then deal with emails. And remember I should do this blog.

Tomorrow won't be so much fun. Tomorrow morning at 8.30am am going to the Whittington for a gastroscopy. Whoopee.

A Walk on the Heath

Heath Pond
Originally uploaded by Gary Socrates.

K and I went for a nice walk today on the heath. It was a lovely mild, sunny autumn day. We started at Southend green and meandered up to Kenwood. We stopped by the pond at Kenwood and watched people feeding the ducks and swans. Then we saw a rat. K was convinced it was not in fact a rat, but a water vole. It looked like a rat to me, but K stuck to her guns and explained it was a not rat but a water vole to a couple with their young son, who were impressed with K's knowledge of wildlife. We wondered then up to Kenwood house, and had a cup of tea in the cafe, and a look at the new shop there which sells interesting stuffed toy animals and things. Including books. Including a guide to the wildlife of Britain, with photos. Including a very clear photo of the 'water vole' - or rather, the common rat - Rattus Norvegicus (as Stranglers fans will remember). We walked back home across the heath, imagining the happy couple we met describing how they'd seen a water vole at Kenwood.

Anyway, here's a photo. And more on my flickr site, including a picture of the 'vole'.

City wipe smug smile off Jordan's ugly face

Went to watch City play at Crystal Palace yesterday with my old man. Which means we sat in the home end with Palace fans. My dad insists always in sitting in the grandstand at every game he goes to, which means I have years of experience in sitting in the wrong end listening to fans of the other team. Palace are the worst, no question. A bunch of moaning wall-eyed idiots with about as much understanding of football as George Bush. Although without the wit and wisdom. Illustrated perfectly by the idiot who reported for the Palace website in the Observer saying the match could have gone either way, and that the referee was terrible because he gave a throw in the wrong way before Cardiff scored their second goal. I hope you watched it again today on the Championship, you fool, and see how wrong you are. Second half City outplayed Palace from start to finish, playing the best football I've seen from them for donkey's years. We were great. Palace were never going to score and if we'd scored four it wouldn't have flattered us. Scimeca had a great game, Chopra is class and many others in the team, especially Parry and McPhail, looked great. We kept the ball moving, to feet, and completely outplayed them. We looked a division apart. Which left smug Palarse Chairman Simon Jordan looking less happy under his new blonde syrup than he'd done before the game, on the big screen, announcing he'd bought Palace's grotty stadium, and now could all Palace fans praise him like he is Jesus arisen, please. Twat.

Of course it won't last. We can't possibly keep up this form, but boy is it fun at the moment.

'Mass blog' to capture UK Tuesday

See this story at the BBC: Mass blog

I wonder if I'll remember. Tuesday could be an exciting day. I might go to the gym. And do some work. And that's about it.

Paul Robinson show

Nothing beats slapstick like this. Top entertainment. I can watch it time and time again. It doesn't get old. I love the comment "That'll have to go down as a Gary Neville own gial, but that doesn't tell the whole story". Class.

I've got a cold

And am therefore feeling sorry for myself, and am an even more grumpy old bastard than usual. Just thought I'd let you know.

Wales worst ever defending

How can you defend a defensive performance like that? Jesus. That Duffy is too slow. That Edwards is too slow. Nyatanga is too naive, and Bale's got a lot to learn too. Robinson, certainly adds no pace. But Toshack screwed up most of all. He picked the formation, then picked the players. And they weren't up to it: He doesn't recognise his squad's limitations enough. Oh well, at least England were poor, that 0-0 helped cheer me up. Shame Macedonia didn't  score, though. But I am worried by Cyprus. My Cypriot mate Barney always reckons that the Cyprus team is full of donkeys. But Ireland made them look more like race horses. Roll on Palace, and back to a normal football life where I watch a bunch of annoying South Londoners singing "Glad all over" as they scrape a dodgy one nil win over City. And I have yo put up with it in the wrong end with my old man. Could be worse - I still have nightmares about the game two years ago where we had two players sent off, including useless Campbell. At least he's gone.

Jones not manager of the month award

Excellent news in that as well as being top of the league, Dave Jones has NOT been named manager of the month, thus beating the well known “Curse of The Manager of The Month Award”. Whilst City fans were celebrating this news, rejoicing in the likelihood that this would contribute towards the Bluebirds’ continuing good fortune, Dave Jones himself was less happy. “I’m a better manager than that Geraint Williams bloke any day” said a down hearted Jones “Now I’ll have to buy my own bloody whisky. What? It’s not whisky any more? It’s coke? Well stuff that for a game of soldiers, Williams can keep it. I’m off down the pub.”

Airdrie Klan Scum

Airdrie fans dress up as KKK to shout racist abuse

Can you believe it? I had enough of the scum at Ninian Park singing "You're just a town full of Pakis" at the Wolves fans last week. But this, this is unbelievable. They ought to kick the fuckers out of the league.

Ganges

Kitty found this description on the net: don't you just love computer translations?

Small héraultaise city of 3341 inhabitants, Ganges, located between mountains and garrigues, is since highest antiquity a bond of privileged exchange.


The first known occupation is that of the carthaginois in Aganticum(place of the treasure). It was a counter to gather ores (iron, lead, money, gold). Later of the Celts, the volques aréconiques ones, set up a oppidum there. It was then a halt on the road of the salt and the ways of transhumance.


Until 1270, the city was under the domination of a lord. Thereafter the city acquired franknesses which it kept until the revolution. With the XIV° century the city was destroyed by the Lorry drivers ordered by Seguin de Badafol, after-effect of the one hundred year old war. Its apogee was with the XVI° century with a great development of the trade and craft industry. During the war of religion the city joined with the Protestants and of undergoing the anger of the king after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. The city took part in the war of Camisards in 1702.


The city invested much thereafter in the breeding of the worms with silk and the city had many hosieries. It was the capital of the silk stockings since 1760. Unfortunately the disease of the worms with silk and the opening of Suez Canal involve a slow decline of these industries. In 1920 the city is active in the clothes industry of bottoms of luxury. Silk is replaced by nylon. Currently only one company resisted. The leisures in the open air are numerous with the practice of the canoe kayak, the climbing, the excursions pedestrian or in VTT. The city has many sports associations and cultural what to occupy any 3 year old public to 77 years and more!

See

The Saint-Pierre Church, rebuilt in 1860, whose organ was offered by the impératrice Eugenie (wife of Napoleon III).
The protesting Temple, inaugurated in 1851, is one of most significant of the area.

The Tower of the Clock, old belfry of XVIIe, contains a bell of 1531

First Game

Everyone remembers their first game. It'?s one of those discussions that crops up reasonably regularly in pubs, on internet message boards or wherever anyone discusses football, Except me. For the life of me I cannot remember the first time I saw City play. I have an early memory of seeing City play away at Charlton Athletic, and I have a strong memory of being impressed with Barry Jones, because my dad had told me that he was Cardiff'?s '?danger man'?. I was disappointed, however, that he looked nothing like the REAL Dangerman I used to see on the TV, Patrick MacGoohan. But anyway, I digress. I remember my son's first City game very well: at Ninian Park on a freezing Boxing Day against Chester City. It was a terrible game which we drew 0-0. Carl Dale hit the bar. Apart from that the game was memorable because of the fact that everyone was clapping their hands and stamping their feet all through the game: to keep themselves warm. My son never recovered from this, and (now 17) takes little or no interest in football, although, if asked "Who do you support?" he will without hesitation say Cardiff City. I think this has some cachet in his London school. I similarly remember my wife's first game: by contrast a New Year's 6-1 thrashing of Exeter City. We even scored Exeter's goal (Andy Jordan, of course). This had the opposite effect. My wife was hooked and we got married.

So Sunday 24th September was an auspicious day for my nine year old step-daughter: her first City game. With Cardiff top of the league and live on Sky, plus a Sunday lunchtime kick off, this seemed like a good day to initiate her into the world of Cardiff City. Even though she supports Arsenal. However, having been taught the Andy Legg Legg Legg song at age three, she happily joined us in her Andy Legg no 3 Modplan shirt. Just in case she got bored she brought her Tamagochi. And her Barbie blackberry (I kid you not) and her camera. And a Polly Pocket. And some Scoobies. (You probably have to be a parent to know what I'm talking about here.)

Off we set in the morning to Liverpool Street Station to meet up with the 1927 Club for our day out at the sea side (I won't say that again: we didn't go near the sea.) Despite the day starting with rain pouring down, by the time we set off the weather had cleared and the sun shone down on us all. At the station ten 1927 club stalwarts met up with cups of coffee and newspapers ready for the journey. Others came down by car, and some came on a later train, but many obviously preferred to watch at home or in the pub, this being a rare televised game.

The train journey through Essex is flat and dull. Essex towns have got some great names: Harold Wood, Billericay, Gidea Park - but mostly they all look as dull as the less excitingly named Romford: famous only for its brewery and Steve 'interesting' Davies. The journey was pleasant enough though, and we soon arrived at Southend Victoria station. The walk from the station at Southend is surprisingly ok. You walk past a park and the local Town Hall. At the Town hall today the Rotary club seemed to be holding some sort of charity event. A crowd of people were in the square looking upwards at the adjacent tall municipal building, waiting for someone to abseil down the building. "Jump!" I shouted. But they ignored me. We turned into the pub for an early lunch and a couple of local kids in Southend shirts said "Good luck. Enjoy the game." This was clearly their number one top boys.

As well as being good at supporting City, the 1927 club are known for being quite good at drinking, too. However, they are a nice bunch to take your kids with: many of them have kids themselves. So my step daughter got to chat to many City fans with pints in their hands as part of the whole Bluebirds experience, discussing the finer points of Dave Jones' tactics.

After lunch we walked to the ground. The crowd outside the Town Hall was still waiting for someone to jump off the building to no avail. It was a nice sunny day and staring pointlessly at a tall building (even for charity) was clearly no way to waste your day. So it was off to Roots Hall to watch the Bluebirds take on the Blues. Which is kind of ironic really as Southend's blue kit is so dark it's almost black, and City were playing in their red away kit. (Which I have to admit I prefer to the blue one this season). Arriving at the ground we could here the chants "We are top of the league, say we are top of the league". Miraculously, unless we lost 5-0 we'd still be top of the league at the end of the game. (I didn't point that out to anyone - it would have been tempting fate). So soon after we arrived the game kicked off. "Bloooooooooooooobirds!" roared the City fans. Despite it being on TV, and a journey of over 200 miles from Cardiff (Coaches leaving at 6am on a Sunday) there seemed to be a pretty decent turn out. City fans were certainly in good voice, and enjoyed winding up the various well known TV presenters and punters who were clearly visible to us on a stanchion to our left. We were behind the goal, with Southend attacking towards us. And in the first few minutes, that's pretty much what they did, coming close once with a header that touched the top of the bar. But after 11 minutes it was City who were ahead. A free kick was awarded on the left hand side, and Purse got between Southend's defenders to bundle the ball home from McPhail's cross.

"That's why we're top of the league" sang the Bluebirds fans behind the goal. With City dominating, lots of new (to me, anyway) songs were being tried out by the Bluebirds fans: "He's big, he's Dutch, we like him very much, Glenn Loovens" "What's that coming over the hill. It's Michael Chopra" standing out.

City came close again as the Southend keeper saved from Chopra, and other chances went close, from Scimeca, Parry and Chopra again. At the other end Southend got a corner. Unsurprisingly, a lot of City fans asked the Southend left back Hammill (not having a good day) who was taking the corner, if his sexual preference was receiving in a rear position (if you know what I mean). More surprisingly the linesman amused everyone by asking him "Well, do you?".

On another a rare break into the Bluebirds half Southend got the ball into Alexander's net, but long after our favourite linesman raised his yellow flag.

Just before half time City got a corner. Parry crossed the ball in, Southend failed to clear, and with a lovely back heal Chopra set up Scimeca who shot low through a group of players into the back of the net for our second goal. "We are top of the league, say we are top of the league" sang the crowd. My step daughter was loving it, joining in with all the joyful singing.

Half time, 2-0 up. One of the nice things about Southend's ground is the fact that their catering is well organised. it is perfectly feasible to go to the toilets and get a cup of tea during half time with time to spare. This isn't because they serve tea in the toilets (although there's an idea) but because they employ loads of people behind the counter of their canteen. So back in the stands behind the goal, we drank our tea while my step daughter drank her fanta. Unfortunately, while getting the teas, however, I seemed to have missed the Southend version of the Hammerettes. Class.

The football restarted, with Southend clearly a bit more motivated to have a go at Cardiff. But also clearly, not very effectively. Going forward they were often offside, and Eastwood, their highly rated centre forward was kept under wraps by Purse and Loovens. It never really felt like City were going to repeat their Plymouth collapse, and City went close again with shots from Scimeca over the bar, and from Gilbert after a great run down the right and interchange with Chopra. Thompson and Chopra were clearly causing Southend's defence problems, and generally Cardiff looked well in control. Behind the goal, City fans were relaxed enough to start having interchanges with players warming up on the touchline. "Willo, Willo, Willo, Willo, Willo Flood Flood Flood" sang the City faithful. My step daughter joined in that one, as she knew the tune from the Andy Legg song. Michael Ricketts moved to Southend this summer, but injury had prevented him appearing before this game, where he started on the bench. "Ricketts for England" chanted the Bluebirds fans, after Ricketts had obliged them by doing the ayatollah wghile warming up on the touchline. Mind you they also sang "You're worse than Spencer Prior", and a couple of other things which was perhaps a little less kind. Prior, now a Southend player, had reported in injured for this game, after having slagged Cardiff fans off publicly in the press, a few days before the game. "It's because I'm not Welsh" he whined. No Prior. It was because you were useless, earning over £5,000 a week, and kept falling over.

With City in charge, the third goal was no surprise. Ledley nearly scored after great interplay with Chopra, but eventually a long ball from left to right found Chopra, who broke forward, crossing the ball into Joe Ledley's path. The ball shot into the back of the net - albeit an own goal from Southend's Simon Francis, as we later found out. Parry was replaced by Kamara and his speed on the right caused the Southend left back more problems (like he needed them).

It could have been more. Southend's keeper saved from Ledley again, and from Thompson. Flood, who had come on for Ledley with a couple of minutes to go narrowly put the ball wide.

With four minutes of added time, Cardiff fans carried on singing right to the end, waving goodbye to the increasing number of Southend supporters who had left, having seen enough.

The final whistle blew, everyone rejoiced. As usual the player came up to the City end to clap - Kerrea Gilbert going right into the crowd, presumably to say hello to friends. "We are top of the league" sang the City. And we are: three points clear with a goal difference of +10. How on earth did that happen?

We left the ground and began the walk back to the station. Almost unbelievably, the rotary club were still there at the town hall - but this time there actually WAS someone abseiling down the side of the building. What a way to spend an afternoon. I'd rather watch Cardiff play Chester on a freezing boxing day.


I asked my step daughter if she enjoyed herself. "When can we go again?" she replied. Great! Another person's life ruined.

Marley and his devil sticks



Marley in the park yesterday showing off his devil stick skills. We took photos and film so he can show the people at Camp America his skills. He wants to go there next summer.

david and orley

david and orley
Originally uploaded by Gary Socrates.

About 30 years after that last photo of me as a toddler on the beach - this is me and Orley protesting outside Camden Town Hall. One of a number of times we did this (year in, year out) because of cuts being proposed to youth and community services. The police behind us were looking after our old CYWU (Community & Youth Workers' Union) banner. Well, they weren't really, of course, but we thanked them anyway. This actually may have been the early 90s - by which point I was working full time for the union, and Orley was chair. This photo was taken by the bloke who was a technician at the old youth office - can't remember his name.

I haven't seen or heard from Orley for many years, since he went home to Barbados I hope he is well and happy there. Maybe I'll do a web search for him.

aged 2

aged 2
Originally uploaded by Gary Socrates.

I found this photograph in a draw while looking for wrapping paper for wrapping a present for my dad's birthday. I reckon this was taken on holiday at Salcombe ( I don't know why I think that- it was more likely in Wales somewhere). I would have been about two years old - my old man would have been 38 - a lot younger than I am now!

Mrs Fred

Did she exist?

Fred talked about his wife occasionally. Mainly he referred to her as "the wife" or even "her indoors". (I think he'd watched too many episodes of Minder). But he never let on too much about her, and never mentioned her name. He would only mention her at all in context of what they had been doing, as in: "Me and the wife were watching Minder last night..." I mentioned this to somebody at Dunhill's in Brentford once and they said no one had ever seen her.

After a while I began to wonder if Fred really did have a wife or whether this was all a fantasy. But looking at Fred's clean, ironed shirt, and thinking about his complete lack of competence and lack of imagination, I guess it was true, and that Mrs Fred really did exist. For the life of me I can't imagine what she was like.

Fred liked a flutter

When I first got the job driving the van with Fred I was warned about Fred's penchant for a bet or two. Or three or four. "He'll have you stopping ay every betting shop all over London." I was told. But Fred had been warned too, and he kept his betting shop stops to a minimum. Sure he'd drop into a bookies at lunch time, but otherwise we'd only stop at a bookies about twice a week. Anyway, one day Fred won big. He'd placed a bet which (from what I could tell) involved Willie Carson winning a lot of races that day - and he did. According to Fred he'd made over £900 -: which was a lot of money in those days when you consider that all I was being paid to drive the van was £60 a week. Anyway, for Fred it was cups of tea all round, and endless praise for days after about the wonders of Willie Carson, and how he never let Fred down. Which of course wasn't true. Carson didn't win every race.

Drawing of Fred

fred drawing
Originally uploaded by Gary Socrates.

This is actually a drawing I did all those years ago of Fred - copying the photo, obviously. I found this when I was looking for the photo of Fred, and I also found some nice drawings I did 20 years ago, mainly of our cat, Caitlin. (You have to understand I can say these are nice drawings because they were done so long ago - it doesn't feel like they were done by me, the person I am now, at all. Well only partly anyway). I've put all these up on my flickr site. Feel free to take a look.

Fred Pratt was real

So here's a photo of him

It occurred to me that anyone reading this stuff may think I am making it all up, so here's a photo of Fred. It was actually taken in Aylesbury the day we went to Fred's brother's house (or not - see episode one below). This was just after we found out Fred's brother didn't live there. I got back into the van and picked up my camera - an old Russian SLR I used to use - and took a picture of Fred through the window.

What the picture shows is I was wrong about the waistcoat (my memory is fading) it was a v-necked sweater. But you can see the suit, the tie and the parka. You can also see a copy of that day's paper sticking out of his inside pocket. Fred would buy the paper to look at the racing tips for the day. But more of that later.

Fred never got too warm

As I say, this all happened over twenty years ago. During the summer driving the transit around London it often got very hot. On many days it would reach close to, or even more than, 90ºf. On these hot sweaty days in central London traffic I would be sitting in the van in a pair of shorts. Often with my t shirt off, and nearly always with the door wide open. Fred, however would be wearing his suit. And his tie, and his waistcoat, and his parka. On really hot days he might take off his parka (I can still see him neatly folding it and placing it on the floor by his feet), but he would never, ever take off his jacket. As I sweltered in heat approaching 100º wearing only a pair of shorts, I asked Fred why he didn't take his jacket off, as it was so hot. "Oh, I once did, Dave. I was with the wife down at the seaside, and she said 'go on Fred, take off your jacket'. So I did, and I caught a chill. I'm not doing that again." It was hard to argue with this logic. And probably pointless. You don't reach the age of 63 having reached the career height of 'van boy' and take advice from some idiot 23 year old in shorts.

Fred Pratt - episode two

One day I was driving through the centre of town with Fred. A lot of our deliveries were in the West End - delivering Dunhill lighters and other stuff to posh west end shops (including Dunhills itself in Jermyn Street). This was in the early eighties, when I was a lot younger, and there was no such thing as congestion charge. The van I usually drove was an old Ford Transit with sliding doors. This was great in the hot weather, as you could leave the whole side open as you drove around town, catching a breeze. Anyway, this particular day I was driving up Wardour Street, when some bloke stepped out into the road in front of the van without looking. I slammed the breaks on, swerved to avoid him, and in traditional van driver style screamed "Why don't you fucking look where you're fucking going, you twat!". I stared at the bloke. He looked exactly like Gene Kelly. I started to drive away "He looks like Gene Kelly" I said to Fred. "He does, Dave" said Fred, "It probably is him. We are in Wardour Street just by Warner Brothers you know." "Naah, don't be ridiculous" I said.

Later that evening I turned on the telly to watch the news. Last item on the news: Gene Kelly in London to make a special appearance on Morecombe and Wise. Well I never, Fred was right.

Fred Pratt

The first in a series of anecdotes. All true.

Many years ago I used to work as a van driver. For a while I had a job delivering cigarettes for Dunhill, from their factory out in Brentford. Working with me was my van boy. My 63 year old van boy, whose name was Fred Pratt (I kid you not). Fred's nickname to all at Dunhill was "Bullet". Fred thaught this had something to do with a resemblance to Steve McQueen, but it was in fact a bit of rhyming slang - "Bullet in the head - Fred". Anyway, one day Fred and I had to drive into the country to Rothmans somewhere near Aylesbury. "Can we stop at my brother's on the way back?" asked Fred. I agreed of course. After a very nice lunch at the Rothman's canteen, Fred directed me to his brother's house, also somewhere near Aylesbury. It was a sunny day, and I sat on the front of the van having a smoke (I smoked in those days) while Fred knocked on the door. A woman came out and Fred talked to her. From where I was I could hear nothing, but Fred returned a few minutes later. "What happened, Fred?" I asked. "He doesn't live there any more" said Fred. Blimey, I thought, fancy your brother moving and not telling you. I mean I knew Fred was a bit of a pratt (as it were), but still. "When did he move?" I asked. "I don't know Dave. That woman says she's lived there for five years and she's never heard of him". I began to feel puzzled. "But... When did you last speak to him?" I asked. "Oh, about 14 years ago" said Fred, matter-of-factly. We headed back to the M40 and drove in silence back to Brentford.

Jemima's first game

On Sunday, despite the game being on Sky we will be toddling off to Southend to see the match. Jemima will be coming - it's her first game. She would much rather be going up the road to the Emirates stadium to see Arsenal (her team, really), but I am not going there until City get promoted (or we draw them again in the cup). Actually, if i could afford (or even get...) a ticket, I'd probably go...

Don't buy this!

thin blue line for sale on ebay

Or any of the other editions you can see there. You can still buy back issues direct from Andrew: contact me and I'll give you his details.

FA CUP 2002 - Cardiff City 2-1 Leeds United.

One of my favourite days out at Ninian Park ever. Hammam got his wish of playing and beating Leeds twice a year, too. Not quite how hw meant it I think, but good stuff all the same. The only one left now from that side at City, is Neil Alexander. You wouldn't have bet on that either.

Santacruzense-Atletico Sorocabana - Tankcsapda-Ébresztő fel

This is the story:
"A BRAZILIAN referee faces suspension after she awarded a goal that
television pictures showed was scored by a ball boy.

The 89th minute goal allowed Santacruzense to snatch a 1-1 draw at home
to Atletico Sorocaba in the Paulista Football Federation Cup on Sunday,
a regional tournament played in the state of Sao Paulo.

Pictures showed that after a Santacruzense player shot narrowly wide,
the boy collected the ball with his feet and took it back on to the
pitch.

However, instead of returning it to the goalkeeper, he subtly tapped it
across the line into the net. "

Unbelievable. Nearly as bad as the ref we had at Preston on Saturday.

Capitulation City
3-0 and we fucked it up
What a shambles. Two own goals as we were cruising to a superb away victory. What a load of bollocks - with no ability to keep calm, City went into a state of major panic and gave away 3 points already won.

Bollocks.
Jones Out!

Got the house...!


We now own this house in Ganges, in France, north of Montpelier, and will be moving there next summer (see K's blog "going to Ganges" linked on the right). Someone suggested to me that we were moving to Bangladesh the other day, but no, this is in France, and Ganges is pronounced "GONJ" (with a soft French accent, but of course.

When we go we hope to eventually make a living using some of my outdated arts and crafts skills, some of which I'll update before going - and some - to be fair - aren't out of date at all.

And I'll have to improve my French, n'est-ce pas?

Ledley takes corner

Ledley takes corner
Originally uploaded by Gary Socrates.

Ledley takes a corner near the end of the Preston game
Still top of the league despite losing. Preston tactically outplayed City in the second half. Agyemang came on and McNaughton couldn't cope. Jones didn't change anything for ages, even though it was obvious we were being outplayed, and players were getting tired. Ledley moved to left back and was mssed in the midfield, as Scimeca and McPhail's passes went more and more astray.

This was John 'Statto' Heyda's first ever City game (after supporting from afar - Ohio - for many years) so we were bound to lose. Even more ironically statto missed our goal. I won the bet with our FA representative about what he would look like thouh. He really does look like a tall academic with glasses (and a slight stoop).

But while i can't stand the "Ring of Fire" chant (it doesn't help that it's flat) I did like the "We all want a team of Joe Ledleys" song.

Wishmaster - The Misheard Lyrics

I am the bloke looking at his watch. A work of near genius.

Watch who you buy your morning paper from

A Mafiosi mobster was apparently arrested in London yesterday. However, this story brought to light the following: "Last May, one of Italy's most wanted men, Francesco Tonicello was arrested at Vauxhall Tube station, where he worked as a news seller."

You never can tell. That innocent old geezer you buy your Standard from could be an experienced assassin on the run. Tell you what, though, I wouldn't ask.

Valley Rams to change hats?

This story from the bbc: Valley anger at burberry closure might solve the riddle of why burberry's been so popular with the rams in the past - I never knew there was a factory in the Rhondda until now. I can here them singing: "When the hats come down from the Rhondda.... I'll be there, I'll be there, with my little burberry hat I'll be there...".

But no more... Who will win approval next? Buggered if I know, Laura Ashley and M&S have also closed their clothing factories in Wales in recent years. Anyway, here's a suggestion:



Available from me for a very reasonable price.

Brazil v Wales at White Hart Lane


K and I met up with the 1927 club to watch the Wales game. This was my first live Wales game since I saw Wales lose to England at Wembley in (I think) 1972 with Alan Clarke scoring and my friend Jimmy Connolly being threatened for being Irish. Clearly a junior IRA member from Hendon - we were 13 for christ's sake. Actually Jim was a great footballer and probably could have made it as a pro if he hadn't broken his leg a couple of times - the first when our PE teacher, Mr Borrett was demonstrating 'how to tackle'. "Come on Jimmy, come at me" he said. Jimmy beat him all ends up so Norman Borrett chopped him down, breaking his leg. I understand Jim went on to become a successful Hendon hairdresser.

Anyway, it was a fun occasion, but we had to leave after an hour as our babysitting fell apart. Marley was looking after Jemima, and for some reason this fell apart, so we had to leave the ground and pay £25 for a cab to Holloway. What a rip. On the other hand Tottenham is such an awful dump it's worth it. As soon as we left, Brazil scored. Sorry everyone.

Below are a couple of awful pictures I took with my phone. It was unbelievable the amount of people taking photos of Ronaldhino at corners, with all sorts of cameras, and flashes everywhere - some people clicking and booing simultaneously.

I should add that I loved the Ginger Monster's new song. Cheers Matt. "What's that coming over the hill..."

Jolly Good. If you like this sort of thing.

The SACSS blog

And here's some landscapes:

Pictures

Here are some pictures I painted while I was on holiday:

I CAN SEE MY BLOG

I did something to my proxy settings and I now can see it using Safari - but NOT with the new browser I just downloaded - Flock - which seems to be having a problem. Don't know why. I will try with Explorer and Camino.... Yes, worked fine with them - clearly a Flock problem.

Exciting stuff eh? 

Cardiff City v Birmingham City - Ledley Goal

This film is sort of genius in its evocativeness.

Top of the league.

Monkey v Zebra

It's monkey v zebra. What else do you need to know? A film by me and Jemima. Multi lingual and all.

Seal and Crocodile show off their new routine

Yes, it's the seal and the crocodile and their exciting new routine! The audience reacts appropriately.

I can't see my blog

Well I can using a proxy server, but not directly from my computer. I am told this is because blueyonder have got a dodgy cached DNS. There you go. Maybe I'll be able to see it tomorrow. Bloody annoying though.

Ships, Collioure

Ships, Collioure
Originally uploaded by Gary Socrates.

Had a luverly holiday.....
With the family in the south of France, eating too many pain au chocolat, drinking too much wine, sitting in the sun, swimming in the sea, a river, the pool. Visiting places, looking at art, and really relaxing lots of photos on my flickr website (see link on right). THis is one of them.

All The Countries I've been to. So far.



create your own visited countries map

Jump, you bugger, jump

A large young man jumps into the Herault just north of Ganges. Despite K's fears, he does resurface. This is a beautiful place to swim, but Laroque has the advantage of the ice cream. The Viz is apparantly cleaner and nicer - but colder.

BBC Wales

I listened to City's 1-1 home draw with West Brom tonight with my old man, on BBC Wales (via Sky). It was dreadful: I usually listen (if at all) to the internet commentary that Richard Shepherd does, which is perfectly ok: I get a decent picture of the game, and an idea of what's going on. With BBC Wales, the commentator started off by saying City were playing from left to right... But what does that mean? He didn't tell me where he was sitting. Were City attacking the Canton End or the Grangetown End? How could I know? He kept rambling on about completely irrelevant trash, like a TV commentator: yes tht's what it was like, TV commentary on the radio - with the commentator assuming you can see what's going on. When Scimeca scored the equaliser he was rambling on about something completely uninteresting (the make of the ref's shoelaces or something), and I hadn't even realsised we had the ball. I had to explain to my old man that we had scored. Terrible.

Things not to say....

In a meeting today with a client, a mental health charity, I suggest one way forward as the "sane way to go". Not one of my finest moments. From that moment on though I had to prevent myself from using the words "mad", "loony", "bonkers", "nuts", "crazy" etc which seemed to want to permeate every sentence. Why was my subconscience trying to do this to me? 

Another Italian Football Scandal

Udinese's new kit. Not my joke - thanks to young Gabb. Mind you K says she likes it, but that they all look fat. Who's got their money on Udinese this season then?

Comments

People can make comments on your blog. I suppose this is ok, but not something I'd really considered. Given the main subject matter of this blog is Cardiff City and stuff, the only comments I'd expected were on the lines of "I preferred our 1982 kit" or "You must be mad if you think we'll sign Koumas" or perhaps the odd insult from someone from Swansea. I hadn't figured on christian Americans. Maybe I need to put this somewhere on the page: this blog is not suitable for christian Americans.
Or Jacks.

City Win!

An opening day win for city at Barnsley. Unfortunately decided not to go, as the day out would be over 134 hours. Probably a good thing - we would have lost if I had gone. Am not going on Tuesday to Ninian park for the West Brom game, nor next Saturday for Coventry, as we're off to France for a couple of days to do the deed on the house.

Jerome getting sent off at Birmingham was a shocker, and although Earnie was man of the match for Norwich he didn't score. Why do I care about any of this? It might just have something to do with betting, is all I'll say. Mind you equal top of the table of the predictions league after one game. I will do well to match last year's second place. Really, I came second. Unfortunately this wins you nothing. In previous years I might have won Matty Brazier's sock or something, but now coming second is nothing. It's win or bust.

Division 2 (IOM) Preview

1. Norwich

With Robert Earnshaw being managed properly Norwich will regain the Division 2 superiority the achieved a couple of years ago. Peter Thorne may even play half a game.

2. Birmingham

Another ex-Cardiff striker(Jerome) will knock loads of goals in and Birmingham will finish a couple of points behind Norwich.

3. Leeds

Will reach the play offs again but won't go up. How we will laugh.

4. Derby

With a new manager and new signings will have a good season and reach the play-offs. Destined not to go up, as Billy Davies seems certain to never lead his team to a play off victory.

5. Southampton

Have a good enough team to get this high, Burley is a decent manager, and will win the play-offs.


6. Hull City

An interesting outside bet, with new manager, new players. Mind you, just as likely to be relegated.


7. Sunderland

All that money won't buy them more than 7th place. My spellchecker tried to replace Sunderland with Cinderella - which is all you really need to know.

8. Coventry City

Annoyingly for me (so my mate Ian can taunt me) will finish above Cardiff

9. Cardiff City

A mundane season is probable. But livened up by finishing one place above...

10. WBA

...Who recover to tenth place after a really shit start results in the sacking of Robson after Christmas.

City Pay £200,000 for a Hobbit

In a shock move which will send shockwaves through the shocked hobbits of wherever they come from (look I hated Lord of the bloody Rings, so how would I know?) a hobbit has signed for Cardiff City. Willo Flood (I kid you not) formerly (it is alleged) of Manchester City (But we know he's from Hobbit land - look I've told you I don't know what it's called, ok?) has signed for Cardiff in a deal worth £200,000. Apparantly that's what the ring is worth. I preferred The Lion the Witch and Wardrobe anyway, until all that Christianity nonsense got involved. And no, I don't like bloody Harry Potter either. And no, as far as I know City haven't signed Ron Weasley. Nor Jason Koumas.

Mel Gibson is an anti-semitic fucker who I hope has a really shit 'rest-of-life'.

To add to his various pronouncements in the past, and his fanti-semitic film " The Passion of Christ", Gibson has been prosecuted for a drunk driving incident which occurred this year on California's Pacific Coast Highway, with a blood alcohol level of 0.12, well over the legal limit. According to a police report filed by deputy James Mee, Gibson made anti-Semitic remarks, demanded to know if the arresting officer was a Jew, and threatened to "get even." Also according to the report, to a female deputy the actor remarked, "What do you think you're looking at, sugar tits?"

Now he wants to m ake amends before his Hollywood career goes completely down the tubes.

He's going into rehab to learn how to not be an anti-semite? He has to take responsibility for his actions "because he's a public figure"? Go screw yourself Gibson, burn in the hell that you believe in, and take all those fundamentalistic right wing nutters in the US with you.

Not that I have extreme views on this mind.

Religion is the root of all evil.

"The Royal Game of Ur" - play this at the British Museum website - it's fun:

The Royal Game of Ur

Be warned though - it's impossible to beat the bastard computer.

McNaught and McPhail.

I think we should sign McCrap and McForgetitwevegotnochance, too.

Something tells me it's going to be a McLong season.