Back Where My Story Began...

At the weekend, I celebrated my 34^th birthday. I had a number of the boys from my core friendship group, their partners and kids round to our new home for a BBQ in the back garden. My son was delighted to have a host of new playmates to keep him occupied running in and out of the paddling pool, up and down the slide, and in and out of the play room. My partner and I were more than happy to play host. It was a great day and amazing to catch up with the group. Since becoming a father, finding the time and money to have a get together with the boys has been harder to do. My priorities have changed somewhat. When you live on a budget each month, justifying a drinking session with the boys when bills need to be paid becomes problematic. It seems like I only get to see them for big occasions. But I guess that is life now. You do not need to see people every weekend for them to still be in your life.

For the most part, these guys have been in my life for a good ten years or more, some even longer. Our group has evolved in that time, with the main core having gone to school together, and others like me being friends with people within the group and joining the group along the way. We have seen break ups, new partners, weddings, babies, house moves, relocations abroad and many nights out.

But as I turn the grand old age of 34, I am back living in my parents’ house where I grew up, the house which most of my memories are from. The house, where we as a family have celebrated and mourned, where I have loved and lost. The house where I sat with my Grandmother during her final weeks, watching the fox cubs play in the garden. The dining room where I would listen to my Granddad sing aloud, as he listened to the Rat Pack whilst having a beer after his Christmas dinner. The kitchen with the fridge I would raid, as soon as my Mum had filled it with the weekly shop. The house where my Dad would give me piggy backs up the stairs as a kid. The house with the small box bedroom, where I would spend hours questioning everything, developing my own views and ideas about what I would do with my life.

I am back where my story began. Back home.

I am extremely grateful to now raising my own family there. My young son at two years old, exploring the world around him, chasing the squirrels and pigeons from the garden, my amazing partner who is always there for us, growing our unborn second baby, who will be ready to make their grand entrance in August. My parents, having relocated to a quieter life a few hours outside of London, have been amazing to give me a chance to save some money so that we can one day afford our ‘Forever Home’. We currently, as a family have the chance to make our own memories. I hope that my birthday BBQ in my back garden is the first of many great ones in my old house.

With moving back to where I was raised, I have been thinking more about old friends and the good times. We were a good bunch of boys united by our love of football and as we got older, beer, parties and girls. It is easy to reflect and remember stories about our childhood and teenage years.

I had many birthday parties in that same back garden. The best of which has to be in the summer of 1999, for my 16^th Birthday. It came at the end of a week where our group had been sitting our GCSE exams, and only a few weeks after a local car crash which had resulted in the loss of five young lives, including a really popular boy from the year above. There were easily over 50 teenagers in that garden, with a DJ, loud music and lots of drinking, dancing and laughing. We were enjoying being young. That night we really did party like it was 1999! Our neighbours can’t have approved, as the police were called and we were told to turn the volume down. I was lucky to have various friendship groups in attendance that night. Friends from Primary school, from Secondary school, from the local area, all came together to have a great time. A night that will live with me forever.

My oldest friends were from Primary school. All local to one area, the majority of our Fathers knew each other. We were allowed to drink in the local pub from the age of 15, as the owners placed the responsibilities of our actions to our Dads. The day we collected our GCSE results, we were in the Crossways pub, in South East London, comparing our results. By the day I was able to buy my first legal pint of lager, I had been a regular in the pub for around three years. That can be said for all of us in that group which had evolved from the local Primary school. Every Thursday for Karaoke without fail. By the end, the youngsters had taken over the pub on a Thursday, as it was so busy with under age drinkers!

As I have said in a previous blog post, I have time for anyone who has time for me. Years may pass, but the memories, love and respect will always be there. The group from my earliest memories will always be linked to my first home, and have played a huge part in my life. Over the years, I have lost regular contact with many of those boys. However, the bond is always there and in my opinion always will be. I had a great lunch catch up with one of my best friends from Primary school days today. We laughed as remembered various stories, and how we discussed the people we once knew around that time. For the most part, everyone in that group has found a form of happiness and relative success. It is good to know we have done well. Those days in the Crossways Pub must have served us well.

#KeepTheBan

As a young boy, I had a real passion for wildlife. Big cats were my real first love, with Lions and Tigers being joint my favourites. Any shopping trip usually resulted in me convincing my parents to buy me a new National Geographic wildlife video, which I would watch repeatedly from the moment we got home. They would usually be videos about carnivores such all big cats, bears, wolves, hyenas, or great African animals like elephants, rhinos, and hippos.  

I still remember the first time they took me to a zoo, where I witness the big cats close up. The excitement was intense and the thrill of only being a short distance away from a Tiger was electric. The closest I had been to a wild animal previous to this trip was when my cousin and I discovered a hedgehog on his lawn earlier that summer.

I am often reminded when I discuss current work issues with my parents, that after that trip to London zoo as a 5year old boy, I told my parents that when I grew up, I wanted to either be a zoo keeper in London, or move to Kenya and become a safari park warden. I am sure the five year old me, would have words with the thirty three year old me for my career choices

.

One animal that I didn’t need to go to the zoo to see was the Fox.

I could keep a careful eye into my back garden and have the chance to see them, and that delighted me. On my list of favourite animals as a kid, they were easily number three. I loved them. And still do to this day. (They are number one now!).

Foxes intrigued me more than any other animal. Why did they live in my garden under the shed? How did they get food? Could I feed them? Why did they have a tail like that? Why do they make such odd noises? Did they open everyone’s rubbish bags on purpose? Why does my daddy dislike them? Can I go inside their den?

To say I drove my mum crazy with my fascination was to say the least. I would write stories where the fox would be the main character, I would draw pictures for all of my relatives of the garden foxes, and when I was seven on a family holiday to Cyprus – I was shocked to see I could purchase a fox tail key ring. I had to have it. As an adult now, I find that hard to stomach. But as a young boy, I really wanted that key ring with the full size, soft bushy tail. My parents too had an initial problem with it. They refused to buy it. Instead they used it to bribe me to learn to swim. Seeing as I was heavily reliant on floatation bands, it didn’t seem possible that I would do it. But the agreement was that if I could swim unaided by the end of the holiday, they would give in and buy it for me. Needless to say, I learnt to swim pretty fast.

It certainly didn’t appear to me as young boy, that the fox would have been killed to produce that keychain. I think my attitude would have certainly been different had I have known the truth. I hated poachers more than anything, after those hours of watching the National Geographic videos, so to think that my fox tail was from an animal that had been killed for fur, turns my stomach somewhat looking back. But I was young and no doubt didn’t even question it.

After that holiday, I was even madder for Foxes. One evening I was awoken by the screaming barks of a fight between two rival groups of foxes which occurred in the street outside my window. It woke my mum too and she sat with me at 3am watching what was unfolding below us. The following day I told everyone about what I had witnessed. Seven or more foxes right outside my windows under the streetlights.

Every car journey my parents would get me to be on fox watch, looking out for them as we drove by. Once home, I would ask my parents for a torch, and shine into the garden hoping to catch a glimpse. That winter we had thick snow, and I saw a plump vixen sitting upright in the snow, looking in my direction. I remember thinking it should have been a picture for a Christmas card, such was the wintery scene. 

I would watch (along with my National Geographic videos) Disney’s The Fox and The Hound endlessly, and I loved it. However I didn’t really know what it was about. I couldn’t see why Copper and Todd couldn’t be friends. The Hound part of the film was not yet registering in my thinking.

My love for foxes was cemented in the summer of 1997, when my grandmother was living with us. She had been ill for a long time, and I would spend my afternoons after school sitting with her in her room at the back of our house, looking out onto the garden. That summer, our garden foxes had a number of cubs. My grandmother and I would sit and watch, as they played in the late afternoon/early evening sunshine. Watching those cubs was her escape from her pain. As we enjoyed it so much, one day my mum brought home dog food and a bowl for me to be able to feed the cubs. 

Each night I would try to lure the family closer to the window to be able to give my grandmother and me a closer sight of their playful nature. At the time, I took what was happening for granted. I was unaware that those fun moments watching the cubs, would become memories that would stay with me forever. 

Sadly my grandmother quickly deteriorated and passed away mid summer. Those cubs gave me and my grandmother moments that only we shared. It was special and always will be. Every spring/summer I look out for cubs in my parent’s garden, and if I see any, I like to think my grandmother is watching them with me.

I think I took a lot of her views as I grew up. She loved all animals and hated the mistreatment and neglect that occurs. She regularly supported animal shelters and a Donkey sanctuary, something my cousins still do in her name to this day. My mother too was very sensitive towards animal cruelty. One of the reasons we didn’t get a dog when my sister and I were children, was due to the hours when nobody was in the house, and my mum not wanting the dog to be lonely.

As I grew up, I realised that the Hound was out to kill the fox in the Disney film. But why did that annoy me? All I knew was that posh people who lived in the country side went on fox hunts, wearing their red outfits, riding beautiful horses and a huge number of hounds in tow. 
I hadn’t actually met a posh person at that time in my life. The country side wasn’t a place on my doorstep and a fox hunt was something from another world that only rich people could do. 

I didn’t know why the posh people did it, and but I knew I didn’t like it. Just because it was something that the elite had done for hundreds of years and called it sport, and in my opinion it didn’t make it right.  I think like the poachers killing animals for skins and horns throughout the world, it upset me because the animal couldn’t fight back. It wasn’t fair. My foxtail keepsake from my first overseas holiday was soon removed from my memory box and thrown away. Sport was football, sport was tennis, and sport was the Olympics. Killing something so you can feel the ‘rush’ during the chase was not sport in my views.

In 2004 the government passed The Hunting Act, making it illegal to hunt wild mammals with dogs. However, it is again in the minds of the public, as there have been talks on whether to repeal this act. A huge 83% of the population stated in December 15, that they should not make hunting legal again. (source Ipsos Mori). It is reassuring to know 8/10 Brits are anti-hunting. In my opinion it is barbaric, out of date, and deserves no place in modern society. It is nothing more than animal cruelty and needs to stop.

Yet, despite the high score in the research for people being anti-hunting, the fox is still a divisive animal in inner cities as it is in the country side.  As I stated earlier, my dad can’t stand them, whereas I love them. He hates the noise, he hates the litter they spread, and more than all he hates when they mess on his lawn.

Hunt Groups can partake in mock hunts, which should not involved any killing, but despite the hunting ban, real hunts still occur up and down the country, without regard for the countryside, the wildlife or the landscape. Horses trample over ground and property, and this weekend saw a video go viral of a large pack of hounds attacking and ripping into a defenceless fox on someone’s private property - a drive way.

Brave groups of hunt saboteurs try to prevent the illegal hunts, and many are attacked for doing so. Only recently a video of a sab being attacked was shared on social media. It is simply unacceptable for these people who believe they are above the law to go on this way.

My opinion is simple. If you are reading this and you are pro fox hunting. Pro any type of hunting for sport, then you are scum. If you are taking part in a fox hunt, then may you fall from your saddle and you break many bones. I do not share anything in common with someone who would want to kill something for fun. There are many videos online of hunts up and down the country, shared by sabs and those who do what they can to rescue foxes. To me, the notion that hunts provide pest control is easy to dismiss, especially when ‘fox farms’ have been found, with the pure rationale to keep foxes to then be hunted by the pack. Videos of fox cubs being thrown to hounds to be ripped apart are hard to ignore and stomach churning to those who have any affinity with wildlife.

The fox to me is a link to my Grandmother. Whenever I see one, it reminds me of her. Seeing a fox is also something I love about being in London. Most nights you are likely to see or hear a fox. It is like there is a secret world unfolding outside your windows, where the fox owns the night. 

My grandmother would have loved the organisation www.facebook.com/The-Fox-Project if she had been around today. A group of people who go out of their way to help and rehabilitate injured or orphaned foxes. Please check them out and show your support if you can. With cub season on the horizon they need all the help they can.

The social media hashtag #KeepTheBan is used by all the people who are against hunting with animals. There are some great organisations doing amazing work to fight for Foxes and other wildlife. One of these groups that I follow is:

www.facebook.com/KeepTheFoxHuntBan

If you are interested in finding out more about those opposed to fox hunting and maybe taking part, there are two useful links below.

https://www.league.org.uk/fox-hunting

http://www.huntsabs.org.uk/

Another great group for Fox lovers on facebook is Foxy Fans United - the closed group encourages it's members to share their love of the animal, and to come together in discussing fox experiences and interactions. There are lots of great photographs and videos, which my Grandmother would have loved without doubt.

To conclude I will again tell you about the foxes in my parent's garden. Although they do not know it, they have became a firm favourite with my friends and followers on social media. As my garden foxes were the inspiration for my own hashtag #FindFoxy.

#FindFoxy is a “Where’s Wally (Waldo in the US)” for urban foxes. One day, when smoking on my back step, I looked at the garden shed and along the rooftop up popped two ears and a handsome face of an adult fox. I took a few steps forward and again the fox popped its head up to see what I was doing. I took my camera phone out of my pocket and took a picture of the fox on the shed. Now, whenever I see a fox, I try to wait til he is almost hiding, and try to take a picture of him, where it is not overly visible. Why not see if you can capture a fox in a “Where’s Wally” moment, and share on Instagram or twitter with the hashtag #findfoxy. Here are two examples - See if you can spot him?

#KeepTheBan

#FindFoxy

Songs to hear again before I die...

Music does something to people, like no other form of entertainment can do. It captivates and floods your senses with memories and emotions. 

Although universal, it can be extremely personal, and despite being written for a completely different reason, we can take the song, interpret it and make it our own. We all have our favourite songs, favourite bands/artists, and the reason we like them is down to our own unique tastes.

I am one of the few people who is still rocking an iPod, and unlike other iPods I have owned in the past, my current one I have had for ten years and seems to be indestructible. It is my friend on my commute to work, my company when I am out running, and my entertainment on long drives around the country. Seeing as it is now ten years old,  I decided it needed a freshen up!

With that thought I decided to clean up my iTunes account, and remove the songs that I simply do not listen to anymore. I have been slowly building my iTunes library for the last ten years, and my music collection is extremely varied. There are songs which have had zero plays in all the years  that they have been in my account, probably due to me not be interested in them from the start.. So they went to the recycle bin.

The process was therapeutic, and as I played the various of tracks from the various genres that I had created over the years – Pop, RnB, Garage, Hip Hop/Rap, Oldies, Rock, Indie,  Classic Dance, Opera, WWE Theme Tunes etc, I found myself reminiscing on who that song reminds me of, or  where I first heard certain songs, or what I was going through in my life when that song came along.

There were literally hundreds and hundreds of songs on my iTunes which mean the world to me. Some of  them for the good times, and some for the sad times. 

Songs can instantly move you, and change your mind state. 

"Your Not Alone" by Olive, automatically brings me back to the period when my grandmother sadly lost her battle with cancer among other illnesses in our house after spending her final few months living with us when I was fourteen. She fought so courageously, and this song was so prominent on the radio at that time. The lyric of waiting til the end of time for someone, impacted me as I feel I will see her again at the end of my time.

"Hit Em Up" by 2Pac, reminds me of sitting on a wall next to my high school bus stop in 1997, being introduced to gangster rap by my friend Phil, who educated me on the East Coast/West Coast beef, a school friend who would only a year or two later be killed in a tragic car accident. Someone who I looked up to as a teenager, who never knew what those bus stop music lessons would go on to mean to me. He was the first experience of death of a young person that I would experience. It shocked the local community to the core, and I often find myself thinking about Phil to this day. He was a great kid and certainly gone too soon.

"You Got It" by Roy Orbison, takes me back to my childhood, and time spent in my parent's bedroom, my mum singing it to me as I helped her change the bed sheets (it’s weird what you recall after all the years!). This song is the song which reminds me of my Mum.

"Suspicious Mind"s by Elvis – automatically brings my Dad to mind, as he had sung that song at every karaoke event we ever attended throughout my childhood and teenage years. He may sing it out of time, and not in the same way that The King did, but its my Dads song, and I hope to hear him sing it in the months and years to come.

"Paradise" by Coldplay, taking me back to a specific day spent in Koh Phi Phi in Thailand in 2012, in which we went onto a longboat out to Maya Bay, the scene for Leonard Di Caprio film – The Beach. It was stunning and one of the happiest days of my life. It was that day that I made a specific decision about my return to the UK after living in the UAE for two years, and gave serious though about the type of people I wanted in my life, and more importantly – those I didn’t. This was going to be a new start for me and this song is symbolic of that day for me.

I therefore decided to go about creating a playlist of all of the songs which mean something to me; a playlist of songs that I simply HAVE to listen to again and again as the years roll on.

The playlist is entitled: ‘Songs to hear again before I die’. Here is a list in no particular order of just a few of of them:

1.       Everywhere – Fleetwood Mac

2.       My Destiny – Lionel Richie

3.       Only You – 112, Puff Daddy, Notorious BIG & Mase

4.       I Cant Make You Love Me – Tank

5.       You Got It – Roy Orbison

6.       Suspicious Minds – Elvis

7.       Hit Em Up – 2Pac

8.       Paradise – Coldplay

9.       My Girl – The Temptations

10.   Stand By Me – Ben E King

11.   Jump Around – House of Pain

12.   Mirros – Justin Timerlake

13.   Hero – Foo Fighters

14.   Colourblind – Counting Crows

15.   Baby I Love Your Way – Big Mountain

16.   In The End – Linkin Park

17.   World In Motion – New Order

18.   Hypnotise – Notorious BIG

19.   Wonderwall – Oasis

20.   You’ve Got It – Simply Red

21.   How Will I Know – Whitney Houston

22.   Sacrifice – Elton John

23.   Days of our Lives – Queen

24.   Time to Say Good bye – Andrea Bocelli & Sarah Brightman

25.   Candy – Paolo Nutini

26.   My Immortal – Evanesence

27.   It’s the Way – Future Underground Nation

28.   A Million Love Song – Take That

29.   Pompei – Bastille

30.   Songbird – Eva Cassidy

31.   Vibe – R.Kelly

32.   Let Her Go – Passenger

33.   I See Fire – Ed Sheeran

34.   Smooth Criminal – Michael Jackson

35.   Other Side – Red Hot Chilli Peppers

 Have you made a similar track list of songs you have to hear again before your days are over?

In a world full of City's and Uniteds...

I stated in a previous blog entry hat it was summer 1990, when I was seven years old, when I first fell in love. I fell in love with a game. I fell in love with football. There were two players in particular who held my affection that summer. Star striker Gary Lineker and the man the rest of the nation fell in love with – the supremely talented - Paul Gascoigne.

Gascoigne and Lineker celebrating the '91 Semi Final win.

Unbeknown to me at the time, both players played for the same English club side – Tottenham Hotspur. Upon finding out this information, my seven year old mind was made up, I was to become a fan of Tottenham Hotspur Football club. 

In a world full of City's, Uniteds and Rover's... There is only one Hotspur..

Living in South London, I should have been a fan of Millwall, Charlton or Crystal Palace, but Lineker and Gascoigne were at Tottenham, and therefore it was in North London that my allegiance belonged, and White Hart Lane where I wanted to go more than anything.

This season marks the last year that Tottenham will play at White Hart Lane, before we leave for a year to allow for our futuristic new stadium to be built on the site of the existing stadium. Although the prospect of moving into our new stadium is extremley exciting, it is also tinged with some sadness. It made me think of my first experience of the place we have called home. 

In December 1990, my Dad took me to my first game at White Hart Lane. Despite not being a  football fan himself, he had secretly managed to obtain two tickets to the upcoming Tottenham vs Sunderland match. I remember the day that my mum collected me from school, and during the walk home, told me that my Dad had bought us tickets. I don’t think I had ever been so excited. 

I was up early, and we headed to Tottenham in the car. Dad parked around the corner from the ground, we were there early and we headed towards the stadium. I remember the feeling I felt as I saw White Hart Lane for the first time, and remember being scared of the turnstile as I handed my ticket across. Then that was it. I was in, and was part of it. I was in White Hart Lane and ready to cheer as loud as I could.  As we took our seats in the second row of the East Stand Upper, I couldn’t believe it. There was Gary Lineker, Paul Gascoigne and the rest of the first team warming up below us on the pitch. 

I still remember the sound of the crowd, the feel of the ticket in my hands, the smell of the stadium, and the buzz that I received from being among the 30,000 crowd. The game didn’t start well; we were two down within twenty minutes or so. We scored two in the second half, but going into the last minute we were losing 2-3, until my idol Gary Lineker popped up with a last gasp equalizer. The fans around us went crazy and I was picked up by someone who wasn’t my dad in the euphoria. Quickly back down to my feet, Dad decided it would be time to go to beat the crowd. 3-3! What a game! I was hooked. 

 

Despite finishing mid table in the league, Tottenham ended that season with a trophy, after a great run in the FA Cup, beating Arsenal at Wembley en route to the final. Both of my heroes scored in that semi-final, Gazza with one of the best free kicks in the history of Wembley, and Lineker netting twice. The final against Nottingham Forest will be remembered for Gazza being stretchered off, but for me it was much more than that. It was the launch of our new Umbro kit, which led to ridicule for the long shorts, (which would soon become the norm) which would be the first Tottenham kit I would own, and it would be for our courageous captain Gary Mabbutt lifting the trophy, next to the late Princess Diana in her green jacket. 

Gary Mabbutt lifts the FA Cup infront of The Royal Box.

I had been spoilt with my first year of being a Spurs fan. But things were going to change. Little did I know that with I wouldn’t get close to the elation of that season again until some twenty five years on. Within twelve months of the FA Cup glory, we had finished 15^th, Gazza had been out injured all year, and Lineker was on his way to finish his career in Japan. Soon Gascoigne signed for Lazio, and my heroes were no longer Spurs players.

Despite seeing my heroes depart, I was hooked on Spurs, and in the coming years Teddy Sheringham and Darren Anderton quickly became firm favourites of mine. Those years that followed the ’91 success were tough for Spurs fans. The new Premier League era had arrived, and Sky dishes became more popular, which meant I was able to watch more live football than ever before. But there wasn’t too much to get excited about. I occasionally got to go to White Hart Lane, usually during pre season where tickets were cheaper.

"Taxi for Maicon" - Gareth Bale destroying the Inter Milan full back

Since then Spurs fans had to endure years of disappointment, aside from two League cup victories, there hasn’t been too much to cheer. There was a brief resurgence under Harry Redknapp, who led us into the Champions League with a great team and style of football, Gareth Bale emerged as a superstar, and rose to prominence throughout Europe in a team that included stars such as Ledley King, Luka Modric and Rafael Van der Vaart.

It is not until last season, where Spurs had a run at the title before falling away in the last few weeks of the season, that fans felt a huge connection with the club in all aspects. With the new season in its infancy, Tottenham fans are once again optimistic, we are a young exciting team, who are working for eachother and it seems all involved including fans are pulling in the same direction. The young generation have new heroes, with Dele Alli and Harry Kane being at the forefront.

Alli and Kane - the heroes to a new generation of fans.

My dad and I didn’t attend many matches together over the years, and if we did go to watch football, we would go to the sporadic game or two at The Den or The Valley, due to the local proximity. I think we only went to one more match together at White Hart Lane in the intervening years, which was David Howells’ testimonial in 1997. 

I doubt that I will get another chance to attend a match at White Hart Lane with my Dad, with this year being the final year at the ground and at a reduced capacity, and Dad’s lack of interest in the game. He only went to games in order to put a smile on my face as a child. As I grew older I was able to go on my own or with friends, so there wasn't a need for him to attend with me. It is a shame, but he still went out of his way to ensure that I experienced something that i loved. Even if he wasn't particularly interested himself. He enabled me to have that special day, which has lead to a lifetime memory. I will certainly do that for my son. As we prepare to say goodbye to White Hart Lane, I will do so thanking my dad for allowing me to be in that number!

With the new season, we are delighting to see Spurs returning to the Champions League, and returning to Wembley. For a minimum of three games, we will play at Wembley against elite level opposition. We can see the new and improved White Hart Lane starting to be built, and its completion is coming in the next few seasons, I am optimistic that I will be able to provide my son with the excitement and anticipation of taking him to see Spurs in action as he gets older.