#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

Like Something From A War Film...

At this time of year, I always look forward to the change in seasons.

As much as I love summertime, I am not sad about saying goodbye to the longer warmer days.

Instead I like the cold dark nights, bringing out the winter wardrobe and hearing the crunch of the fallen autumn leaves underfoot. For this is the time of year that we know that Christmas is just around the corner; bringing with it, the anticipation for the annual Christmas advertising campaigns to start on TV, the classic Christmas songs to play on the radio, for Ant & Dec to bring back ‘I’m a Celebrity Get Me Outta Here’ and to see if we will have any snow as the temperatures drop.

But to get to that stage, you need to either embrace or tolerate the days leading up to and shortly after November 5^th - Fireworks Night.

As a kid, I loved Fireworks Night. Friends of the family would always have a huge party, where the entire neighbourhood would be invited. We would wave sparklers, roast marshmallows, and as we got older were allowed to drink and act more grown up! Some great memories were made.

Where I live, I have a great panoramic view of the local sky line. On Fireworks night and New Year’s Eve, I have the best seat in the house to watch the displays overhead. But the problem now in my current situation of being a parent with a baby under the age of two, it is no fun at all.

For my neighbourhood this weekend was like a re-enactment of The Blitz. It seemed like every property in the immediate vicinity were having Bonfire Night parties, with fireworks exploding from around 5:30 pm through til gone midnight.

The noise generated from these modern fireworks is reminiscent of scenes in documentaries from war-zones. The whistle effect before the huge explosion was like something from a World War Two film. I do not remember the fireworks from my childhood being anywhere near as ferocious as what I observed this weekend.

I am not one to complain about the actions of others. I believe everyone has the right to act the way that they want on their property (within reason) in accordance with the laws of the land. The problem I had was trying to keep my baby boy calm enough to settle down and go to sleep, with the explosions outside our windows. And I am sure I was not alone in feeling this frustration.

So much so, that at the time of writing, over 119,000 people have signed an official petition to ban the sale of fireworks to members of the public, and only approve organised displays. 

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/168663

I believe this petition has been set up and signed by so many, not only for the inconvenience it causes to young children, but also the traumatic effect it has on pets& animals, the fact that people let the fireworks off at unregulated times of the day or night, and how unorganised displays can lead to accidents including burns and fire, or induce PTSD in people who have suffered from conflicts.

Throughout the country, there are a huge number of organised displays, usually with a small entry fee, which people and families can attend, to enjoy that night of the year. Without argument,  this is a far safer way to enjoy the spectacle in the night sky.

Fireworks night aka Bonfire Night, aka Guy Fawkes Night has been going for hundreds of years, since 1605, where the King allowed the public to celebrate his survival with bonfires, after a plot to assassinate him and blow up the House of Lords. Over the centuries since, local children would collect and burn an effigy of Guy Fawkes (the man caught with the explosives under the House of Lords), and people would come together to let off the fireworks.

I wonder of all of the people who decided to host a firework party this passed weekend, how many remember the reason for that event, or whether it is just something fun to do at this time of the year, before the lead up to Christmas kicks in.

I am not….

As we rapidly approach 11/11 - Remembrance Day, I have been filled with pride and passion in seeing the veterans, cadets, serving soldiers and volunteers giving their time to participate in raising funds for this year’s Poppy appeal.

Remembrance day and the Poppy Appeal, is where we remember, pay our respects and reflect on those brave individuals who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for our country and the commonwealth, and those who are currently serving for our forces in present day.

The date is significant as it marks the end of the fighting in the First World War, which ended on the 11^th hour, of the 11^th day, of the 11^th month of the year 1918. 

On the closest Sunday to November 11^th, as Brits we are familiar with the Queen, the other members of the Royal family, politicians, religious leaders and dignitaries from around the globe coming together to remember & participate in the laying of wreaths, observing the 'Last Post' and taking part the two minutes silence.

But always more moving for me, was seeing the veterans of the World Wars marching in their thousands past the cenotaph and saluting the tomb of the unknown soldier. It was something I watched every year, and continue to be totally in awe of these men and women, of the greatest generation, who were prepared to give their today’s, so that we could have our tomorrows.

As the years rolled on, the men of WW1 died out, and now we see smaller numbers of WW2 survivors marching. Alongside the WW2 survivors, we see younger veterans and serving soldiers, which is a stark reminder that men are dying today fighting for our country.

I had observed in recent years, that in my opinion, the number of poppies visible on my fellow commuters had dwindled. This may have been a misconception on my behalf, and not reflect the actual trends within the country, but on my commute, I was disappointed that so many were either too busy to buy a poppy, or too ignorant to what that time of the year represents.

However it seems that people are again taking the time to donate, to buy a poppy, to wear that poppy with pride, and remember and honour those brave men and women who have passed before us.

I think part of this is due to the ceramic poppy installation at The Tower of London in 2014, which raised huge sums for various charities, and helped bring the meaning of the Poppy appeal back to the forefront of our minds at this time of year.

The installation at the iconic London landmark was hugely poignant and significant, as it marked 100 years since the first full day of our involvement in WW1. Each poppy was carefully planted to honour each individual of the over eight hundred and eighty thousand fatalities in that world war. It became a place to see, a new attraction in London, and a place to reflect on what those men and their families went through all those years ago. It certainly seems to had a huge effect in the following years.

However, over the recent years, there seems to have been an inevitable backlash and furore about the Poppy in some way.

 In 2013, a television newsreader decided to go against trend of most other people on television, and not wear a poppy, which caused a storm of controversy and heated discussion. 
In 2015, it was the leader of the opposition, Jeremy Corbyn, wearing a white poppy, to represent his pacifism. 

This year, it  is the global football organisation FIFA, stating that the kits worn by the England and Scotland national football teams in the upcoming match, scheduled for Nov 11^th, must not have the poppy on display. This caused outrage, and was discussed in Parliament, with the Football Association’s for both nations deciding to go against FIFAs ruling, and to wear a commemorative black armband with the poppy emblem visible as a mark of respect.

Last year, when the alarm rang in my previous job, to mark the start of the two minutes silence, I was enraged with anger at those around me. Two minutes of your time, at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. To stop what you are doing, keep quiet, reflect, and show your respect. It shouldn't too much to ask? In my opinion that is the least we should be doing. That day made me so disappointed in other people. I would say only about 1 in 5 people on my commute wore a poppy. And in my office, when the PA system announced the start of the silence, so many people kept on working, typing away on the keyboard. It was just two measly minutes of the day to remember all of those people who paid the ultimate sacrifice, and people couldn't stop what they were doing. It pissed me off.

I have grown up respecting and wearing my poppy with pride. I will teach that trait to my son, I will teach him about the strength and courage, felt by those under circumstances we can only imagine. I hope that he will share my views on remembering those who paid the ultimate sacrifice to allow us to live the way that we do today. 

Recently, there have been arguments that true meaning of the poppy has been forgotten. That instead of remembering The First and Second World Wars, we are honouring those killed in combats which have not been universally popular, which have been opposed to by thousands of people, and for modern conflicts which we as a nation have taken upon ourselves to get involved in. But for me the political arguments need to be put aside. Whether we should be fighting these wars is a completely different topic for me. What the poppy symbolises is an opportunity to simply say "thank you" to the brave people who do not pick where they are sent to fight, they are simply doing what they are paid (not enough by the way) to do, in service of their country.

On social media I saw a poem regarding the poppy that I hadn’t seen before, and it sums up exactly how I feel. Apparently it was written in a space of a few minutes, by man whilst his wife watched The X Factor. I couldn't find the author's name, but my respect goes out to you Sir. It appeals to me as it sums up what it means to me. The poppy isn't to glorify war or to segregate races, it is a way to acknowledge the sacrifice, to ensure that we are not allowed to forget the lessons learned, or let those memories to fade.

I am not a badge of honour,

I am not a racist smear,

I am not a fashion statement,

To be worn but once a year,

I am not glorification

Of conflict or of war.

I am not a paper ornament

A token,

I am more.

I am a loving memory,

Of a father or a son,

A permanent reminder

Of each and every one.

I'm paper or enamel

I'm old or shining new,

I'm a way of saying thank you,

To every one of you.

I am a simple poppy

A Reminder to you all,

That courage faith and honour,

Will stand where heroes fall.

What the great generations gave us is nothing short of amazing. I cannot begin to fathom what the soldiers and every day people went through during the war years. 

I for one will always wear the poppy with pride, and I can't understand those who want to live in this country and not back the Poppy appeal. Desecration of wreaths and poppies by extremists should not be tolerated, and I hope that the due respect is paid this year.

Of course not everyone wants to wear a poppy, for whatever reason. Some say that the Poppy is no longer doing what it was designed to do, and is being used for political statements. I even saw an article today, which made my blood boil, claiming the Poppy is now a symbol of racism. 

Everyone nowadays has a choice, and with social media they have a place to voice that opinion. Just as I am doing with my blog.   But having that choice is something our generation fully take for granted. Many many men from the two world wars did not have a choice. And that is a huge part of what we are remembering leading up to and an on November 11th. In my opinion, an individual's choice to NOT wear a poppy, is a far bigger political statement by that individual, compared to the people who will be wearing a poppy at this time of year.

Over 100 years may have passed since the commencement of the First World War, and our troops are in various places at harms risk at present. Thank you for the thankless task that you are undertaking. I will wear my poppy to pay respects for any sacrifice from any conflict.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

Lest we forget.

http://www.britishlegion.org.uk/

The dust has settled and tears have dried...

Before I start, please proceed with caution reading this if you are one of the few people who are yet to see The Walking Dead Season 7 Episode 1.

In this post, I will avoid naming names and spoiling the episode. However, I don’t think there are people of the social media generation who have managed to avoid the spoilers. They are everywhere, and it is infuriating. But if you are one of these people, and have avoided the spoilers and yet you call yourself a fan of The Walking Dead, then WTF?!?!? How have you not seen the episode yet!??!

Ok so here goes... Warning over…

Under usual circumstances, we do not get the new episode of The Walking Dead here in the UK, until the day after it premieres in the US.

However such was the nature of the cliff-hanger at the end of Season 6, the executives at FOX decided to air the Premiere of Season 7 at 0230 on Monday morning– so it would air at the same time as it was broadcast in the US. The same strategy employed by the team at SKY regarding Game of Thrones.

I went to bed on Sunday evening, feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. I knew that when I awoke, there would be a present for me, sitting on my PVR planner, delivered overnight by the Santa like people at FOX (AMC in the US).

I personally knew that I could not take the risk of seeing a spoiler, so decided set my PVR to record the 0230 transmission, and set my alarm to wake me up early on Monday morning to watch the episode at 5am, before my partner and baby wake up, and before I needed to start getting ready for work. I knew that someone on social media or a news outlet would have posted something, and I wasn’t going to let the agonising six month wait that was almost over, be ruined by someone else.

In the week leading up to the premiere, there had been prominent marketing from the channel and programming itself about fans not spoiling the episode for other fans, unfortunately this wasn't hugely successful, as once fans had seen the show, their initial reaction was to flood social media outlets with their views, and to communicate their emotions with like minded people. It is inevitable and impossible to police.

I was up before the sunrise, settled in my comfy clothes, ready and waiting with anticipation for what was about to come. We already knew something BIG was going to happen. We had seen it from that characters point of view six months ago. But the question was who?

Soon the question we had been agonising over, the question which had led to the creation of hundreds of YouTube theory videos, the question we had been discussing on social media and talking about with friends and loved ones had been answered.

We knew the identity of Negan’s victim.

The Walking Dead was back in all of its gory ultra-violent glory, and was back with a huge bang. Well more than one bang. More like repetitive strikes of Negan’s barbed wire wrapped baseball bat named Lucille.

The dust has settled, tears have dried and the realisation of what I witnessed has sunken in. Opinions have been formed, reaction videos uploaded, online & print reviews posted and verbal discussions have occurred all over the world. But for the majority, the line between real life and TV has been crossed. As a viewer we, our main group of protagonists suffered hugely in this episode. So much so, that the show will have a completely new direction after this episode.

Personally, I felt a sense of bereavement and grief at watching this episode, as if it was somebody that I knew who had passed away, and not just a fictional character in long running television series about surviving in a zombie apocalypse. I had invested years of my life in supporting this group. So what happened really hit me hard.

The reviews of this episode have been mixed. Some fans have loved it for twisting the narrative, for breaking the character of Rick Grimes, and leaving the show with a new avenue to travel down in season 7. Others fans were left disgusted at the level of gore and violence, labelling the episode as “torture porn masquerading as storytelling”

I guess it depends on how you see your level of association with the programme. Super fans will have loved it, and every day casual fans may have been totally turned off. If you had viewed from the start, you will have seen the group’s struggles gain in intensity over the seasons, and the same can be said for the violence and suffering that they have suffered and imparted as the seasons have progressed. Some people have stated on social media that they will no longer watch the show. In my view this is just ridiculous. If you have invested years into something as graphic as TWD, then although this episode was shocking, it is not beyond the realms of what this show has been capable of. We have seen beheadings a plenty, a son killing his mother, a crossbow arrow to the eye, torture and cannibalism to mention just a few shock factor moments.

Such is the contrast of the critiques, that that the governing body who regulate what can or can’t go on television here in the UK, OFCOM, received complaints after people viewed the 0230 transmission, which lead to FOX having to make minor edits to the 2100 screening, to make it more compliant with the regulations. 

One of these edits appeared to remove one character's very poignant last words to another character, which led to confusion, as that particular line "I'll find you" was discussed in the talk show Talking Dead which airs immediately after the 9pm showing on FOX UK.

Although left depressed and in a mood of reflection after this episode, in my opinion it did everything that I wanted it to. I found out who the victim was after a long six months, I was left jaw wide open at certain things which happened, and I cannot wait to see how this season progresses from here.

I was in awe of some of the acting performances in this episode, notably Jeffrey Dean Morgan as Negan, and Andrew Lincoln as Rick. The way  they played their interactions was exactly what was needed, and completley believable. Notable mention to Lauren Cohen as Maggie, expressed what everyone at home was feeling. 

The episode is on track to be the highest performing show ever on FOX UK, and after spending three years working for the channel, I am delighted that they are receiving figures like that. The show continues to grow in the UK, with a 59% increase on viewing figures from the opening episode of season 6. Amazing numbers for a channel such as FOX, and a great place for advertisers to align themselves.

The Walking Dead airs on FOX UK @ 9pm on Mondays. – Not sure if they will continue to simulcast with the US for future episodes.

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?