The highlight of my year approaches!

Friday is the day I have been looking forward to for about a year!

Once a year, a group of about five or six friends, all Everton shareholders and fans, meet up at Langans Brasserie (Michael Caine's restaurant) in London, to talk about all things Everton (and otherwise).

We arrive at lunchtime and usually leave sometime before our last trains home!

Among the illuminaries to be there this year will be Professor Paul Preston, the world's leading expert on the Spanish Civil War, King Juan Carlos and General Franco. Paul is truly one of the greatest and funniest men I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and every minute spent in his company is a pleasure.

Steve Allinson, ex chairman of the Everton Football Club Shareholder's Association is also tremendous company, and if the evening starts to go haywire, you can be sure he'll be something to do with the debauchery!

And the day is hosted by Paul Tollett (Business Marketing Manager of O2) all round nice guy, and as keen a Bluenose as you'd meet anywhere. He also has as sad a memory for all things Everton as I do!

Also present will be Ken Tollett, Paul's dad and Steve Kirkwood, a long time member of the NTAS and former coach of the Everton FC Internet supporters team!

Far too much wine will be drunk, far too much rubbish will be spoken (mostly by me) and I will be very glad I'm not having to do the driving when we go to Everton v Manchester City at 8 am the next morning!

But by God I can't wait!

The war of attrition begins....

So, I get a phone call today from the 'powers that be' telling me to attend a meeting in Kingston-upon-Thames on Monday morning. This will be the meeting with the national sales director and my regional area manager, where they offer me countless pay rises and incentives to stay on.

If I am worth all this attention now, why wasn't I worth it before I handed in my resignation?
It pisses me off to be honest. If they'd come up with something like this before, then I probably wouldn't even have looked for another job.

So it'll be very much a case of 'locking the stable door after the horse has bolted' as I've made my mind up to leave now, and am looking forward to the new challenge and professional outlook.

So nothing will change on Monday, unless they offer me £250,000 a year, a company Ferrari and a 21 year old Fillipino houseboy to do the cleaning.

My third job in 24 years!

Last week, after attending informal and formal interviews, I was told that I would be offered the job I had applied for.
I shall be continuing in audiology, but working for a smaller, more professional, less unwieldly firm.

The pay and holiday are better, the car is faster and a little more chic, but the biggest improvements will be in the company's professional attitude and outlook. Smaller firms tend to value their staff more, and I certainly get that impression from talking to them. They seem to value the input and ideas of their staff, whereas my present company are so large and faceless, one feels more like a number or statistic than the company's most valuable asset, which is what we are. After all, without us, they have NO income.

So after two years of growing more and more disgruntled with working for such a large organisation, I had little hesitation when the job was offered to me, and I will shortly move on to my third job in 24 years!

My biggest regret is leaving behind my fantastic mate Nancy, who is undoubtedly the best friend I've ever had from a working environment, but to be honest, our friendship now is about far more than the fact that we work together three days a week.

I shall write more on this topic when I begin the work!

A random poem

This is one of my favourite poems, written by the wonderful Seamus Heaney.

Unlike with books, I never tire of rereading good poetry.

Blackberry-picking Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots. Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills We trekked and picked until the cans were full, Until the tinkling bottom had been covered With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's. We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre. But when the bath was filled we found a fur, A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache. The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour. I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot. Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.

The Moth Joke

This is one of my favourite jokes. I hope you enjoy it.

A man goes into a doctor's surgery, and speaks to the doctor:

''Doctor, I have a real problem. I keep thinking that I'm a moth''.

The doctor replies:

''It's not really a doctor you need for this, it's a psychiatrist''.

And the man says:

''Well, that was what I thought, and in fact I was on my way to see one just then, but as I was passing, I saw your light was on''.

Friday!

Well, it's Friday.

Weekend things:

First drink since Saturday.
Everton v Wigan Athletic.
2 wonderful, but short, days off.
Unfulfilled plans to do housework.
Arguments about who's turn it is to go shopping.
Corner pets.

Falling asleep on the sofa.
Watching 15 minutes of a dvd, before falling asleep on the sofa.
Hedge-bouncing.
Being wide-awake at 8 am, and knowing if it were a work day you'd be dead to the world.
Back to back televised football.
long and luxurious baths.
Excessive coffee drinking.
Brian's lunchtime cheese sandwiches.
Relaxation.
Realisation that we're back to work on Sunday.....

Last word on the derby?

I'll try not to mention the derby again for a while, but I think we should let a Liverpool supporter have the VERY last word on the matter after some taunting from the better blues.

It was the best of times, it was the würst of times.

I don't really have anything worthwhile to say today. So do I keep schtum, or do I just type drivel? Drivel gets the vote.

Brian had sausages, chips and beans for dinner tonight.

Three sausages I might add. It's always three.

Three shall be the number of sausages he shall have, and the number of the sausages shall be three. Four shall he not have, neither shall he have two, unless he proceeds on to three.
One or five? Forget it.

Once having reached the number of the sausages (three) then we may approach the stove and cook.

He's taken to the new recycling plans with gusto I must say. We've just had delivered, various different containers for papers, cans, plastics etc., and Brian has taken it upon himself to arrange this all himself. This is encouraging. Normally it's about as easy to get Brian to take a trip to the refuse tip as it would be to get Ariel Sharon to sit down and share Brian's aforementioned plate of sausages.

I just hope his recycling zeal doesn't lose pace, as I do think it's a very worthwhile thing to be doing.

So far, if we recycled Brian's beer cans and my wine bottles, we could come up with a passable model of Canary Wharf. Life size, I might add.

So the weekend looms ever nearer, and Friday is my first opportunity for a week, to put a dent in the European wine lake. I don't suppose I shall make much of an inroad there, but I daresay in the future some lucky newlywed couple will have a set of French windows to be proud of.

Beautiful Thing(s)

Beautiful Thing is my favourite movie. It is a funny, happy and sad, feelgood movie about two lads falling in love on a rough South London council estate. Another in the fantastic series of Channel 4 films. It was never mainstream, but if you want to see it, you can get it on any of the internet dvd sites, or failing that, if you're near enough, I can lend it to you!

I have posted above here, some pictures of things that I consider to be beautiful here as well, purely as an afterthought!

Firstly, there's a picture of the scoreboard at Goodison on Saturday after the derby win. Then there's an aerial shot of where we live, a shot of Brian pondering whether to have fishfingers or fishcakes for dinner, a shot of the Liver Building and the River Mersey, one of Sydney Opera House, the ubiquitous aerial picture of Goodison Park, the home of the Mighty Everton FC, a picturesque scene from the Lake District in north-west England, a portrait of singer Ben Adams and a lovely shot of Salzburg overlooking the river Salzach.

911

Today was the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the USA of September 11th 2001.
My thoughts and sympathies go with the victims and families of all terror attacks, illegal killings, illegal wars and unsolicited violence.

Since September 11th 2001, there have been attacks on Madrid, Indonesia and London by Al Qaeda, as there have been attacks on Iraq by British and American forces, and on Lebanon by Israeli forces. There is no light at the end of the tunnel, no sign of abatement and certainly no sign of anybody 'winning'.

EVERYBODY is losing.

What can we learn from history? Well, when John Major took over from Margaret Thatcher in 1990, one of the most memorable things he did as British Prime Minister was to start the long and drawn-out peace process with the Irish Republican Movement, and eventually bring the likes of Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness to the negotiating table. Tony Blair continued this good work, and even if we have nothing else to thank him and Major for, this partial solving of an extremely difficult problem in Ireland has been a massive step forward, and has since seen the disarming and disbanding of the pIRA. Some may argue this point, but Irish Republican terrorism in mainland UK is now a thing of the past.

In 1993, the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded jointly to Nelson Mandela and Frederik William (FW) de Klerk, for their roles in the abolishment of apartheidt. De Klerk made the decision to begin negotiations with the (outlawed) African National Congress in the face of heavy criticism from conservative South Africans, but possibly was influenced by boycotts of South African products and Sporting teams.

The link between these two momentous achievements, is that peace was arrived at by senior politicians taking the bit between their teeth, and negotiating with terrorist organisations.
Surely now the time has come for the western powers to attempt to negotiate with Osama Bin Laden and al Qaeda? Should the powers that be not try and find out what is motivating people so much that they are prepared to give their lives for their cause?

People will shout and scream 'oh but that's letting them win' but I think it'd be letting everyone win. How many Iraqi and Palestinian citizens see Americans, British and Israelis as terrorists and war criminals?

If nothing is done the pointless killing will continue, and I firmly believe we will end up with the most serious confrontations since World War II.

Redgum

Redgum are without doubt my favourite band of all time.

'Who?' you probably ask.

Well, they were an Australian band which made music that not only was good, it meant something too.
John Schumann wrote songs with his dissatisfaction of the Australian political system of the 1980s very much in evidence. Consumerism, globalism, excessive capitalism, needless wars, the selling of Australia's family silver to the Americans, they all are touched upon by Schumann's intelligence and the band's remarkable ability to twin that with really good music.

It never fails to amaze me that they got so little credit for their work.

Have a listen to this song, and watch the video too. It's called 'I was only 19', and is a strong criticism of the Vietnam war.

Their records are BLOODY hard to get hold of. It has taken me 10 years or so to get the amount I have now, and I KNOW there's more stuff out there but as rare as rocking horse shit.

If you are interested and want to hear more, drop me an email.

Stoo.roberts@btopenworld.com

Everton 3 - 0 Liverpool

Well how wrong can you be? A fantastic performance by the boys in blue totally destroyed Liverpool with concise, threatening attack play, dogged defending, and a fair rub of the green for once.

In spite of the referee, as I predicted, trying to win the game single-handedly for Liverpool, we held on in the face of decision after decision against us, and took our chances when we could.

Andrew Johnson was the best player on the pitch by a long, long way and his two goals will turn him into a folk hero immediately. Liverpool's midfield kept the ball well, but until they pushed Steven Gerrard out to the right to take on the woeful Gary Naysmith, they never looked like creating anything. The one penalty decision went in our favour for once, but that didn't make up for the 30 or so free kicks the referee gave Liverpool. Anyway, I'd have taken 3-1 as well!

Oh joy.

Now, I think a certain amount of imbibing and celebrating is in order!

COME ON YOU BLUES!

Watch the highlights here!

Torture Saturday

Well it's that time of year again. On Saturday, it's the first Merseyside Derby of the season, at Goodison Park. I HATE the derby, namely because we, Everton, always lose. Liverpool always win, it's inevitable. Liverpool FC is a vile institution which incorporates luck, bribery of referees, cheating, fouling, more luck, better financial expenditure on the team, media favouritism, more luck, ridiculous decisions from referees and governing bodies, yet more luck, and of course, the fact that they have sold their souls to the Cloven Hooved one. Lucifer. They are Legion. Liverpool FC is Satan's XI. And they're better than us too. Which, given the above, does tend to make life a little difficult. Saturday's referee, Graham Poll, has a history of cheating against Everton, not least in derbies, so any chance of an even break from him has gone out of the window. So, I shall be forced to watch on Saturday, with a kind of morbid fascination, the kind where you are watching somebody pull the wings off a fly, even though it revolts you. My prediction for Saturday, is Everton 0 -3 Liver(poll), and we will have at least one man sent off and are on the wrong end of a penalty decision, whether it is one given to the legion of the damned, or one in our favour not awarded. I'll be VERY glad when it's all over anyway.

Steve Irwin

Steve Irwin, Australia's most famous animal molester was killed today when he was stung by a stingray in the heart. A dreadfully sad story, but he was always sailing close to the wind.
It's just NOT CLEVER to try and insert digits into dangerous animals is it?

A sad tail (sic) of woe, but probably the way Steve would have chosen to go, had he been given the option of choosing.

I don't suppose Monday was his favourite day either.

Til next time folks.

Tell me why?

'On 29 January 1979, 16-year-old Brenda Ann Spencer opened fire on children arriving at Cleveland Elementary School in San Diego from her house across the street, killing two men and wounding eight students and a police officer. As to what impelled her into this form of murderous madness, she told a reporter,''I don't like Mondays.'


Now I really, REALLY don't like Mondays.
I'm not the type to take an automatic weapon to work and indiscriminately pick-off my patients and colleagues, but I do find the M word looms ever nearer from about 11 am on Sunday. I quite like my work, but surely there has to be more to life than the 5 days on and 2 days off drudge? Is this something we all suffer from, or just another symptom of my ever looming middle-age crisis?

Is it chic to have a middle age crisis? How do I know if I genuinely am having one? How will I know if it ends? Will it end? Will I be all sparkly and the life and soul of the party again when it does end?

I've never had what I would call a fashionable malaise before, maybe I should have a go with MRSA or ME first, to see if they're more rewarding. The term 'middle-age crisis' tends to do little more than raise the odd unsympathetic eyebrow or comments about attention seeking.
Pffff, attention seeking? Me? Good God no, some people even have the audacity to write their thoughts down on a web page and expect total strangers to be amused and entertained.

Perish the thought. Anyway, all this conjecture doesn't hide the fact that I HATE MONDAYS.