Once again, we are back in that time of the year that I so dislike. It’s cold and getting colder. We’ve already had the two worst days of the year, in my book anyway. Hallowe’en and bonfire night.
How Hallowe’en has been sprung on to us I really don’t know. I’ve always thought of it as just an excuse for kids to knock on my door and demand sweets. When I was a child I don’t think I had ever even heard of Hallowe’en. Certainly no one I knew dressed up and knocked on doors expecting sweets. These days it seems to be a major event with shops full of Hallowe’en themed produce.
Back in the 1960s my childhood friends and I did put together a ‘guy’ and push it down to the local shops in an old pram where we exhibited our creation – basically a dummy made up of old clothes stuffed with rags and paper – to various passing shoppers in the hope that they would toss us a few coppers. Anyway, these days I turn out the lights and never answer the door on Hallowe’en and just turn up the volume on the TV on bonfire night.
F1
What is rather odd about the current F1 season is that here we are in November and there are still three races left on the calendar. I don’t subscribe to the Sky F1 channel so to watch F1 I have to wait for the highlights edition from Channel Four on terrestrial TV. Now we’re at the end of the season which really is going on far too long these days. C4 don’t even bother to send their usual crew to these last far away races. No David Coulthard and Lee McKenzie hosts the show from somewhere in London. There is a real feeling, certainly for me at any rate, that I’m ready for the season to be over. Twenty three races is just far too many. It must be difficult for the teams too as they have to get their new cars ready for the next season.
Even so it’s been quite an interesting season. Some time ago Lewis Hamilton left Mercedes to drive for Ferrari and Mercedes promoted young newcomer Kimi Antonelli to fill the vacant seat. George Russell must clearly have felt that now he was the Mercedes number one driver and given a good car he would be able to challenge for the world championship. Sadly for George things just didn’t turn out like that because Kimi has turned out to be a real natural talent and only a few weeks ago locked out the championship despite there being three races remaining. George was apparently so unsettled by this turn around of events that he declined to attend the post race press conference earning himself a 5000 euro fine at the Mexican Grand Prix. I’m not sure what that actually says about George. Was he that upset that he couldn’t answer questions about the new boy becoming the world champion?
Kimi Antonelli is the youngest ever world champion at only 20 years of age and he is actually only the third ever Italian world champion. The previous one was Alberto Ascari in in 1953 and before that Nino Farina in 1950 who was the sport’s first ever world champion.
The big disappointment of 2026 has to be the performance of the Aston Martin team. Top designer Adrian Newey who designed the race winning Red Bull cars of the past few years was lured to Aston Martin by billionaire owner Lawrence Stroll. However, despite a massive pay packet, the Aston Martin team have gradually moved from the back of the grid to round about the middle and it has taken them all season to do that. Fernando Alonso is the oldest driver on the grid and he seems set to stay on for another year in pursuit of a last championship or a last race win. Alonso has a lot of talent as a driver but he also has another talent which is choosing the wrong team to drive for. If only he had stuck it out at McLaren. Still, it would be nice to see Fernando on the podium once again.
The Big Move
This week I’ve decided that it’s time to give up my rented house in Manchester and move full time to St Annes on the Fylde coast. What has been really difficult is getting everything packed up ready for the move. I’ve been back and forth to the tip so many times getting rid of stuff that has been in this house for years. My mum and dad moved here in the mid 1980s. Prior to that we lived in Handforth but dad still worked in Manchester, cycling to work in all kinds of weather. When they moved back here he was happy for a while, especially as he was near to his brother, my uncle Raymond. Sadly, not long after moving Raymond died and dad was crushed.
He felt, I suppose, how I felt when my brother Colin died. Colin was younger than me so I just always assumed it would be me who would go first. Colin and I used to meet up in Manchester for a few beers and a wander around all our old city centre haunts. In recent years he found he couldn’t walk far so we tended to go to a local pub that was just a short bus ride away. Sometimes he would just get a taxi to my place where I could try out my limited cookery repertoire on him. The last time I ever saw him I cooked pizza from scratch and I’m happy to say it was a pretty nice meal.
One Last Memory
A lot of years ago I wrote a poem about the last dog that mum and dad ever had. He was a rescue dog called Bouncer as apparently, he was continually bouncing up and down. If that was the case dad certainly cured him of that.
The King of the garden is dead
And now the vultures come
For once before they would fear to tread
But not now, now the King is dead.
The King was a battered mongrel dog
Who kept his enemies at bay
And no cat would dare to enter his domain
Whatever the time of day
The cats roam fearless now
And in the midday sun can quietly lie
Or dance and play upon the ground
Under which the King’s bones do lie.
His memory seems to linger though for when I spied a feline gang
And called out ‘CATS’ as in days gone by
Tomcat, tortoiseshell and tabby too
Pelted hell for leather and rushed away
Now once again they fear to tread
This garden, this hallowed ground
And that mongrel dog, that former King
Who kept this land free from cats -His memory still lives on
Bouncer made sure no cat would ever trespass on the back garden and even today I too chase away the cats. Bouncer outlived my dad otherwise dad would have buried Bouncer in a corner of the garden somewhere.
Good job really. I wouldn’t want the cats to dance on his grave when I’m gone.
