There's probably some blasphemy in here but hey, but hey?

The dog, the homework, etc.
Right, apologies for being a litle slow in returning to the world of blog. There are a few ridiculously down to earth reasons for this. In no particular order they are, our apt lost the ability to produce hot water for the shower, washing machine and dishwasher. This has been fixed (as of Wednesday afternoon) but it still meant two days of boiling lobster pots on the stove to fill the bathtub. This was mildly annoying but little more for myself as I'm on spring break but it was a righteous trauma for Ms Random Doubt as she has a proper job and had to rise an hour earlier than usual to stoke the fires and heat water. I now see why olden day types didn't wash as much as we do. It's a right hassle heating even a small bath tub worth of water. Needless to say we have restored full services witthout having to call City Hall and are now all clean and lovely.
Alongside very real issues with water and related hygiene I have had a very 'blippy' time with the trusty laptop. To be a little more precise our internet connection has been mysteriously wobbly and each time I tried to blog, check emails or even look for fun things to do on my days off the page would as likely disappear and leave me. I can see why people may think that the water thing might be troublesome but not entirely blog relevant, I'll explain. Hygiene is important to me (wasn't always), so when I find something stands between me and my morning shower I get emotional. I didn't want my blog chums to see me in this state, it would have made you doubt the Random Doubter you thought you knew. I couldn't allow that.

Onto other things, Running.
I love to run. This began a few years ago during one of my ill fated attempts to give up smoking. I actually did very well and running became the new smoking. I ran up hill and down dale, over farmland and down to the pub, I ran everywhere. Two hospitalising knee injuries later I am running again (by running I mean actually going outside and pounding the streets , not running on a treadmill in a gym, I do that during the winter and whilst it's a great way to watch VH1 and listen to music it's not quite the same).
Today I tackled the beast.
Today I ran across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Well, to be completely honest I walked to the bridge (in the form of the all important warm up) and ran across it. I then walked back.
It's like this, running is hard, punishing work. It's so very much easier inside a warm gym on a treadmill with plenty of 'give'. It's another to crunch those knee joints along the wonky Brooklyn sidewalk, to dodge idiot tourists who get in your way and finally realise that you've over enthused yourself and are risking complete collapse in front of all the aforementioned tourist types.
Still, I was pretty pleased with the effort. I could have just stayed indoors and read or watched TV. I could have gone down the pub. Instead I got my stuff on and went for a trot.
Why though? Why not just stick to the gym? It's warm and safe and friendly. If I really were to risk injury I could get immediate medical attention without fuss or worry. Why take the chance and hit the streets?
I guess partly because it's there. The outside world is a lot more interesting than the gym. I don't run to compete with anyone (only myself, I time my distances and seek improvement or at least consistency). I run to get out there, to look around, to take in the air. I generally try to look really cool as I run past people yet by the time I get to a quiet, secluded spot I pant and wheeze and choke. Today, as I was walking back home across the bridge it occurred to me that it was one of the few times that I had strolled across the old thing alone, alone without needing to offer commentary to some visitor, alone without being locked in conversation with Ms Random Doubts, just alone. As well as being alone (I abhore running with others, I am firmly in the camp of the lonely long distance runner) I find that running makes me very observant. It opens the lungs and the soul. I started to notice things as I walked back, I noticed cars on the BQE, I noticed tourists doing their thing, I noticed Brooklynites doing theirs. I saw a couple at the park by Cadman Plaza. They had just walked the bridge and were clearly looking for evidence of this mystical place called 'Brooklyn'. She was looking for cute bistros and stores, he for great pubs with pool tables and excellent jukeboxes. They were confronted by the housing blocks at the bottom end of Henry Street. As I walked through the blocks (noticing but disregarding the wierdos sitting around) I saw the couple head towards the A/C subway at High Street, looking a bit dissapointed. "So this is Brooklyn?" they must have thought (You could see it in their faces). It was only as I got onto the sidewalk at Henry Street and saw the little pubs and cafes, the movie theatre and the people bobbing about, going about their day that It occured to me, I should have gone over and helped them out, "look" I would have said, "I know this looks shit but if you duck round this corner and stroll a few blocks past all those awfully tedious yet deeply historic churches and stores and elderly lanes and Brownstones, well, you might find what you want". I guess they went back to Manhattan.
Apologies for the ramble. I'm back.

Just one more thing.
Do you want to know how much of a true geek I really am?
When running I often inspire myself with some oft quoted song lyric or line of classic poetry. I also have a secret weapon. It's from an interview Al Gore gave during the 2000 campaign. It's nothing really but when asked about President Clinton's contribution to his development as a human being, Gore (who was trying to distance himself from Clinton- like I need to explain this to Americans?) responded that Clinton's greatest skill was the ability to prevail. I've never been entirely sure what Gore was getting at (then, now, ever) but I liked the idea. Prevail.
I use it when running. Prevail.
I find it helps. Prevail.

An impossible task

Someone just told me that i should write a list of everybook I've ever read. I know that 'Unwellness' is considering this. I just cant, it's not in my nature. A vague, rambling, mumbly chat about books is fine but a precise, analytical list of books read through A-Z just isn't. It doesn't fit with the bigger picture, broadstroke that is Bowles (I would have died a horrible death in the Carter White House, all that micro management of tennis court schedules?). I could tell you about some of the good stuff that I have read in the last 30 odd years and enjoyed as well as some of the stuff that has passed me by.
Some books i have liked....

You see? I just cant think. I'm going to take two weeks off from blogging. I shall return to this blog on Monday, March 28th.

Hats and scarves.

This was written way back in November for the NYCanaries website (see link at right). It's written for an English audience and most visitors to Mondale will have already read it. Why re publish? I was a bit perturbed that the NYCanaries website wasn't maintaining an archives and when I found this on my computer. I thought why not? I don't really like republishing stuff from elsewhere but I'm a bit low on inspiration right now and wanted to preserve this within a domain of my own controlling. If you've seen it already, apologies. If not, check it out.

Hats and scarves.

Down the years many people have made good livings out of drawing comparisons between different cultures. To some extent that's one of the key reasons for the existence of NY Canaries. We are from another culture and yet we live here in the great melting pot, New York. Norwich fans are perhaps just another of the many ethnic groups with a furrowed brow and impenetrable accent. OK, we aren’t suffering from some wave of economic or political misfortune, we have not been forced to flee sunny Norfolk due to war or famine but we do have our problems.
At the time of writing we have yet to win a game in the premiership.

That’s why, in the absence of any good news from Blighty I've decided to think long and hard about some of the little differences between this sporting life, here in the US and there in the UK.
As we are all only too well aware there is only really one sport of any significance in the UK. That's right, football. I lived in the West country for eight years and have learned to love cricket and can sit through a rugby match without too much pain but for me, and millions like me it's football that matters, it's just the way I was brought up. That's probably why, upon meeting another 'Brit' I tend to get to the point, "What's your team?" most people have an answer and if they don't then you have to find another means with which to build trust. (Of course we are all caught in that embarrassing trap if the response is along the lines of "well, being born in Stowmarket I often used to find myself at Portman road")

Here in the States it's a bit different. Baseball is still the venerable uncle of American sport with tales of glory and sepia tinted memories but it really can't claim to be the universal American pastime that it once was. Nowadays it competes with football (the gridiron version), basketball and hockey. Accordingly it's much trickier with Americans, first you have to navigate through "what’s your game?" before you can find out if someone is a Met or Yankee, a Giant or a Jet even an Islander or a Ranger.

I have to admit that I've never been to a football game, a basketball game or a hockey game but I have been to plenty of ball games. That's where my comparisons are going to be drawn from.
Surprisingly, I think that football and baseball have more in common than one would think at first.
Many of the franchises are pretty old. OK, my team, the New York Mets is only 42 years old but they are in some sense the heirs of some of the tradition of the defunct Brooklyn Dodgers.
(I was once working with a Holocaust survivor who was telling me about her husband, "Oh you think I’ve suffered? He was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan, that's suffering") Baseball as an organized sport is very much a game of the people hence the nickname, "America's pastime". Both are solid, working class games. A friend recently described the Boston Red Sox as a "good, honest blue collar franchise".
It's also, in its organized form about the same age as organized football is in the UK In fact; the Cincinnati reds were the first professional team in 1869. The first FA cup final was in 1872.

The seasons differ. As football fans are becoming experts in the brain twisting math of promotion and relegation, here in the US April brings opening day. A day that up here in New York rarely rises above 45 degrees and completely blows the myth that baseball is a balmy sport played in the midsummer heat. Around the time that City are bowing gracefully out of the Carling cup the baseball postseason begins. The playoffs are arguably the most exciting aspect of either sport (although I’m sure we'll all agree that it's more fun to win the thing outright). playoffs are obligatory in US sport. They certainly spice up the end of any season but I would be a bit freaked out if my team won the division, sitting on top of the league only to find that we had to go and play again for the chance to play for the title (But then as a Mets fan, that’s not a common occurrence). It's a bit like ending the football season and putting the top eight into the sixth round of the cup.

No relegation. As they say in New York "don’t even go there". That's great news for us Mets fans as it means that it can never happen to us. I do not want to talk about this, it's hard enough to even write the word but it's true. No relegation in American sport. Weird?
Americans seem much more able to transfer their allegiance. I know lots of people who have moved from place to place and whilst holding a soft spot for their 'home' team they are able to aggressively support their 'new' team. Now I do have a weak spot for Bristol Rovers (if only because they made me grateful for City's first division mediocrity back in the mid nineties) but nothing, ever, not ever would question my passion for all things yellow and green. I've lived over a third of my life away from Norfolk but changing teams? Not gonna happen.
Along side the whole baseball thing you can spend the winter months following a football team. I don't really do this although if push came to absolute shove I guess I would have to root for the Jets (rhymes with Mets you see).
It's agreeable enough to watch this stuff on a Sunday afternoon and I recently found myself watching a whole Saturday of college football and sort of understanding and enjoying it but as a man who puts rugby quite a way down his list of sport to watch and play (bowling is higher) It's unlikely that this game will ever hook me.
Hockey? Clueless, although it’s an invasion game with goalies and strikers and all that but my heart has been lost to baseball.
Basketball is incredibly fast and exciting and it's certainly the game that you will see most of when you wander the neighborhoods of this city. I do have a passing interest but no, it's proper football then baseball.
The singing at ball games, whilst fun can be a bit lacking in the lyrics department. Most teams will have something along the lines of "Let’s Go Mets" (replace team names as appropriate) There is quite a bit of banter as there is no segregation at games. I recently watched game 6 of the American league championship in the bleachers at Yankee stadium. I hate the Yankees and was rooting for the RedSox but I had to keep my sweet little mouth tight shut. The banter/abuse that was being dished out to RedSox fans was pretty funny but all the same I'm glad it wasn’t me getting the treatment. I do yearn for a sweet rendition of 'On the ball City' or even 'If I had the wings of a sparrow'. I have been known to intimidate others. Once at Yankee stadium (I don’t know, I just seem to end up there) I was watching the Baltimore Orieles with a friend. We were so loud in our support for the Orieles that we actually managed to scare some Yankee fans away. A proud moment, almost as proud as the time I single handedly started a chorus of "On the ball city" at Highbury back in the days of the old clock end and when it was still called Highbury.
The food at an American ballpark is pretty bad. For a nation that prides itself on the ability to eat really bad food really well the sporting event is the place to be. I'm not talking about the tailgating that goes on when people get out the grills and roast half a cow before a football game. I would like some of that, no, I'm talking about dodgy hotdogs, cotton candy and pissy, overpriced beer (although another moment of some pride involves getting a beer vendor to spot me in a crowded Shea stadium at 100 yards. Yes, he was 100 yards away and he saw me waving madly and came right over to satisfy my thirst). Now listen, no one would ever drag me to an English league ground for a romantic meal with one, obvious exception( thanks Delia) and at least you can get a bit beered up inside an American sports event but then again an American sports event can last for 3 or 4 hours and has lots of breaks during which you can go pee or buy more beer. A football game has one break during which time your fellow fans are also trying to use the loo or buy food, I've never really understood the desperate need for a pint of warm draught flow Courage beer during the 15 minutes of half time underneath the Barclay. I once saw a chap trying to enter the upper Barclay with his gal. They were holding pints. They were turned away. I don't suppose that would happen at a rugby match. Norwich is full of truly delightful pubs (and some even have tellys so you can watch results and highlights), why not wait an hour and get a decent pint in a comfortable atmosphere?
So there are some cultural differences and many similarities between the two countries. It has to be said that both places do love their sport and take it very seriously. The fans (that's us) provide as much of the amusement and spectacle as the teams.
One final thought.
I think it comes down to hats and scarves.
Baseball caps have been fashionable in the UK for a few years now but they aren't really traditional football gear. On the other hand I can't see Americans getting into scarves as a token of allegiance. When push comes to shove I think it's all about hats and scarves. That's why, on a chilly day in Brooklyn I can be found sporting both a city scarf and a Mets cap

random thoughts from a random doubter.

It's time to put sentimental things aside and update you, my blog faithful on what i've been up to in the last few days.
*Coming to terms with the impending relegation of my beloved 'City'
*Hoity toitying about Manhattan last Sunday thus causing a tremendous sense of fatigue on Monday.
*Becoming more and more of a delicious misanthrope just in time for spring to burst forth and for me to return to being a delighted spectator of all things human and their silly little ways.
*Reading blogs every other day, That way I get less disapointed when bloggers don't update every thirty seconds.
* Reading a rather marvellous book about cricket. It's "The Art of Captaincy" by Mike Brearley. It should really be called "Cricket, the human soul and how to rule the world by being really super nice".
* Slightly disapointed that North America doesn't play, understand or even televise cricket.
* Considering a move to India or South Africa where much cricket would be played, understood and televised, constantly.
*Discounting Australia and New Zealand from the list of Cricketing nations I wouldn't mind living in as the former is annoying and the latter is just a bit too far away (although delightful I'm told).
* Wondering if I'll get a game in this summer when I visit England.
*Realising it's time for me to tidy up and make my way into the glorious third part of the day. It's the bit where the kids have gone and I can actually get stuff done. By stuff I mean sneaking off to the movie theatre to watch "Downfall". More often than not this part of the day is full of meetings or work which tends to cramp the glorious nature of it. Today I reclaim my fun time.

England, my England.

Me and the wife just took a crazy and spontaneous long weekend trip to England. Just so you know it's not all about fox hunting, bigotry and violence I enclose a few pictures from one of our delightful strolls through the landscape of my childhood. Enjoy.

Abbey

Abbey
Originally uploaded by bowles.

Just imagine walking along this path in the 1400's and seeing the two towers of the abbey. That's how you'd know that you were getting close to Wymondham with all it's inns and it's market and political dissent.

Abbey meadow

Abbey meadow
Originally uploaded by bowles.

A little view of the old part of town beyond the abbey.

Wicklewood rise

Wicklewood rise
Originally uploaded by bowles.

This is one of my favourite views, the clear line of the field against the crispy cold sky, ahhh.

estate path

estate path
Originally uploaded by bowles.

The secret path to a world of snow, mud and adventure, just along the end there, on the left, through the gate.

muddy path

muddy path
Originally uploaded by bowles.

The path at the bottom of the Tiffey valley.

ermmm...

Sometimes when I'm a little bit drunk I interview myself.
I have to be alone.

thebigball

It's time to welcome another new blog (linked at the bottom). This is Henry from across the harbor in Jersey. It's got to be said that not a great deal has happened yet on 'thebigball' but it's got a great title and lots of potential. As for Henry? He's a good man and I should know, he's on my netflix friends list and I spent most of a Saturday morning at the car pound waiting for the release of his honda civic. I don't do that for just anyone.
To be honest, I'd have a glance and see what you think, then return to it in a few days. I started out with awkward fumblings about playing golf and facial hair yet rose to become the best blog in the entire world with 'Walter Mondale' in it's title.

book learning

In January 2004 I made the only NYresolution that has actually worked. I resolved to either read a book from cover to cover and enjoy it or put the thing down and choose another. No more literary sluttery. I was tired of the pile of books beside the bed. I was tired of not really remembering the books that I had 'read'. I was feeling cheap and used, washed up and adulterous.
So just over a year ago I changed course. It worked. Now I have another problem, (the path of the righteous is never easy). I am approaching the end of a great book "Armageddon" by Max Hastings. I am trying to think ahead about what I should read next. I have read non stop since the age of six. I always face this curious dilemma. Elizabeth has suggested "Testament of Youth" by Vera Brittan. We both agreed that after reading an account of the Allied destruction of the Third Reich I should lighten up a bit. Perhaps I'll read a detective novel set in Botswana? I liked the sound of "The God of small things" until I looked closer. I need Bowles appropriate stuff, light but thoughtful. I've just trudged across Western Europe and defeated the nazis.
Any ideas? recommendations?

fridays are cool.

Fridays can be great. Within a single ten minute period Listmaker and I
experienced the following.
*I ruined his birthday gift surprise (twice in as many years that i have done
this).
*I almost made him cry.
*He almost cried in front of me.
*I told him that if he cried in front of me I'd have to hit him.
*He assumed that Weasel is an uptight New Englander "He's English and lives
in New England"
*He assumed that I was an anti semite because I'm not a huge Larry David fan
(Seinfeld yes, Curb your enthusiasm umm, maybe).
*He admitted to being a crap jew (as in not that knowledgable or practising,
not crap as in worthless or horrid)

There then followed a bizarre moment where, inspired by a Rufus Wainwright
dvd we argued in favour of flamboyant gayness, asthetic decadance and
charming brilliance, should either of us ever actually become gay.
This is unlikely.
We both then got wierded out.

Later in the day two kids constructed a tower of dictionaries which rested upon a base of dominoes. Fantastic!

Pat Kiernan! Pat Kiernan!

So if I write about everyone's favourite Canadian anchor do you think he'll comment on my blog?

Walter Mondale.

Does Walter Mondale ever read this site?
If he does I'd be delighted to know.
All the best,
Bowles.

The gathering clouds.

They say a Nor'easter is on it's way.
I'm reading a terrific book about WW2 ('Armageddon' by Max Hastings).
I've just netflixed all the 'Band of Brothers' dvds.
Mayhew is in town over the weekend (but fortunately he has no need to do any 'sights')
Just had a load of firewood delivered.
It's pretty safe to say that I'm going nowhere for a day or two.
I do love a good winter storm!

Oh Janus.

God of openings and doorways.
Patron of entrances and beginnings.
First month of the year, Janus. You have been with us for seventeen days and during that time I have had some cautious sensations regarding the dawn of 2005.
On Saturday a little part of me came to terms with the prospect of relegation. I know, this is just sport, not life and death but it is something that I fear I will have to embrace come May. I watched Norwich get beaten by Aston Villa 3-0. We were taken apart, ever so nicely, and left by the wayside.
You see, I cannot write such words as these on the NYCanaries website.
That is the place for stoic loyalty and bravehearted, grim witted optimism.
I would rather wax lyrical about past glories or amusing run ins with celebrities than confront the slow, inoxerable misery of relegation.
Like the Romans of old, we curse or praise our gods depending upon the fortune they place upon us.
At this time we know not what such fortune is to be.

editing.

If you're really interested I have edited "up for the cup#2" to remove all the eastern european spellings and stuff. If so inclined scroll down to check it out. Thank you

tuesdays with gunny.

In accordance with my new editorial policy I am publishing NYCanaries articles on this site as well as at the NYCanaries home (see links on right). For biographical info about Bryan Gunn check on the title link above.
The following is reasonably true, as far as I can recall.

"In the Merchant Ivory film "The remains of the day" there is a scene where Anthony Hopkins is stuck in a village pub. He accidentally, kinda, sort of gives the locals the impression that he is on friendly terms with Winston Churchill. They make the assumptions; he is unable (at risk of seeming foolish) to dissuade them.
It's a bit like that with Bryan Gunn and me.
Of course I watched him from afar to begin with, he took over from Graham Benstead in 1986 and was part of the team that finished 4th in division one in 1987. From there on he took incremental steps to becoming one of city's greatest living heroes. A top class goalie with a human side and courage on and off the pitch that couldn't fail to warm him tightly to the proud Norfolk bosom.
So where do I fit into his story? What's Bowlesy's role in the rise and rise of Gunny?
I'll be honest; I've never hung out with him in the Jerry Seinfeld/ Keith Hernandez way. But I have had enough brush ups and run ins with this true Norfolk hero to warrant a few words on the matter.
Bryan Gunn joined the club in 1986 and soon established himself as first team goalkeeper. His place in the team was, as New Yorkers would say "a given".
Bryan continued to keep goal for city during those topsy turvy late 80's and nineties. City enjoyed their normal eclectic mixture of success and incompetence but Gunn was a constant. Nice guy, great keeper, constant.
We move forward a few years to 1994. I'm away at university so I don't get to see city play as much as I should. It's Christmas and the Bowles family have decided to bond in a mildy ironic way by visiting the panto at the Theatre Royal. This is mildy ironic because the Bowles kids are in their 20's and the panto is full of families with 9 year olds. It was the night that city were playing Forest and Gunn breaks his ankle. At half time in the panto (sorry,interval) Dad, brother Simon, brother in law to be Matt and me are all watching the TV in the bar nervously. As usual Bowles senior is cautiously pessimistic. "That's our season buggered then" as we watch Gunn stretchered off.
I wouldn't mention this except for what happened a few weeks later.
A friend of the family works in a hospital and knows nothing about football. She had a nice young man come in with a bad ankle break. She was making NHS style small talk with the patient and she asked him how he had injured himself. "Playing football," he responded. "Oh", she said, "Do you play locally?" "Yes" he responded with a cheeky grin "just done the road, Carrow road".
"That's nice, well the doctor will be along soon". And off she went, none the wiser. Just bearing in mind that at that time he was one of the most easily recognizable footballers in the country or even Europe and certainly a living god in his adopted hometown of Norwich.

Sadly the ankle break signaled the end of the high life for Gunny. He was out for the rest of the season and with a management policy involving selling off major talent city were relegated in May 1995. Gunn struggled to regain his place aginst Andy Marshall and in 1998 he was sold back to Scotland to Hibs.
At about this time my own world was once again turning eastward. After a number of years living in the West Country, watching Bristol rovers and trekking out to such godforsaken holes such as Elm park and the County ground, Swindon to watch city once or twice a year I decided to return to Norfolk. A combination of factors drove my choice, the beaches, sailing, friends and family but most importantly I wanted to watch city play more than four times a year. In a blizzard in December 1999 I drove from Bath to Wymondham and picked up my life in the east.
I was enjoying my home town again, watching city with my newly purchased half season ticket, strolling about Norwich on the away days and generally rediscovering a quality of life I'd been missing.
Then one day, in Pizza Express on St Benedict's street, it happened.
I was in there with a couple of friends after an amusing day of wandering about the city. He was there with his wife and kids having a Saturday afternoon feast.
I have to admit I didn't really think too much about it, he was doing his dad thing, making sure the kids weren't too noisy or lary whilst attempting to enjoy a meal with his family. I thought it was pretty cool that he was in there but being a bit celebrity shy I said nothing (except to my companions who were also pretty impressed).
Did I say celebrity shy? In the next few months Bryan Gunn was to change forever my attitude towards celebrities, well, one Scottish ex city goalie in particular.
A weekend later, oh what the hell? Hungry, footsore, let's do Pizza Express.
There he is again, same time, same place. Cool.
This kept happening.
It became a little annoying.
I started to think that he was following me.
That's a pretty bold stalker you have to admit, bringing your wife and kids along. That's a brilliant cover.
I stopped frequenting Pizza Express for a while and the whole Bryan Gunn is my stalker thing died down. I was glad; no one wants a messy court case with the papers involved.

Fast forward to the early summer of 2001. It's the close season, there's no World Cup or European Championships to watch and I'm in a Wymondham pub with friends having a beer.
Suddenly from the inside of the pub a fella comes into the garden and starts yelling, "Bryan Gunn's in the pub!"
I take charge. I tell my friends,"leave this to me, I know this man and I know the way he thinks. If I'm not back in ten minutes come looking".
I stroll through to the lounge bar and there he is, tall, suntanned and, forgive me Bryan, a couple of drinks down. I approach him, glassy eyed I tell him "Bryan Gunn! You're my childhood hero!" He responds "Childhood? My god! You're making me feel really old!" and which point he grabs my right hand in a vice like grip, the kind of firm handshake you would expect from, well, Bryan Gunn. We have a small chat (I'll preserve the beauty of the moment by keeping the details from the public domain) and then he turns to another well wisher. It turns out that he's in town as part of his charity work and has found time to relax with a couple of buddies over a beer.
Hey, who's complaining?
If anyone deserves a beer it's Bryan Gunn.
I mean, I'd like to buy him a beer.
No I'd love to buy him a beer.
Wait just a minute, I'll even give him my beer.
But there is one small problem. Bryan's grip on my hand is still, well, gripping my hand.
He has turned and talked to some others yet he is still holding my hand in a firm, manly, Scottish goalkeeper type of handshake. I try politely to extricate myself from this. I grin; I use facial expressions to indicate my increasing physical discomfort. Then it comes to pass. The moment I never, ever considered would happen has to happen. I must confront Bryan Gunn and insist that he releases me from his canary death grip.
When I turn on him he acts as if he's done nothing wrong. Now as anyone who knows me will understand, the very last thing I would wish for is a scene, most of all a scene with a real life hero. I turn, grip my crippled hand and return to my friends, a broken man.

Wait, there's more, my tale is not yet done.

A few months later I get to go to Carrow road in a special capacity. Some kids from my primary school are taking part in the 'run around the track at half time thingy' that city sometimes do. It has to be said that during a particularly dull game this can prove to be the highlight of the afternoon as thousands of fans yell bloody murder at a bunch of eight year olds running relay around the perimeter track as if they were racehorses or greyhounds.
Just before half time we are guided through the city stand to meet our competitors and... Bryan Gunn. By this point, as well as being sheriff of Norwich Bryan is also a hospitality host at the club, his playing days behind him he is putting his boundless good spirits into serving both his old team and his adopted city. Our rivals that day happened to be Bryan's local primary school, He seemed to be on good terms with their teacher, he even seemed to know some of the kids. He looked at me in a mild "haven't we met before? Are you sure you're not my nemesis?" kind of way. I wasn't going to have this blatant favouritism; I hadn't driven in from the other side of Watton to have my boys out psyched like this. I remembered our encounter in the pub a few months back and tried to think of how I could come back, how I could restore the honour of my school. What could I say? What would be appropriate yet fitting, what would put my hero in his place yet still keep him as my hero? My most important thought at that moment was to motivate my charges for their run out onto the Carrow road pitch. After he'd ruffled the hair of the kids I turned to him with a grin, introduced myself, looked him in the eye, and shook his hand. This time I let go, next time? who can say?

For the record my kids lost the relay race."

This article will also be available on the NYCanaries website in a day or two.

Shock Horror!

What's worse? A 20 year old uber rich stoner lush making a dick out of himself and emabarrasing others? Or the media pretending that his behaviour actually matters?
Remember that this is the grandson of the Duke of Edinburgh. (clink on the title link above to see what I mean)

Quiz answers!!!!

At last! After weeks of careful negotiations and tearful farewells we are finally able to deliver the answers to the end of year quiz.
Category 1. Expletive deleted:The White House.

1. When was the last time that New York State went Republican in a Presidential election? 1984, the only state to go for Mondale-Ferraro was Minnesota.
2. FDR's last Vice President was born where? Harry Truman was born in Lamar, Missouri.
3. He said this in his innaugural address "Even now a rocket moves towards Mars". Who? Did you really even begin to imagine that I would leave out my favoutite all time Texan Pres called Lyndon? Did ya?
4. Jimmy Carter had 2 Secretarys of State. Who was the second? It was Edmund Muskie of Maine.
5. Two Presidents have banned the playing of 'Hail to the Chief'. Name them.
Well, this is open for discussion. Sure, Jimmy Carter banned it outright but funnily enough George W. Bush has severely limited it's playing. He feels it should only be played on profoundly formal occaisons.

Category 2 has been removed. Australian Geography? I mean, who cares?

Category 3. "Scuse me? Can you tell me where the ground is?"

(Where do the following sports teams call home?)
1. Somerset County Cricket Club? These also rans of first class cricket play at 'The County Ground' in Taunton, Somerset, UK
2. New York Mets? Shea Stadium.
3. New York Islanders? Nassau Colliseum.
4. Dinamo Bucharest? Stefan Cel Mare
5. Boston RedSox? Fenway Park, The Green Monster

Category 4. "One is closer to God in a garden".

1. Prospect Park in Brooklyn was designed by who? Olmstead & Vaux of course!
2. It's in Boston, it's next to Boston Common, It's a park. What is it called? The Public Gardens (It's got nice ducks).
3. 'Hitler's Oak' is located in which English beauty spot? (special thumbs up if you can explain the reason for the name?) It's in a place called How Hill in Norfolk. The Boardman family used to own the house and one of their sons was an olympic sailor. He won a gold medal in 1936. Adolf Hitler awarded all gold medal winners an oak tree. Boardman duly planted his in his family's back garden. It's there to this day, you have to ask a gardener to point it out, it's not like they have a big sign saying "HITLER'S OAK". It makes you wonder if Jesse Owens ever got one.
4. Columbus Circle stands at the entrance to which New York public space? Central Park.
5. There is a park in Munich that should appeal to me. Name it. The Englisher Garten. I've never been but a Munich friend of mine has often told me that I should.

Category 5. Bricks and mortar .

1. The Brooklyn Bridge became the tallest building in the world in which year? In 1883.
2. Which building took the title three years later? The Eiffel Tower.
3. Who designed and 'built' the Clifton Suspension bridge? Isambard Kingdom Brunel . (If anyone can get their hands on the Cosgrove Hall animated musical version of Brunel's life entitled IKB I would love to know.)
4. He designed the pyramids at The Louvre. Name him. I.M.Pei
5. What's the tallest building in the world? Right now it's the one on Taipei.

Category 6. Lyrics.

Name the artist.
1. "I got me a fearless heart". Steve Earle.
2. "To live in the hearts of of those he loved is not to die". Badly Drawn Boy.
3. "Don't take any wooden nickels when you sell your soul". Eels.
4. "She worked at fifteen clubs a day". The Beatles.
5. " If it's good enough for you" Dodgy.

Category 7. Poets.

Name the poets.
1. Dead Englishman who lived in New York during WW2. His friend's memories inspired the Broadway show 'Cabaret'. W.H.Auden
2. This dead UK Poet Laureate apparently bore more than a passing resemblance to my father. Ted Hughes.
3. Living London poet, wrote the children's classic 'Chocolate cake'. Michael Rosen.
4. Dead American with a dysfunctional marriage to #2, suicide. Sylvia Plath.
5. A great big living hairy Aussie poet, first name 'is more'. Les Murray.
If you don't do so already for god's sake read more poetry.

Category 8. Movies.

Name the movies.
1. Two British blokes climb up a mountain in Peru. They both come down again but in freakishly differing circumstances. "Touching the void"
2. Probably one of my favourite movies ever. Australian sporting comedy from the early 1980's involving "ma-ra-ju-ana" and corruption in an Aussie rules football club. "The Club" Huge thanks to Dave & Hamish for turning me onto the o.m.d where I found that this movie really does exist and was not just a figment of my imagination.
3. Robert McNamara tells all (except he doesn't) "The fog of war".
4. Clean your memories of slightly mad ex girlfriend. "Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind".
5. Matthew Broderick has to buy rare creatures for Marlon Brando. "The Freshman".

Category 9. History.

1. He became King Emperor of India on December 11th 1936. Who in the blue blazes was he? King George VI of Great Britain & her Empire & Dominions, King Emperor of India
2. She was the first ever US Senator who was not a man. Who and when? (and a great big warm, smug feeling if you can relate any of the slightly devious details about how and why she got the job). Her name was Rebecca Felton who was appointed by Gov Thomas Hardwick of Georgia. He thought that by appointing an 87 year old in late November she would have to stand down when the newly elected senator was sworn in in January 1923. The new senator duly stood aside for one day only to allow rebecca to take the oath in the Senate thus becoming, for one day only the first Female Senator.
3. Born in Takster, Tibet in 1935. Name him. (GOODBAR QUESTION!!!!!) The Dalai Lama. Well done Mr P!
4. In what year did Tom Daschle first become a US Senator? 1986.
5. The costliest day in the history of the British military. July 1st, 1916. The first day of the battle of the Somme.

Category 10. Zeitgeist.

1. Jason Alexander produced both the 'Agent Cody Banks' movies. True or False? This is true. don't ask me how I know this shit.
2. In which South American country did poor old John Peel die? Peru.
3. Norwich City chalked up their 2nd Premiership win of the 2004/05 season. Against which team? Bolton Wanderers
4. When will the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center be taken down? January 5th.
5. What's the world's largest ship? The Queen Mary II

Category 11. Bonus Philosophy round. (just think it)

1. Is the wind cold or refreshing? It does tend to depend very much upon your state of mind at the point of impact.
2. Can you handle the truth? Sadly very few of us can, unless it's of a complimentary nature. Still, it's a good thing to try and live by and an invaluable asset within a relationship.
3. If some men see things as they are and say why? and some men see things as they could be and say why not? What do the women think? As a man I will not flatter myself to even try and answer this.
4. Which is your best foot? It's really a 50/50 choice.
5. When stopping by the woods on a snowy evening do you feel beauty or fear?
Quite definately a glorious mixture of both!

There, hope you enjoyed it. Sorry the answers took so long.

Get your own blog.

It's there on the upper right hand side of the screen. It just says "Get your own blog".
I often think it's telling me to f**k off when I'm reading the blogs of others.
That makes me smile.
Something else that made me smile (as well as making me deeply jealous because I hadn't thought of it first) was handwashing's history of hair. Check it out.

Up For the Cup #2.

As good as it is I see no reason why you, oh loyal reader should have to do anymore link jumping than is absolutely nessecary. Accordingly I have reproduced my most recent NYCanaries article here in full. I've also added some additional commentary in the way that Ron Howard might add to the latest "Arrested development" dvd. (Author's commentary is in brackets)
Enjoy...
"The decorations are down, the last guests have left and the FA Cup third round is here again. A new year, new hopes, new dreams.
I like to start the new year with the third round. It allows me a few days to shake off the hangover and get the resolutions out of the way.

( The Competition actually starts in August with non league amateur teams. By November the First round proper has taken place and in the first week of january the monied teams are involved)

A few sips of coffee later, out of the cup at West Ham.

(I have no issues with West Ham, their cockney chirpiness helped us to win the war. The Germans may have dropped millions of bombs on the east end of London but they kept smiling and singing silly songs about scrap metal and old women underneath kitchen tables).

Then it started to rain.
I'll admit that I would rather survive in the Premiership than enjoy a cup run.
Even a successful one.
But just stop what you're doing and think about a cup run and what it would mean for Norfolk.
There's something a little special about it, the media frenzy, the newspapers going crazy, 'Look East' running around like a headless coot looking for celebrity Norwich fans, perhaps Stephen Fry? Brittany Spears? That bloke who plays Percy Weasley in the Harry Potter movies? The national media being oh so mildly patronizing about the plucky East Anglians. Football Focus doing a special from Gentleman's walk? The team making a Cup Final song with Cathy Dennis? Special trains laid on, Norwich airport full of yellow and green cup final flights ,courtesy of Air Cymru. The EDP 36 page full colour supplement.

(Look East is the local TV News show, nightly at 6.30. They tell you all about teenage road death and lost or amusing pets, The EDP is the local newspaper, the same thing really but with a greater emphasis upon medical negligence and agricultural accidents. Football Focus is the national, long running, Saturday morning football special.)

Alright so we're out, again.
But I still love the cup. Always have, and always will. It's the one thing that we have never won that I think we should have won (I think our best chance was in 1989) and the one thing that I would dearly love to see us win.
The'Cup' has a funny effect on me. I like to think that I'm a fairly liberal, modern thinking sort of bloke, making my way through a troubled and difficult world.
Yet whenever the FA Cup is mentioned I get all misty eyed and start reminiscing about a time that I know nothing about. I start thinking about King George VI, sitting there at the Empire Stadium, Wembley, chainsmoking his way through a game played between two brylcreemed teams. I start to yearn for a time when everyone knew the words to "abide with me" and bloody well sang them.

('Abide with me' is a famous hymn which is sung before every Cup Final. People only know the first few lines "Abide with me, fast falls the eventide, The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide etc etc ..." I recently found the entire hymn published in a book. It's a tragically depressing hymn about death! Still, can you even begin to imagine a Godsong being sung prior to the Superbowl or a World series game? Yet here I am, an old fashioned church & state liberal lamenting the fact that the modern generation has forgotten the words to this sturdy old hymn).

That's probably why I love the cup more than any other tournament. It's the connection between the past and the now. I've watched every cup final since 1981 bar 1988 when I had to work the afternoon shift in Merv's hot bread kitchen in Wymondham and 2003 when I was unable to get the telly to work here in New York. (I then set to thinking about how many football games I have ever watched, don't try this, it hurts!)
I actually went to the cup final in 1987 and was lucky enough to be stood at the Coventry end as they beat Spurs 3-2. I still regard Cup Final day as the holiest day of the year.
The cup has given me memories and myth that fuels my passion for the game. In my lifetime alone I can recall Ricky Villa's goal against Manchester City in '81, Chas n' Dave making fantastic cup final songs for the cup-tastic Spurs team of 81 &82. Brighton so nearly upsetting Manchester United in '83 and of course, Coventry beating Spurs and then, a year later Wimbledon beating one of the greatest sides of the modern era, the 1988 Liverpool. I could go on.
Even before my time there is the myth. The myth handed down to me by the older generation, Bert Trautmann's neck, Charlie George's goal and of course our glorious if ultimately doomed 1959 cup run.

(My Dad, who was there, is working on his account of the 1959 Cup Run. Although lots of things have been published about it there exists no decent website. What really freaks me out is that some of the '59 generation are actually starting to die. Their story must be told).

So you see, I love the FA Cup. Trouble is, she just doesn't seem to love me. You would think that with all the words written in respect of the egalitarian nature of the competiton that it would be right up our street. I must admit that Exeter's exploits at Old Trafford this afternoon ended any sorrow I felt about our exit at Upton Park.
It's just one of those little things that makes me quietly proud to be English.
I suppose it's just like so many other things, take politics for example. The US constitution gives you the impression that anyone born a citizen of the United States can become President. Yet it's always a millionaire middle class white guy who gets the job.
Same thing with the FA Cup.
In theory anyone, as long as they are members of the Football Association can enter the tournament and, with luck, skill and judgement lift the famous trophy in May. Then Marlon Harewood pops up in the 81st minute and messes up everything."

(The article in it's original form can still be read at NYCanaries.com , link at right.)

straight talkin, hip shootin, man of the people type stuff

If you care to follow the NYCanaries link on the right of this page you will find "He's big, he's bold, he's Bowlesy"
It's where I do my duty by the old country and write an occaisonal 'man of the people' style article about football.
This one is about the FA Cup.
You should also check out the 'Maine man' articles by my dear old chum Wisdom Weasel.

Selective memory

I really can't explain why 2005 has put such a kiabosh on my blogging. I tried to put the quiz answers up over the weekend and became so easily distracted that the whole thing just fell apart in an admirably clumsy way.
I think it may be due to mild work related pressures and a new years resolution to do something well if it's to be done at all.
Just another thought. Does anyone else read memoirs and autobiographies and seek out crucial dates within them to see what records the subject kept? I wonder what Noel Coward was thinking the day they bombed Nagasaki? What did LBJ report the day England won the world cup? I always get a bit annoyed if my expectations are not met, if these poeple whose lives I have taken the time to read about are not as obsessed with the annihilation of Japan or Geoff Hurst's hatrick as I am.
Then I read over some of my blogging for the past few weeks (or complete lack of it) and I have no published thought towards the crisis in Southern Asia (this entry doesnt count as I'm reporting the fact that I have made no entry). I suppose that if anyone is reading this in thirty or forty years time they may well be upset with me. I feel better now. I feel empathy.

The hour of lead

I've not written for ages and about that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I have neglected too many people. There are no excuses apart from the fact that one cannot be expected to bulldoze through life without rest. I shall publish quiz answers over the weekend and who knows, maybe this is the first of a flurry of new entries, falling upon you like snow. I am tired and just as they give me the most joy, people also give me the most fatigue (There are the exceptions, you know who you are). I just feel like i need a rest from 'other' people. The people who fill my days with stuff I don't need. Being the optimist that I am I shall soon be up and about and publishing more stuff for you'all.

Ethical behaviour and the Kennedy administration.

This is a true story and also a playground fable.
A colleague and a good friend of mine who writes a blog entitled 'L*******r' but who shall remain anonymous.
I was on yard with this person and the other third grade teacher. He went into violent spasms and started grabbing his thigh. I thought he had leg cramp and wandered over to offer assistance. It wasn't leg cramp it was arse cramp or butt strain or arse strain or butt cramp or whatever the hell you want to call it. He was in real agony and was hopping about. I was laughing quite a bit. Two girls came over and asked him if he was OK. We lied and said he was. This reminded me of how the public had to be kept away from the truth regarding JFK's illnesses and adultery. We kind of lied to the kids to protect the image of "Mr X". If they knew that he suffered from arse cramp it might damage his credibility as a premium third grade teacher who used to live with Balgavy.

Listmaker.

Sometimes I wonder if I should get out more. Sometimes I wonder if I should read fewer blogs. Recently I was in a book store , pondering the wares when I turned away. I decided that it was too close to Christmas for me to be spending money on myself but also, slightly scarily perhaps, I knew that I had not checked into the range of blogs that I usually read. This doesnt bother me. If it did I would not be here, doing this. I just found it curious. Today I was terribly busy. I wasn't even able to check any emails until 2.30pm let alone read blogs. I was only able to look at a few after I'd injured my back carrying a large Christmas tree three blocks and two flights into our apartment. I missed them. I missed the tibits of gossip and human interest that I so enjoy reading about. I missed the cultural and political viewpoints.
I was going to write about Listmaker but my back hurts and I'm going to stop now. Without wishing to turn this into a lovefest for other people's blogs Listmaker is rather marvellous.

He's back!

A few months ago we mourned the demise of "World of Stelfox". This pre-Mondale blog from the House of Dave told us lots of things about foxes, music that we'd never heard of and recipes for a better life (nutritional and inspirational).
Dave is back! I've loved this man since he helped himself to my lunch back in 1989 and am delighted that he has returned to blogworld.
Check out Breaking Ranks. Lots of music and pictures, lovely.

Goodbar!

And the winner is.... Jamie Paquette of Brooklyn, NY.
There's a Hershy's Goodbar on it's way to you.
I'll publish all the answers in a week or three.

Links Nouveau.

Look right and you'll see a couple of new links. 'Fightin words' is a new forum for the rambunctious opinions of messers Flood and Paquette concerning weltpolitik, ostpolitik and realpolitik. Enjoy.
I'm also attempting to link to Mr Flood's mighty fine 'Whiskey Drinker' blog. This has been proving somewhat problematic as the link I set upwent directly to a Bible studies site. I'm doing my best and I hope the irony of this is not lost on anyone (least of all, I suspect, the God fearing Mr Flood). The problem is now solved (I couldn't let it go, I thought it might be a sign).
'Unwellness' is the everyday story of Library folk and is hosted by our favourite school Librarian Ms S****. Certainly worth a good look.

Monday, December 13th, 2004.

The fantasmagorical Random Doubts of Walter Mondale Yuletide quiz 2004 will be launched on Monday, December 13th at 8.15am.
55 questions of intense mentalicity.
1 candy bar question.
5 questions to test your faith.
See you Monday!

Forthcoming attraction

Right, It's been busy here at Bowles Towers and I'm afraid to say that I haven't been paying as much attention to our favourite former Vice President/Victim of massive landslide election victory for the gipper.
Fear not, the innaugaral 'nifty fifty/some questions to make you think/the search for fifty answers/that'll be a quiz then/bumper Christmas bonanza of brainteasing knowledge and fun' quiz will be published upon these pages in the next few days.
Those of you who read these pages during the summer will recall my previous attempt at messin with your mind (July 2004).
This will be like that but bigger.
Usual rules apply, no prizes except for genuinely amusing interpretations and they get a Goodbar from Hershys in the post.

Zest.

When I was growing up I sailed. Along with family and friends I raced sailing dinghys on the Norfolk Broads. This has bred in me a passion for sailing. I thirst for the water and for a 'burn'.
Sailing has taught me stuff and nearly killed me more than once. It has provided me with a collection of salty tales and ripping yarns, it has given me sunburn and backache and, perhaps most importantly it's given me loads of really top friends.
It can be quite an expensive hobby but my Dad didn't let mere economics get in the way. Just as some people look out for cheap flights to the sun or second hand cars my father spent much of the 1980's

My Boat
Originally uploaded by bowles.

scouring the small ads and boat auctions for bargains. Sometimes he'd return home with a wreck, a real heap. He'd tow it up to Tony's shed or Mr Richardson's pig barn and after a few weeks or months and some paint, varnish and love he'd brought back a little bit of dignity to an otherwise squandered boat, ready for one more summer of sailing.
I can't quite remember how or when 'Zest' came into our lives although I would hazard a guess that it was some time around 1986. Having progressed from childlike 'safe' boats my brother and I were ready for a bit of a challenge. That's where 'Zest' came in.
She was an Enterprise class sailing dinghy, about 18 feet long and made of wood. Probably about 35 years old at the time. Years before the internet revolution Enterprises were known as 'e-boxes' as a result of their hollow hull which was kept bouyant wth the use of airbags, theses inevitably deflated but this didnt matter unless you capsized, then the whole boat would sink. And you would be left regretting the fact that you hadn't blown up the bleedin airbags.
Another marvellous aspect of sailing an e-box was the "death-roll".
Not easy to explain but it's essentially thus, The wind is strong and is coming over your stern, you are running downwind when for some reason of design your e-box starts rolling violently from side to side. Instantly requiring vigorous efforts on behalf of the crew to keep the bloody thing upright.
Not many dull moments as any e-box sailor will testify.
So what made 'Zest' special?
A few things, she was a gorgeous looking boat, nice plywood varnished deck (with a "nuclear power?No thanks" sticker placed prominently on the foredeck). She gave my brother and I something in common during those awkward teenage years. She was fast. I mean fast, shit off a shovel fast.
And I loved her. Still do.

Zest represents another time, she was old when we got her so she already had a story and a past, we just added to that in our own slightly dotty (yet pretty fuckin fast) way.
Now i know that the world moves on and I'm glad it does, I'm glad I'm no longer a spotty 14 year old bickering with my brother about boatspeed or pointing. I have the fondest of memories of 'Zest' (look, we didnt choose the name but it fitted anyway, Had we chosen a name it would have been something that wouldon't have stood the test of time like 'Morrissey' or 'HMS Bill Shankley' and I wouldn't have loved the boat as much and I wouldn't be feeling like this or writing this ). Eventually , with time passing we sold her onto a good friend. He assured us that if he ever sold it on we'd get first refusal.

Today I saw this on a sailing website:
Enterprise 5563
Wood,built by Smallcraft Southampton. Danube blue outer hull. Aluminium spars, bax sails, launching trolley, cover. Contact Mark Turner on 01603 7#####. cash offers.

Mark, it's not your fault. You're a good man and you are only doing what's right. But I have to admit that a little bit of my childhood just died. I hope that someone really cool and nice and friendly gets as much fun out of 'Zest' as we did. I hope that whoever sails her has the same sideways view of the world as we have (and as Mark has) and I hope that that fabulously 1980's nuclear power sticker is still stuck to the foredeck!

nb: The picture is not 'Zest' just another boat of the same'e-box' class.

I love my job.

Do you ever goof off at work? Ever mess about and just act silly? This afternoon listmaker and I took on a bunch of third graders in an impromptu basketball game. We lost. Just goes to show that the much quoted "height advantage" mattered not when faced with 11 nine year olds screaming at you and jumping around in your face.
Just a thought.

the man.

the man.
Originally uploaded by bowles.

Maestra just taught me how to put pictures up. take a long hard look at this, it's probably going to be here for a very long time.

Hero.

I guess I'm at that age where heroes should cease to exist. life has treated me well and I'm happy to be who I am and where I am but I can see the cracks and the holes and I am sad to admit that I can see that some folk have hearts blackened by hatred or despair.
But I'm an optimist.
I do still have heroes.
I dont folow them blindly but I do think about them and admire them. Some are dead. Some are still creating great music. Some are Welsh. Some are playing for Norwich City. Some are baseball players. Some are real people who I actually know. Some are politicians but i'm pretty sceptical about them. I have met one or two of them and have always been dissapointed, that's why, unless they came up to me, I would try and avoid them.
But I like the fact that there are people out there, who, by virtue of what they do, inspire me. They delight me. They provoke thought and discussion. I laugh at them and I laugh with them. Some of them are quite unusual choices. Some of them have been misunderstood by history.
But to me that's OK.
I should go now. I'll wander off along 7th Avenue and dream about bumping into Steve Earle.

From cradle to grave.

A lot has been said over the past few weeks about the direction we need to move in, as democrats, in order to reclaim some optimism about the future.
I was recently involved in a drunken conversation with two Republican voters, their take was that they are social liberals but fiscal conservatives. I got to thinking today how that works. I came to a conclusion. It doesn't.
It's so easy to waste breath complaining that liberals raise taxes and throw money at social problems. I think it's pretty simple and I look at history for some inspiration. Laissez faire economics has led the way in creating individuals of great wealth. Now I like money and I do OK but there has to be questions asked when the weakest members of any society are left to rot. I know that there are some bums out there who bring their own decay upon themselves but I refuse to accept that the vast majority of those who remain marginalised by the material demands of modern society are at ease with their circumstances.
I come from a society that has had it's shining moment, a time just after World War Two when Clem Atlee's Labour government created the National Health Service. "To provide care fom the cradle to the grave". I am not going to claim that this creation, born out of a socialist belief in equality is a perfect system, it's got cracks and leaks and funding problems and , in it's 56th year it has an incredible task ahead of it just to tread water. The simple fact is this, it provides a level of care, free at the point of delivery for all citizens. It's not perfect and yes, Denmark has a better one, as does Holland, Sweden and any number of European countries. It's simpler to make a system work by taxing at a higher rate and when working with a smaller, more homogenous population.
My point?
The Conservatives (be they British, American or Swedish, whatever) would never have put such a system in place. It's highly doubtful that the current Labour admininstration would have done so. The late Barbara Castle, a Labour MP in 1945 said, shortly before her recent death that there was no way that a modern left wing government could afford such a measure. All I can say is that I'm proud and relieved that Atlee's historic government of 1945 found the means, both emotional and practical to engage in such a feat.
I look back even further, the New deal here in the states, embarked upon by the closest thing America has ever seen to a socialist administration. The New Deal was subsequently dimantled, piecemeal by the Administrations of Eisenhower, Nixon, Ford, Reagan and Bush.
National insurance, unemployment relief, old age pensions. All brought about by Asquith's Liberal government at the beginning of the twentieth century. Opposed by conservatives across the board who still believed that government should be based upon the Protestant work ethic ,"The harder you work, the closer you are to God" accordingly, any n'er do wells or blackguard layabouts should perish in sight of God, they will not work, he will not protect them, Why should we?
These measures and others like them are now being seen as props to a lazy underclass. Stand up! Be a man! That is the mesage of conservatism, always has been, always will be.
Abortion? Let's strangle funding of this "socially liberal" measure with our fiscally conservative good sense. Trust me, Abortion is no choice or convenient way out when it comes knocking at your door (or the door of your partner or daughter). But that's OK because the time may well come when entire states block this desperate option, sure, you can travel to another state (or nation?) where you will face additional expense for your treatment.
End result? Do the math. The poor lose out.
The key point is this, we must fight to maintain a sense of progress. We must tackle the forces of conservatism at every turn and wherever we find them. Conservatives have never given anything up without a long, hard fight. If that means direct politcal action or just giving conservatives some pause for thought next time you are out drinking, do not give up . Let them know you exist, Let them know that you, and millions like you care.
Billy Bragg once sang the words "In the name of humanity, battered and torn." We are battered and torn, always have been, always will be. But we are stronger than they realise.
The struggle continues.

it's a marathon, not a sprint

Hallelujah! Saints be praised! And see, come, look upon my people and rejoice!
Norwich city have finally won a game in the Premiership!
Whilst I slept the good sleep of a man five margeritas to the worse my boys done good.
Norwich City 2. Southampton 1.
I am happy.
The future has just become a slightly better place.
Thank you.

The Prince of days.

As you, my loyal reader will no doubt be aware, I, Random Doubt aka Bowles live within a mediaeval level of superstition. That's why writing this and entitling it "The prince of days " is bound to blow up in my face.
Just a couple of prompts that have made me write.
Wisdom weasel has been running a History Friday piece for a number of months. But I got him now! Today is the 88th anniversary of the end of the Battle of the Somme, arguably the costliest encounter in British military history. After 5 months of killing, the British generals decided to call off the assault having gained about 6 feet of French mud. That's a flippant and horribly generalised summary but this is a blog. You want to understand? Read a book.
Apes (well,the shrewdness of) threw in a Bill Hicks reference. I read this earlier this morning (as part of a wider piece about drugs). My opinions regarding the late Bill Hicks are nobody's business but my own but I did laugh when I read what was written. I laughed and I felt better about the world.
Finally, Listmaker claims that only one of his co workers follows the show "The amazing race" and that she is a girl. Dude, I'm not a girl. And sometimes a show can be brilliant purely because people just run around and yell at each other.
And the anonymous who asked me to write new stuff? Feast on this.
Oh, Thursdays are , and have been for some time, my favourite day of the week. That's something for another time.

It's about time.

At last!
I've managed to negotiate the vast complexities of linking to other sites!
Please, if you're not alreday familiar with the wonderful stuff that's out there go ahead and take a look.
Enjoy.
And big thanks to the northern Dan (Wisdom Weasel) for sending me the info.
Cheers.
Bowles.

A moderate's response.

I am proud of the previous entry. I am proud to be able to rant from time to time. However I am not going to allow the Bush/Cheney junta to give me a heart attack. I am going out tonight to meet with friends and drink far, far too much. Tomorrow i shall sit about and read a novel about fancy people doing fancy things a long time ago. I am not abdicating from the struggle, merely taking a day off.
I shall drink tea and consider giving up a number of my favourite vices. I shall play with our elderly cat and be silly and daft with my lovely wife.
The sun will shine, I will go to the Library. I will borrow Bill Clinton's memoirs (Nooo, give it up man!)

Don't push me.

This is written in response to the Bush voters.
I have a calm soul and pride myself in being a bit of a gentle spirit. I try to pass through this life with a benevolent air. This does not mean that I feel no pain, this does not mean that I am immune to anger or fierce, irrational emotions. Please, don't push me.
I cannot recall a time when I or so many of my nearest and dearest have been so upset by a man and his vision. The events of November 2nd have clarified this, there are some small, positive aspects but it's mostly worry, concern and fear. Republicans and their allies must understand this and they must understand that we will never give up our strongly held views just because "it's all over now and we should all heal and unite".
I oppose the republican agenda, pretty much always have and i hope to god (yes, look, I believe in god too, a good liberal god who cares not if you are rich, poor, gay or straight, etc , etc.) that I always will.
Yes, you're right, this is a rant. A great big , pissed off, emotional, unstable rant. I've just read so much over the past few days and have become so proud of my friends and their opinions, of so many beautiful people. It's just a shame that their eyes are clouded by sorrow right now.
Our time will come, but not without a fight.
Get to it.
My predictions? Within 2 years there will be a draft, either directly or by making a military sponsored education so damn attractive as to become the only real option for many. Nice idea, get a degree and if you live through your tour you get to use it.
When they are calling up 47 year old reservists from Brooklyn the bottom of the barrel has got to be pretty close.
That's it, i'm gone.

say it aint so.

Or, as that other type of republican, Oliver Cromwell was once heard to utter
"I beseech you in the bowels of christ, think it possible that you may be mistaken."
As we hang in limbo it may not be that easy to find a lighter note but I will try. Here is some genuine satire from a Brooklyn third grader.

"When George W. Bush became president my class went to Canada to escape him. I invited my parents and my sister. We brought our winter clothes and anti Bush signs. Bush's politics explained nothing but his love for monkeys and how he thought mice should be the congressmen. We thought a bread box would be a better president. Bush was running against the breadbox. Everyone voted for the breadbox but Bush said "recount" and stole the election. He went kind of mad so we decided to move to Canada for 4 years. We all got along so well with Michael Moore. We had to live in igloos."

Stay lucky.

A real pisser.

John Peel died today in Peru. He was with his wife. He was doing some radio or TV work. He was 65.
John Peel introduced me to all the music that was ever cool and a good deal of the music that was absolutely fucking awful. His late night BBC shows were the staple of my teenage years and beyond and in recent times if I was driving late at night in England I'd nearly always tune into his show partly out of nostalgia and partly just to see what the old nutter was playing today. (I decline to mention his Saturday morning 'Home Truths' family therapy show which had me diving across the bed to change the radio dial).
I remember hanging out with Dave Stelfox listening to the Peel show or spending an evening listening to music reccommended by or inspired by the show or the man. Then I'd drive home, listening to some amazing piece of crap that he'd dragged in from East Germany or something. Still, what can you do?
He was the cool uncle that many people didn't have. He was absent minded and friendly, plenty of friends of mine have bumped into him at obscure gigs and had a pint with him. I saw him once at a music festival in Norwich in the early 90's but didnt speak to him (my celebrityphobia was developing even then).
He was an Ipswich Town fan (which is upsetting but hey, In this moment of his death I shall absolve him). He was also only a year or two older than my father.
If I were 17 right now this would feel like the moment that Buddy Holly died. As I'm significantly older it feels sadder but perhaps less passionate. There can be a sadness when a much loved public figure dies. It's not a bad thing to stop the world for a moment and reflect in someone else's mortality.
Thanks for listening.

The Curse.

I write during game 2.
On Friday the class current event discussion focused upon THE news of the week (well, if you live in New York or Boston). The children wanted to talk about one thing and one thing only, The Red Sox beating the Yankees. One of the kids asked me if I believed in 'the curse'.
I told them this, "if you believe in the curse the curse is real. If you don't it isn't."
I was reminded of the story the explorer Benedict Allen told of meeting a shaman in the Caribbean a few years ago. You can read what you want into this but I think it covers a few bases in terms of human thought and belief processes and what the hell, I like the story.
Allen was traveling the world seeking out witchdoctors and shaman, researching pre Christian belief systems and generally speaking taking quite a few mind altering substances along the way.
He had a date with this shaman fellow and duly arrived at his home to find the man having indulged in the mind altering properties of a bottle of Johnny Walker. The explorer was annoyed and tired and decided that the whole meeting was clearly a waste of time, the so called shaman could hardly stand let alone conduct any magic.
As he was leaving, Allen was called back by the 'magician'. "Listen" he said "write the name of someone, anyone, that you want dead on this paper. I will make it happen"
Allen couldn't do it. He knew he was dealing with a drunk. He knew this was ridiculous but he also knew that there was no one that he wanted dead and that the whole question of faith, belief, of what if? Was just too inexplicable, too vague, too unscientific and he was not going to take a chance on this.
What am I trying to say?
I don't quite know, are the RedSox bringing me to the point of epiphany? Will Norwich City win a game this year? I don't know those either but what I do know is that in sport as in life, you gotta believe.

Game 6

STOP PRESS
I just found a kid in my third grade class twisting one of the Yankee chess characters out of shape. When I turned away from this wanton act of vandalism the boy dropped the 3 inch figure on the floor and trod on it. I turned a blind eye but before doing so asked him what he was doing. "Voodoo" came the reply.
If it doesnt work I'll call his parents.

DNC

Does anyone know where I can get my hands on a T shirt?
I'm going to be quite precise about this. I want one of the Tshirts that the nice folk from the DNC wear when they are out and about asking for your time "thirty seconds with me or four more years of George Bush". These shirts are red with big letters that say DNC colored liked the stars and stripes. I'm an XL.
I like the politics but perhaps more importantly I just like the shirt.

Living the dream.

"I dreamt I saw Phil Oakes last night". So sung Billy Bragg in his 1990 homage to fallen socialist idolatry "The Internationale".
I dreamt I was Johnny Damon last night. I dreamt it was the eighth inning with bases loaded. I dreamt it was postseason at Yankee stadium. I dreamt that the hopes of the good and the righteous rested upon my belocked shoulders and that
i was about to tie the game and the series. I dreamt that I dreamt about getting a haircut or shaving. The dream was good. It's the closest i'll ever come to actually playing in the postseason. I was just about to dream on when I was attacked by a mysterious killer bug inflicting it's last wish upon my sleepy flesh. I leapt out of bed, swatted about a bit, woke up Beth and eventually succumbed to a Benedryl enhanced sleep.
I was Johnny Damon, I was.

Our friends in the north

Rightyho it's that time of year again. Yankees -RedSox. This caused a mixture of delight and trauma last year and I'm sure it's going to be a similar mix in 2004. I've already yelled at the school's arch yankee (a 4th grader) and i'm gearing up for a lighter fuel send off for the jeter shirt i bought as a tourist back in 2001 (I didn't know).
The more you read the more you know. There's no hiding my support for the RedSox (certainly as far as playing the yankees goes) and i shall be avoiding certain bars which are full of pinstriped assholes getting drunk and obnoxious.
Like wisdom weasel I'm looking forward to a week of great TV and hopefully abusing/gloating over yankee fans.
( And I hate the way people assume that you're a yankee fan just cos you live here. People except my faithful B71 busdriver of course)

Mother Nature's masterpiece

I'm touched. I really am. I'm not an openly emotional sort of fellow and far less likely to fall prey to any public display of affection. This is sometimes challenged by what I have long referred to as 'mother nature's masterpeice'. A good friend.
I've talked so long about dear old Dan in Maine, up there with Jess and the dogs and I feel it's only right that I return the favour to his world of blog. He very nicely applauded this little corner of blogworld the other day and I thank him for that. Everyone should go and look at wisdomweasel. I wouldont plug him just because he's a nice man but because it's a blog I read most days and it is full of thought provoking and amusing articles.
Added to which we send each other books and stuff and share a few bizarre hobbies and argue almost as much as we laugh. He is also a fellow communist on the Huesca front. (that's NYcanaries.com to you)
I suppose I'm trying to say that good friends are fine things, Dan, feel free to slap me next time you see me for this sentimental slush what I wrote.
PS: This is not drunk blogging.

Electoral fraud

It's the day after the veep debate and I'm chatting with the third graders about the latest 'Time for kids' which has a special issue about the November election.
These kids spent much of second grade studying the fifty states so they are a wealth of information about such things. "Dick Cheney is from Wyoming. There are more sheep than people in Wyoming, that's why it has only 3 electoral college votes"
We move on, we play a math/civics game based upon the elctoral college system. One dice for George Bush, another dice for John Kerry, whoever scores highest gets the state with it's electoral vote, we add the votes up and soon we have a mock presidential race on our hands. The kids are loving this, they are bemused when California goes Republican "My aunt lives there and she's a Democrat", delighted when Texas goes Democrat "that'll NEVER happen" and appreciate that Wyoming with all it's sheep is a pretty safe bet for Mr Cheney. The tension builds as we work our way through the south, "do Florida! do Florida!"
"OK kids, Florida has 27 electoral votes because it's a densely populated state"
the dice roll, Bush takes Florida.
A voice, first just one, then a chorus.
"Recount"
I'm a little taken aback.
"Recount"
"we demand a recount"
"There was a hurricane"
"I smell foul play"
"Recount"
Under pressure from 15 third graders I roll again. And again. And again.
We endure five recounts before florida goes to John Kerry.
The lesson about electoral fraud is scheduled for next week.

The American pastime.

It's October and as the local news reminds us this means that there is baseball in The Bronx but not, alas in Queens.
As any regular reader will be aware this site has a connection with a certain Minnesotan politician and former Vice President.
Accordingly I need assistance from you, the reader.
Find out all you can about the 'Twins'. I need infromation, I need lots.
Could it be time to burn that Jeter shirt?

The next election.

As we near the end of the current electoral cycle I want to ponder great elections I have known. Being a 'Brit' it's going to be Anglo centric but what the heck? It'll be a trip down memory lane for those of you who have even the slightest clue what I'm on about and perhaps a small education for my American readers.
My earliest memory of an election would have to be Margaret Thatchers landslide of June 1983. Having just biffed the Argentine junta down in the South Atlantic the heroically unpopular premier of only a year or two earlier whipped the country into a frenzy of patriotic commie/foreigner bashing that would make the current Bush look like Howard Dean. The similarities don't end there, the opposition was led by the marvelous Michael Foot, well into his sixties and with flowing white hair, walking stick and duffle coat not to mention a passionate socialist agenda he was, alas an easy target for the Thatcherites. The Labour manifesto for that election has been described as "the longest suicide note in electoral history". What did Michael Foot say about his much mocked sartorial choice? "It was a cold day and I liked that coat".
As for personal memories of this time I was busy watching Manchester United beat Brighton in the FA cup final (British elections tend to be held in the spring or early summer) so the politics pretty much passed me by. I do remember my mother (daughter of a communist) being a bit pissed off.
In the autumn of 1984 a new kid started middle school. Matthew Salmon shuffled around the school hall at lunchtime looking for somewhere to sit. He set down next to me as I munched on my meat pie and chips with peas and lots of salad cream. I think I mumbled a brief hello. He asked me who I thought would win the upcoming US election, his money was on Walter Mondale. I got on pretty well with "salmon" after that.
By the time the British election of June 1987 came round I was an emerging teenage socialist in the most intensely annoying mould. I despised Thatcher (still do but at least I have some idea about why) and thought the answer lay with Neil Kinnock's modernizing Labour party. In rural Norfolk it was still a wee bit risky to be an out and out Labour supporter. To my knowledge in 1987 Norfolk had only one labour MP out of about eight constituencies and was very much in the grip of the old guard of shire conservatives. Another Thatcher landslide. Thanks for your help Bowles. The day after the election I was buying some candy in a store when the owner started raving to a friend about Thatcher. Thus begun the first in a long line of business boycotts based upon irregular political convictions or staff rudeness.
1990 doesn't really count but I can't not mention the passing of Thatcher's political career. I was in a politics A level class when fellow crypto socialist Helen Stayte burts into the class full of seventeen year olds shouting "she's resigned!!" After an impromptu chorus of "ding dong the bitch is gone" we all went off to find junior Tory Kelvin Rashbrook as there was a schoolwide rumour that he was in tears.
1992 gave me my first real experience of electoral politics. Up to this point it was all rather like self abuse. In the Abbey Hall, Wymondham, electoral constituency of South Norfolk on April 9th I lost my political virginity. Some years later I was talking to a colleague from Chile. She had fled the Pinochet regime and had married an Englishman. It was her first chance to vote, ever. She had expressed some bemusement about the stubby little pencil and the postcard sized ballot paper. It's a bit of an anti climax really.
Of course, being old enough to vote means you're old enough to get smashed while watching the results on TV. The country decides but the fucking country decided to keep the sodding Tories in power. A crushing blow, a real bucket of cold water thrown over the passions of political youth. Not only that but my desire to gather the news with fellow lefties meant that I'd gone to my sailing club with a few friends. The sailing club with NO TV! We huddled around a transistor radio into the early hours as the horrible truth of clutching defeat from the jaws of victory became apparent.
The next day came with a massive hangover of both electoral and beer induced proportions. I sat in the Thurne Lion in with Bookham (he of Wisdom weasel fame) and Milo and decide that the only sensible thing to do would be to get shitfaced.
At least America did something right (remember those days?)
In November of that year they elected Bill 'you know you want to' Clinton and we all loved him pretty much for eight years. (Hey, I didn't have to live with him).
Kinnock was replaced by John Smith as John Major's Government bumbled, groped and generally buggered everything up for the next five years. If you ever want an example of a fundamentally incompetent Government, ask anyone who live in the UK between 1992 and 1997. From April 10th 1992 it was clear that Labour would win the next election. It may sound like a glib statement full of the beauty of hindsight but it's still a reasonably accurate assessmen. By the spring of 1997 you could have put red rosette on a chimp and he would have won.
Let's look back to the spring of 1994. It was with real shock that we learned of John Smith's fatal heart attack in May 1994. A lot has been said about what kind of Prime Minister Smith would have been. Much, often in the form of thinly veiled attacks on his sucessor, Tony Blair. All I will say is that John Smith was a good man, an honourable and decent man and there are far too few such people in public life. I can't hypothesise about his stance on Iraq or his relationships with foreign leaders, all I can say that there are times when I miss him deeply and I wonder about what could have been.
Blair took the leadership of the Labour party after a deal was done (or not?) with Gordon Brown. He easily defeated John Prescott and Margaret Beckett and in July of 1994 it became apparent that the next Prime Minister was a schoolboy.
Let's fast forward to March 1997, John Major calls the election and the inevitable soon takes place. John Major is no longer Prime Minister, replaced by Blair who will take office just as soon as he's finished his homework. I recall seeing an interview with Major a few days before the election. Forget about Nixon in 1960, John Major looked absolutely shattered. I wondered how on earth the interview had been allowed to take place. The Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland was a living wreck. The day after the election John Major did what he loved doing most, went to a cricket match at The Oval and got a bit drunk. It was later said that the Tories had quite an easy campaign, people were reasonably friendly towards them as the public had had five years to make up it's mind and noone took them seriously anymore. It was as if the country had got drunk in 1992 and woken up with the ugly girl from the grocery store. Perhaps the memory of last time still haunted us but she had a nice personality so there's no need to be horrible about it.
It was a bloody landslide, the Tories were obliterated, reduced to a rump. It was fantastic!
The country woke to a new dawn, it was our 'velvet revolution' , the intellectual elite rather than the old money was in charge.
Much that has happened since is well documented and we can all see how office has turned Blair from the school boy into an elder statesman unrivalled in terms of global gravitas (but what about the hospitals Tony?)
So we'll be going to the polls again sometime soon, once the dust has settled from the innaugeration of rither Kerry or Bush I'll be looking east, across the Atlantic, the next one should be along soon.
I just want to mention the 2001 election. I voted Liberal. John Prescott , the deputy PM twatted a mulleted anti government protester and on election day nothing changed. I was fairly happy with that. I was especially happy that Prescott got into a fight with a right wing hill billy.
Dick Cheney's foul mouth? Give me Two jags and his left hook anytime.
Thank you for listening.

Conversations overheard by a British immigrant.

I was talking to a third grader about history.
He is a recent immigrant from India and he had a limited knowledge of American history.
I asked him if he knew anything about Indian history.
He responded that he had visited Gandhi's home when he lived in India.
An American kid next to him asked who this Gandhi guy was.
Another kid (also of Indian descent) joined in the conversation, "Gandhi got rid of the British, he did it without guns or an army".
1st Indian kid " Yeah, he just got everyone to ignore the British".
Both Indian kids " Yeah, they just ignored them".
At which point I was duly and very deliberately ignored.

Every pissing rainstorm in the Bronx has a silver lining, kind of.

I do believe in beauty. I do wake up and feel exhilirated by the new dawn. I am an eternal optimist.
But there are some things that really piss me off. Let me list the ways.
Going to Yankee Stadium annoys me, it just does. ($18)
Spending over an hour on the 4 train to get there when it should only take about 45 minutes.($2)
Pissing, miserable, soaking, demoralising rain.(free, it's rain you know)
Obnoxious Yankee fans on aforementioned 4 train.(also free yet still annoying)
Waiting for half an hour to get into the Death star in a crowd of annoying Yankee fans in the rain. (a combination of all of the above except the bit about the 4 train).
Seeing six Yankee fans turned away from the gate because they had arrived on Friday night with tickets for Sunday's game. (F*CKING PRICELESS!!!!).

This TV show makes me happy.

I was nicely adrift in a world loosed from reality then someone pinched my laptop. I've no desire to make laptop theft a repetative motif within my blogworld but it just feels like 'reality' (never a concept I was at home with) has knocked on my door.
BUT, there is hope. The British sitcom 'spaced'.
I've just watched this (two seasons, 14 episodes, some 7 hours of TV, love/joy/laughter/happiness/nostalgia/quality/humour and the rest) all the way through one of the most deliciously sun drenched, late summer breezed, idyllic september afternoons.
And do you know what? It felt great!
I promise the next time I write I will a) not mention crime and b) place a link to the spaced website.

Movie moments.

I have been carrying a torch for this man for years.
Please go and see 'Shaun of the dead'. It's got Simon Pegg in it. He was in the best TV show ever. 'Spaced'. You must see this movie.

Crime and punishment.

It's been a strange few days here at Bowles towers.
Firstly there was an outrageous breach of security which involved the theft of two laptops.
The culprits are being pursued.
They will be crushed.
The most depressing aspect is the ammount of writing that was lost, we have now learned the importance of backing up all our work but it's a bit too late.
So, in a vain attempt to recapture what was lost i'll give you a brief synopsis of the contents of my laptop.
' Parallel Universe'. This was a work in progress (hey, they were all WIP). A pseudo-Seinfeldian drift through the early morning adventures of a Brooklyn schoolteacher and his journey to work.
Also starring Dave the art teacher.
'Tom'. An affectionate portrait of my old university chum, Tom Lynn. I was enjoying this so much that I'm planning on re writing it and continuing the process with other friends.
An untitled account of my grandfather's pre war athletics career.
'Butterfly brooch'. A sure fire money spinner. This was the wife and I hoping to cull middle America with the schmaltzy tale of how we met and the ensuing romance. We are willing to cash in our happiness for the downpayment for a house.
There were other things but the four mentioned above were the ones that I'm determined to try and recreate.
As it happens we got off pretty lightly. Two laptops, that's it.

Victorian Gothic.

Sometimes I get the urge to take a sideways glance at the world and just go "aaaahhh". I am not a close the curtains and roll back into bed sort of chap but I look around and see the world spinning as normal. I am resigned to my fate, glorious and crazy as it may be. The RNC is in town, "aaaahhh". The Olympics are over, "aaaahhh". There seems to be some tennis happening in Queens, "aaaahhh". We have no netflix movies in the house, the next are due on Wednesday, "aaaahhh".
But there are positive notes. Mrs Bowles and I are embarking upon our annual 'New England, meet the family roadtrip' this Thursday.
I love roadtrips! Part of the great American dream. Load the car up with CDs, bad food and random reading material. Point the thing north and in about five hours we are in Boston and a few days later we drift down to Rhode Island and then home. In the meantime lots of eating, drinking and bonding.
On a slightly gloomier note, the long hot summer of lazy teacher fun is about to draw to a close. My brother refers to this as the "long dark weekend of the soul". Back to school.
But Hey! Britain got a bunch of medals in Athens, after a slow start we got home with something like 59 medals. Best haul since 1954.
OK, if you need more Bowles why not check out my slot on NYcanaries.com. It's a straight talking,man of the people sort of column all about soccer.

Thoughts upon a convention.

Oh my word i'm confused.
On the one hand I'm a political junkie of 25 years standing (I remember the disapointment my parents felt upon the elction of Mrs Thatcher in 1979) and I am fascinated by the prospect of a massive political event happening on my doorstep.
On the other hand I am scared by republicans. I know two who are really nice people but the others are a**holes. I resent their presence in my city almost as much as I resent their presence in your country.
The botttom line has to be this, I cannot comprehend a political system where everybody thinks,acts and votes in the same way. I admire opposition and discussion in all forms and am never happier* than when discussing questions with open minded, civil people.
I just don't see many civil, open minded republicans out there.
(You know who you are and I'm not just being polite, respect is due.)
*Actually, lots of things make me happier than hanging out with conservatives! Who am i trying to kid? Having said that I stand by my comment about there being two good republicans out there, i'll not name them, this is a liberal site after all.
More thoughts to follow.

A most unsettling situation.

I have an apology to make. There was a spelling mistake in my last entry and I have been humbled and humiliated by it's glaring presence. have i bothered to delve into my archive and rectify the situation? Nah, course not, but then, what are you gonna do?
Another matter which has come to my attention is that there are some noble bloggers out there who have included links to this site on their sites. I've tried to fill out the little links bit which sometimes appears on the right hand side of the page but I love this format so much and there's really no room for links. Accordingly, I shall tell you now who three of my favourite linksters are and how you can reach them. One has to assume that folk other than the two dans and jamies actually read this page. here goes,
http://listmaker.blogspot.com/
http://balgavy.com/apes/
http://wisdomweasel.blogspot.com/
There, I won't say any more than that, just enjoy the blogs that you, my readers write.

The Olympics.

I'm not overly concerned about the olympics. As any semi interested aprty(LOOK! GLARING AND RIDICULOUS SPELLING MISTAKE, oh the shame. See next entry for full apology.) will be aware. I'm more of a football, cricket, baseball sort of fella. I do love sailing and know an insane ammount about it but it's never really the type of sport you can watch on TV or chat about to friends, "Hey guys! Did you see Ben Ainslie crap on that Finnish laser last night?" No, it doesn't really work.
Having said all that I do enjoy the big shows such as the track events or anything where the British have even the slight chance of success. We used to win a few medals when I was a kid.
The reason for our decline? It's not about underinvestment in the nation's youth or the rise of the 11 year old couch potato. It's all to do with the cold war. Look at some of the great British Olympic heroes of the past thirty years, they all succeeded when the games were 'blighted' by some form of international boycotts. In 1980 (No USA) we won a clutch of golds. In 1984 (No USSR) we also did pretty well. Since the world has grown up and decided to get along we've been shit. Oh well, here's to curling and synchronised diving.

I'm back.

After three glorious weeks in the UK I'm back.
Jetlagged, tired but happy.
I'm going to try and get something up and running in the next couple of days but first i think that you should get those long awaited quiz answers.
Thanks to the two Dans and Jamie who, as far as I know are the only people who attempted the challenge.
Here goes.
1. Sunderland won the FA cup in 1973 beating Leeds Utd 1-0. (One of the biggest giant killing upsets in cup final history!)
2. Clark Clifford replaced Bob Mcnamara as defence sec.
3. Newcastle utd are known as "the Magpies". (Why the obsession with the Northeast?)
4. Winston Churchill's last words. (By all accounts he was bloody useless in his second term as Prime Minister.)
5. Spiro "ethnic slur" Agnew was Governor of Maryland. (Well done Baltimore Dan.)
6. Lambeth Bridge. (Nearest tube station is Pimlico on the Victoria line.)
7. U.S.Grant. (He didn't want to be President, described the White House as a jail.)
8. 14 November 1948, Charles Windsor's birthdate.
9. 9. (If you got this wrong you want bloody shootin.)
10. Freya was the Norse god of passion and beauty.
11. The 'A' train runs from the Rockaways to Inwood 207st. ( Note to Maine Dan,"Somewhere shit to somewhere overrated" is a terribly Boston RedSox sort of answer but it made me laugh.)
12. Richard Nixon's middle name was 'Milhous'.
13. President Johnson called his dog 'Little Beagle Johnson'. (Don't, I could go on all day.)
14. Ahh, my favourite hymn. This one also contains a reference to seventies funksters 'Earth , Wind and fire'. The hymn runs..."Oh Lord and master of mankind, forgive our foolish ways".
15. A great big bar of chocolate is wending it's way to Maine Dan for getting this one correct.
Lucy's nickname is 'Kitten'.
16. A growler is the name given to the smallest form of iceberg. (who would have known?)
17. A Macdonald's big mac contains 27.6 grams of protein. (I'm not making this up.)
18. Tennesse went Republican in 2000. ('nuff said.)
19. The IVY league universities are, Brown, Columbia, Cornell, Dartmouth, Harvard, Pennsylvania, Princeton and Yale..
20. Describe a recent sensation of ennui? I should imagine that taking part in quizzes in blogland should hit the spot.

Thanks to those of you who took the time and effort to have a go. I'm sorry that i was a little late in terms of answering. I shall be blogging more soon and you never know, there may even be another quiz in a month or two.