Index 2023

INDEX 2023

So, good riddance 2023, you utter shitfest of a year. Whether or not life actually does begin at 40, as the cliché would suggest, it has certainly changed a lot for me in the last 12 months. RIP Dad, I miss you every day and I will always love you.

Nevertheless, it would be churlish not to admit that there have still been some highlights. My lovely niece Maya is growing up fast, always makes me smile and usually makes me laugh like a gargling drain with her antics.

I also loved my trip to Greece (except for the bit when my phone got stolen), my latest Glastonbury Festival renewal (where the Foo Fighters especially were truly epic), yet another visit to Prague (where me and my friends got to have a go at being Pilsner Urquell tapsters), a raucous weekend in Ibiza (except for the bit when my phone got stolen), and I also bimbled around a bit of Germany which I had never previously seen.

Of course, that trip to Germany derived from a serious prolonged upturn in form from my beloved Newcastle United who finished last season in the top four for the first time in 20 years.

But, to be quite honest, even Newcastle United let me down this year in the biggest games of the calendar year at Wembley in February in the Carabao Cup Final - even if the crowd in Trafalgar Square on the night before was epic - and then again against AC Milan at St James Park this month.

There have been various other weekends away in the UK which have captured the imagination: the snooker in Sheffield in April, Nottingham in May to see Team GB regain their place at the top table in international ice hockey, York for Hallowe'en, and another visit to Lindisfarne Festival in September.

Unfortunately, though, I finished the year still partly recovering from a hairline fracture to my ankle sustained at Lindisfarne after the injury suffered several setbacks, although some of them were admittedly self-inflicted.

Additionally, I have spent much of the run-up to Christmas battling an acute bout of the lurgy which has hung around for the last seven weeks and, at times, made me sound like a 40-a-day smoker.

It basically made an already exhausting year just that little bit more difficult to get through - and, despite numerous undoubted highlights, I am afraid this is a year which, for quite some time, I have been desperate to consign to the archives.

For what it's worth, this blog still gets updated with the occasional updates - and, hopefully, 2024 will provide opportunities for some write-ups on a brighter note.

An index of the posts made in 2023 can be found below:

CRICKET
Ashes 2023
16.06  Baz-ball faces its biggest Test of all in Ashes
11.07  Ashes alive after England win Headingley nail-biter
01.08  Broad signs off in style as Ashes series ends drawn
World Cup
05.10  Preview: Confident India hold all the cards
14.11  Not defending anything
19.11  Australia tear down India's cloak of invincibility

FOOTBALL
Season 2022/23
04.05  Haaland breaks goal record to send Man City back top
13.06  Manchester City complete incredible Treble
Season 2023/24
15.08  Manchester City go for four in a row
04.12  Another chance for England at Euro 2024

RUGBY UNION
World Cup
08.09  Preview: C'est le moment... peut-être
04.11  Back-to-back Boks outlast All Blacks

SNOOKER
World Championships
14.04  Snooker finds itself in a terrible fix
01.05  Belgian Bullet slays maximum man Selby

POLITICS
By elections
24.07  Another messy night

PERSONAL
Glastonbury 2023
30.06  There goes My Hero

So, take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind

Down the foggy ruins of time

Far past the frozen leaves

The haunted frightened trees

Out to the windy beach

Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky

With one hand waving free

Silhouetted by the sea

Circled by the circus sands

With all memory and fate

Driven deep beneath the waves

Let me forget about today until tomorrow

Bob Dylan - Mr. Tambourine Man (1965)

Glastonbury review: There goes My Hero

ELTON JOHN brought down the curtain on a sun-baked Glastonbury Festival with his last ever concert in the United Kingdom as the Sunday night headliner on Pyramid Stage. 

The legendary 76-year-old self-styled Rocketman launched his set with Pinball Wizard. 

But, pretty soon, he was onto the tear-jerkers Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues, my own personal favourite - before further emotional performances of Someone Saved My Life Tonight, Your Song, and Candle in the Wind. 

Then the party got started as Tiny Dancer, Don't Go Breaking My Heart, Crocodile Rock, Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting and I'm Still Standing came in quick succession. 

Guests included Brandon Flowers of The Killers for Tiny Dancer - but absolutely no one would have guessed his other invitees:

▪️ the London Community Gospel Choir for Are You Ready For Love and Sad Songs (Say So Much)

▪️ TikTok star Stephen Sanchez for Until I Found You

▪️ Japanese singer Rina Sawayama for Don't Go Breaking My Heart 

Elton finished his set by dedicating Don't Let The Sun Go Down on Me to his late fellow performer George Michael before leaving the stage after Rocket Man. Strangely, though, there was no encore. 

Earlier, the Pyramid stage opened on Saturday and Sunday with impressive stuff from Rick Astley and the Dixie Chicks respectively. 

Entertaining and self-effacing Astley got the mood right by mixing up his set somewhat with covers of Harry Styles's As It Was and, rather unexpectedly, Highway To Hell by AC/DC. 

Astley finished, of course, with a sing-a-long of Never Gonna Let You Down with the whole of the crowd. 

Elsewhere, the Other Stage also presented strong performances from the likes of The Hives and Lightning Seeds back-to-back early on Friday, and Generation Sex and Manic Street Preachers on Saturday. 

In particular, Generation Sex were a great throwback to height of punk rock as Billy Idol was joined by former Sex Pistols, Steve Jones and Paul Cook, to alternate between the most famous hits from Generation X and the Pistols. 

Idol finished with the brilliant version of My Way from the latter - and delivered a typically energetic performance despite somehow having to style it out in a leather jacket in the sweltering heat. 

Of course, any good Glastonbury visit goes beyond Pyramid and Other with options available on over 100 stages, big and small - and smaller. 

Steve Earle delighted on the Acoustic Stage with the proper version of Galway Girl while Richard Thompson of 1970s folk revivalists Fairport Convention slowed everything down there on a sweltering Saturday. 

The eclectic sounds of Congolese groovers Kanga Bongo Man really got feet moving in front of the West Holts stage, while Sparks provided another perfect throwback on The Park. 

Arcadia and Silver Hayes remain the prime late night area for dance music enthusiasts - and the giant fire-spewing spider Arcadia delivered great visuals even for more casual listeners to the genre. 

Elsewhere, South African a capella quintet The Joy provided much joy to the Rabbit Hole on Friday night - but the main action into the early hours still comes from the south east corner. 

On Sunday night, my close friend Jonathan, his amiable work shift partner Tom, and another friend Chris all ambled along the Old Railway Path in a successful attempt to keep the Festival going as long as possible. 

The sights of the south east corner were as eye-opening as ever with personal highlights being The Unfairground and The Temple, a Colosseum-style rave venue. 

Additionally, bizarre space rockers Henge performed an entertaining set on the Truth Stage before the final journey back to the tent at 5am on Monday was pleasantly interrupted by the New York Brass Band on the Rocket Lounge. 

As if we could end up anywhere else... 

🔼

Back to the headliners on Pyramid - and the peaceful efforts of Yusuf/Cat Stevens somehow kept the ominous storm clouds away from delivering a downpour before Blondie stepped things up from opener One Way Or Another onwards. 

It was generally agreed, though, that Elton John provided the best big stage entertainment - while Arctic Monkeys on Friday night had been a major disappointment. 

Now, it is quite obvious that Alex Turner's group have undergone a significant style change since their debut album Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. 

But there is absolutely no way that the frontman should be crooning away to old classics like Mardy Bum as well. It just doesn't work. 

Conversely, Guns N Roses on Saturday played in a far more orthodox hard-rock fashion - and, as such, will have pleased their hardcore fanbase.

The appearance of Dave Grohl during their closer Paradise City was a glorious way to finish - but the set, as a whole, lacked the wider connection to the crowd enjoyed by the Rocketman. 

Grohl, however, had already himself become the central figure of this edition of the Festival, as the worst-kept secret in Glastonbury history - the made-up band the Churn-Ups - were indeed revealed to be the Foo Fighters. 

Despite the lack of surprise, the one-hour set on Friday evening was the highlight of my seventh visit to Worthy Farm as the Foos were left simply no room for filler. 

Opening with All My Life, Grohl expertly navigated his way through the set via outright classics Learn To Fly, The Pretender, My Hero, Best Of You, and Everlong. 

The slower version of My Hero was the absolute height of my Festival - and for a very personal reason. 

Now, this edition of the Glastonbury was always going to be a pretty special one for me - having not been since 2017, I was desperate to go in what is my 40th year. 

Excitingly, in the ballot last October, I got a ticket - or, more accurately, I was part of a WhatsApp group all trying for tickets, of whom one man was successful for the rest of us. Thanks, Kieran. 

Thereafter, Jonathan worked out a route of six trains for me from my home town of Blaydon in Tyneside all the way to Bristol Temple Meads, via Hexham, Carlisle, Wigan North West, Birmingham New Street, and Cheltenham Spa. 

Remarkably, it worked out almost without a hitch except for an unscheduled change at Preston where my train from Carlisle abruptly terminated. Simply, though, I just had to board the service to Birmingham one stop early. 

In Bristol, I was offered an overnight flat by another lad Shing and stayed there with his mate Coops before catching the coach to the Festival on Thursday morning. 

With my beer and snacks brought onto site in ever-faithful John's campervan, it was all set up perfectly. In truth, though, a shadow hung over the whole journey. 

In March, a new reality had intervened after my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer and renal failure, for which he needed dialysis to keep him alive. 

Then, on the very eve of the Festival, the hospital consultant advised that, due to the extent of the cancer, the dialysis was no longer effective. 

Devastatingly, my dad now had no further treatment available to him - and, suddenly, doubts inevitably crept in about the trip altogether. 

With the goodwill of my parents, I decided still to go but my thoughts were never far away from my dad. 

The lyrics by the Foo Fighters in My Hero read:

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary 

The tears flowed. Of course, the tears flowed - those lyrics spoke so close to me. 

My dad has never come across as being, or wanting to be, any more than an ordinary bloke living a quiet life, working hard and raising a family. He has deserved a far more fruitful retirement. 

At the same time, my dad has actually always been My Hero - and, after the toughest few months of my life, I will be very soon watching him as he goes.

That moment at Glastonbury was like no other. Already this has been a year like no other. 

Moon lights the way for Santa tonight

The first full moon on Christmas Eve since 1977

The next such event is not until 2034

MERRY

CHRISTMAS

from The Intrepid Reporter 

Christmas Eve, all dark and stormy...

ALL of the bad weather affecting the Christmas getaway in the UK has thankfully left Tyneside largely unscathed.

Nevertheless, the rain and wind has reminded me of this festive song, especially liked by my late Nanna:

Christmas Eve All Dark & Stormy

Christmas Eve all dark and stormy

Time to go to bed

Time to hang your little stocking just above your head

Through the door and down the chimney

In the candle light 

Santa Claus the Christmas Fairy

Means to come tonight [repeat]

He is old and very feeble

With a splendid sack

Full of lots of lovely playthings

On his bended back

While the children are a sleeping

He will softly go

Fill their stockings full of playthings  
‘Til they overflow [repeat]

Please I want a railway engine, 
Please I want a whip.
Please I want a little rag dolly, 
Or a sailing ship

Through the door and down the chimney

In the candle light

Santa Claus the Christmas Fairy
Means to come tonight [repeat]

Merry Christmas to all of my family, friends, and occasional blog readers
Enjoy the next few days and stay safe x

GNR 2013: Farah tastes defeat on the South Shields sea front

The Tyne Bridge adorned for the first time with the Great North Run sign

DOUBLE Olympic champions Mo Farah took to the mean streets of the North East for the first time today but his bid for victory in his maiden Great North Run ended in defeat.

It was a very close-run thing, though, as Farah and winner Kenenisa Bekele treated the chilly South Shields crowd to a thrilling sprint finish.

For much of the race, Farah and Bekele had been joined by the legendary Haile Gebrselassie who was still competing aged 40, ultimately setting a new world record for his age-group.

Between them, the trio can boast no fewer than seven Olympic gold medals and they set off at an impressive pace, completing mile seven in just 4:21.

That pace seemed to catch out Bekele a little but, while he dropped about 20 metres behind, he made sure not to fall completely out of contention - and he was back in touch for a climactic finish.

Indeed, Bekele was first to make a move, pulling away down a steep slope in mile 12 - something which would have been rather unfamiliar to track star Farah.

But, still, Farah would not give up - and, as Gebrselassie faded to third, the stage was set for the Briton to chase down the lead.

Closer and closer came Farah but the tape was also coming closer and closer for Bekele. It was really unclear just which one would come first.

However, after a couple of anxious looks over the shoulder and a defensive weave across the path of Farah, one final kick would prove enough for Ethiopian Bekele to complete the course in 60:09.

Farah, just a second behind, was left only with the rare and bitter taste of defeat, though undoubtedly also with a hunger to road race again.

Meanwhile, in the women's elite race, an exciting finish of a different sort developed.

Unlike in the men's competition, there was no doubt who was going to win - Kenyan Priscah Jeptoo was well ahead of all of her rivals.

Instead, it was Jeptoo against the clock as, despite the dreary conditions, she chased down Paula Radcliffe's half-marathon record of 65:40, set in the 2003 Great North Run.

Radcliffe, who was on commentary duty today for the BBC, will have breathed a sigh of relief when Jeptoo crossed the line.

It was not quite quick enough, five seconds off the record to be accurate, though still the third-fastest time in history.

In the wheelchair races, the Tyneside crowds could cheer home success - in both the men's and women's events.

Six-time Paralympic gold medallist David Weir (43:06) took the men's event for the fifth time, a feat matched by Shelly Woods, who finished in 54:28.

But, of course, the Great North Run is not just about the elite athletes. Today, another 55,000+ runners, joggers, try-hards, and never-give-uppers also crossed the line in South Shields, raising millions between them for charity.

Little did Brendan Foster know just how big the Great North Run would become when he devised the first edition in 1981.

As Foster freely admits: “To be honest we had no idea if anyone was going to turn up at all

"But they did. And it’s just grown. When we reached 40,000 entrants a few years back, someone said that’s it, we can’t get any bigger. But we have."

Now, the run is constantly over-subscribed and attracts regular praise for its level of organisation.

And next year's entrants have the added incentive of the possibility of being the millionth person in the race's history to cross the line, the very first mass-participation event set to reach landmark.

Amongst the throng this year for the second time was my sister, Helen, a keen runner as she amply demonstrated in comfortably breaking the hour-mark in the Blaydon Race.

My sister was running for a brilliant charity, the Alzheimer's Society, a cause close to all of our hearts in our family, given that dementia has blighted three of our grandparents' latter days.

Dementia, which affects approximately 800,000 people in the United Kingdom alone, does not discriminate between the victims which it chooses.

It is a harrowing, often drawn-out illness without a known cure - and much more scientific research needs to be done to solve the enigma or at least stem the tide.

This is where the Alzheimer's Society comes in - but, of course, research requires money and so it feels only right that I should annotate this blog posting with my sister's JustGiving page.

Helen was very proud to represent the Alzheimer's Society today and she did them proud, finishing in a personal best time of two hours and 12 minutes.

A brilliant effort on a day which - even when the sun does not shine - never fails to show Newcastle and Tyneside in anything but a fantastic light.

For Nanna x

Persistence pays off for my Blaydon Races sis

BREAKING the hour mark became something of an obsession for my fitness-mad sister this year as she took part in her third Blaydon Race on a glorious "Ninth of Joon".

Last year, the Race was run in a terrible monsoon on the 150th anniversary of Geordie Ridley's tune - and it would prove even more agonising for my sister as she was officially clocked at 61 minutes.

But, another 12 months on, she was determined not to run it so close again. An increased gym regime on the treadmill began, and it has ultimately delivered a superb result with her unofficial time coming in at 55 minutes.

The official time for my sister will follow soon - though, for the first time, the 4000 competitors had an immediate opportunity to find out the fruits of their efforts, thanks to the long-desired introduction of chip timing.

Entirely understandably, my sister was rather more concerned with getting home, showered and changed before heading back to town for a few drinks. For, undoubtedly, the most wonderful thing about the Blaydon Race is the sheer sociability of the event.

This is no more exemplified than by the goody bag at the finish line, which includes a t-shirt that changes year-on-year and, perhaps, the most welcome of prizes - a bottle of ale from the Wylam brewery.

Certainly, the beer was well-deserved for this year's athletes after a run in which the sun shone high and the temperatures soared during the hottest part of the day.

But, while the weather was the complete opposite to the downpour in 2012, the course remained faithfully based on Geordie Ridley's song.

Beginning at Balmbras at the bottom of the Bigg Market with a hearty version of the Geordie anthem, the run twisted its way through Newcastle city centre, heading alang Collingwood Street, up the Westgate Road and past the Metro Radio Arena.

That put the competitors onto the famous Scotswood Road and they then all crossed over the Scotswood Bridge before looping around the Derwenthaugh Marina near the MetroCentre.

In the final part of the race, the runners headed onto Chainbridge to take them "reet into Blaydon toon" before they finished on the football fields near to Shibdon Pond.

There, I witnessed the efforts of a man dressed as the angel Gabriel - unnervingly with horn and golden hotpants, another man carrying a fridge on his back, a Wonderwoman and a Batman.

Most of all, though, I looked out for my sister, and then watched proudly as she crossed the line just after 4pm.

Note: the official race charity of the 2013 Blaydon Race was Heel and Toe Children's Charity, a local charity which offers free conductive education therapy to children with cerebral palsy, dyspraxia and other motor disorders.


THE BLAYDON RACES (1862)
by Geordie Ridley

(1) Aw went to Blaydon Races, 'twas on the ninth of Joon,
Eiteen hundred an' sixty-two, on a summer's efternoon;
Aw tyuk the 'bus frae Balmbra's, an' she wis heavy laden,
Away we went alang Collingwood Street, that's on the road to Blaydon.

(chorus)
Ah me lads, ye shuda seen us gannin',
Passin' the foaks upon the road just as they wor stannin';
Thor wes lots o' lads an' lasses there, all wi' smiling faces,  
Gannin' alang the Scotswood Road, t'see the Blaydon Races.

(2) We flew past Airmstrang's factory, and up to the "Robin Adair",
Just gannin' doon te the railway bridge, the 'bus wheel flew off there.
The lasses lost their crinolines, an' the veils that hide their faces,
Aw got two black eyes an' a broken nose in gan te Blaydon Races.

(3) When we gat the wheel put on away we went agyen,
But them that had their noses broke they cam back ower hyem;
Sum went to the Dispensary an' some to Doctor Gibbs's,
An' sum to the Infirmary to mend their broken ribs.

(4) Noo when we gat to Paradise thor wes bonny gam begun;
Thor was fower-an-twenty on the 'bus, man, hoo they danced an' sung;
They called on me to sing a sang, aw sung them "Paddy Fagan",
Aw danced a jig an' swung my twig that day aw went to Blaydon.

(5) We flew across the Chain Bridge reet into Blaydon toon,
The bellman he was callin' there, they call him Jackie Broon;
Aw saw him talkin' to sum cheps, an' them he was pursuadin'
To gan an' see Geordy Ridley's show in the Mechanics' Hall at Blaydon

(6) The rain it poor'd aw the day an' myed the groons quite muddy,
Coffy Johnny had a white hat on - they yelled, "Whe stole the cuddy."
There wes spice stalls an' munkey shows an' aud wives selling ciders,
An' a chep wiv a hapenny roond aboot, shootin' "Noo, me lads, for riders."

The Great North Run: A moment of personal pride in my family

MARTIN LEL might have won the Great North Run for the second time in three years but it was not his performance this time that I was really looking out for.

While the Kenyan's time of 59 minutes 32 seconds was undoubtedly impressive, my mam and my sister were also among a throng of 54,000 running the 13.1 miles between Newcastle and South Shields.

On an unseasonably warm September day, both found the going tough as the sun beat down on their weary bodies.

But, after overcoming the psychological barrier of 10 miles, they hung on and reached the final mile along the sea front.

It was the homecoming mile and the end not only to their race but what mam later called an "unforgettable experience".

For the record, my sister - running with work friends - finished in 2hrs 40minutes while my mam found participants of similar ability in the crowd to finish just under an hour further behind.

The times didn't really matter, though - certainly not to my mam, who achieved her stated aim of completing the Great North Run by the age of 50.

She turns 50 at the start of December and, having now done it once, she is proud enough of that fact and does not expect to participate in the event again.

My sister, at 23 years old, is a keen gym-goer but even she has no desire to follow Eddie Izzard's lead after the comedian's recent feat of 43 full marathons in just 51 days.

Nevertheless, I am very proud of them both and indeed of all the runners who took part in the largest half marathon in the world on Sunday.

The event has never been more popular since it was first devised in 1981 by former Olympic bronze medallist Brendan Foster.

It raises huge amounts for charity every year and has now become an institution itself - a major part of the North East calendar.

In this year's competitive races, Lel ran the second fastest winning time in the event's history to win a tight men's contest by just 12 seconds from his fellow Kenyan Kiplimo Kimutai.

Portugal's Jessica Augusto was a surprise but clear winner of the women's race, completing the course in 1hr 9 minutes and 8 seconds.

In the men's wheelchair race, David Weir broke the course record with a time of 41 minutes 34 seconds, and the women's race was won by Amanda McGrory who clocked 49 minutes 47 seconds.

Personally, I've always fancied myself as a bit of a long-distance runner and going for a run is something which I will do if I want to clear my head.

But, to my shame, I have only ever run one official UK Athletics race when I finished the 2003 Blaydon Race, a distance of 5.7 miles, in 55m 36s.

After seeing the pride in the faces of my mam and my sister, though, the temptation of completing this personal achievement has never been greater. Maybe next year...