Three Things That Make Me Happy

Who would have thought that I would be writing a list, on a machine, whose workings I don't understand, at the request of a lady thousands of miles away, all at the age of sixty nine. But why not, indeed!

Taking it for granted that family and friends need no listing being precious beyond mention, in no particular order, Things that Make me Happy.

1 Attending Derby County Football Club matches.

I expect few to understand. Its an occupation, a leisure activity sometimes without rhyme or reason. In winter it is often cold beyond belief. The seats are uncomfortable, it is impossible to leave the car park within forty five minutes of a match ending, it is also expensive and the team is frequently terrible beyond belief. (Last year we were relegated from the Premier League with the least points ever in the leagues history.) Yet our ground is called Pride Park.

It is also real, live, as opposed to television, always intriguing and sometimes exciting. We live primarily in hope and expectation. It is both tribal and traditional. I have a brick alongside hundreds of others set in the pathway outside the ground. Going from memory mine is inscribed 'The best of times, the worst of times.' (Hard Times?)

My wife attends with me, as do over 25000 diehards. Bellicose ranting and sabre rattling is not for me. I don't 'hate' the opposition as many scream weekly. But I love my football, have attended since 1948 and hopefully will continue to do so until I die. I might even consider having my ashes scattered in the penalty box.

2 Collecting.

I have what could loosely be called a 'museum'. It houses a multitude of objects, of little value in the main, but a source of pleasure and education to many. Some exhibits have been bought, some given, some retrieved from roadside skips. There is no theme, I collect anything that takes my fancy, size and space permitting.

For example:

Puppets, Jack in a Box, an Etch A Sketch and Sindy plus horse (and pram, and scooter, caravan, dog, etc,etc.)

Sewing machines, valve radios, wicker basketed child's weighing scales and cameras by the half dozen.

Butter makers, Victorian bike lamps, treddle boot and shoe repairer and magic lantern.

Victorian bottles, cut throat razors, and a grappling iron. (used for fetching bodies from the river.)

Gas masks, WW2 helmets, field telephones and Morse Keys.

The list is endless and is added to on occasion. Finding a new item gives satisfaction, I love it, the local school 'borrows' and we are all happy. Last 'in' so to speak, an old type blood pressure monitor in a wooden box. When did you last see one in use? (Bought at the car boot in Hexham Cattle Market)

You start with one item and a pattern emerges. I acquired a ceramic 'potty, to which was added a pot bedpan; along came a pot urine bottle and a stone hot water bottle and now the blood pressure monitor. This little group incidentally fascinates the infants at my daughters school. (And I suspect the young teachers who have not experienced the joys of using such objects.)

3 The Purchase of Anything New. New to me, that is, as opposed to new 'new'.

I suspect this is a throwback to a childhood that was poor in the extreme. (Poor but not unhappy.)

I remember an early Christmas toy; a tinplate, wind up toy jeep maybe five inches long.. Then a small toy cannon, even smaller that fired matchsticks. A huge leather football that gained immense brownie points with other 'kids on the block'. A second hand bike for passing the eleven plus (bought by a relative) and a Raleigh bike with Sturmey Archer gears bought from the proceeds of a paper round, aged fifteen, 7/6d a week.

A 9mm gun, surreptitiously hidden away from adults when I was around sixteen. (I now abhor guns, aged sixty nine.) A second hand 197cc Francis Barnett motorbike and later an old minivan which I lovingly brush painted. Plus a Mini Cooper S; boy did that car get me in trouble but how I loved it. Ladas, Moskvichs, Fiat motorhomes, all passed through, all appreciated, all eventually superseded.

Marriage and our first real home, a draughty, rented semi-derelict farm cottage, but we were in heaven. Five houses later and we are in the first year of what will almost certainly be our last home.

The pattern is obvious. Toy jeeps for pennies, bungalows for many thousands. all treasured but all temporary I fear. But in this material age 'retail therapy' is still as good as any drug to banish the blues. (Perhaps it is a drug.) I can buy virtually buy anything I want within reason at this stage of my life. And thank goodness I still get pleasure from the ability to purchase 'something new'. I am not known for my sartorial elegance but I must admit I do like my new corduroy trousers I bought last week. Plus my wife says my new jacket bought in the sales looks very smart. It ought to, she chose it!

Now comes the tricky(for me) bit.

I am being instructed/taught tagging by one my mentors, Frogdancer hence this blog 'Six Things That Make Me Happy.' Or in my case three! I've tagged six people, and I've probably done that wrong. The joys of getting old, technology never was my strong point even when I was still alive! Anyone can take part, feel free. If anyone out there responds, that too will make me happy.

A City Shamed

It was with some trepidation I joined the blogging world with my first blog on the 16th April. I enjoy the fact that amongst other things it helps keep a sixty eight year old mind active. This is my sixty second blog and for the first time it a blog I did not really want to write.

Derby is a somewhat innocuous, nondescript city though it is famous in small ways for a variety of reasons. It is the home of Rolls Royce, one of the most prestigious companies of the world. Joseph Wright is a world renowned and greatly admired artist born in Derby in 1734. Herbert Spencer the Victorian philosopher was born in Derby in 1820. Dr Samuel Johnson, man of letters married in St Werberghs Derby in 1753. Samuel Plimsoll, Derby's Member of Parliament from 1868 to 1880 did much to enhance the safety of vessels at sea; so much so that he was known as 'the sailors friend'. Bess of Hardwick's tomb is in the cathedral and Derby County Football Club is internationally known though it has suffered of late.

A catalogue of events typical of the history of many a town and city in 21st century Britain. Events that I feel were overshadowed the day Derby's small claims to fame were replaced by a single act of hideous infamy.

On Saturday afternoon, the 27th September, around 2.30pm a young man climbed onto the railing at the edge of the Westfield Centre car park. At about 5.45pm the young man fell to his death; a sad event at anytime. What made this particular occurrence particularly horrifying was that it was witnessed by a crowd of onlookers whose reactions were, to say the least, mystifying.

That anyone by choice would witness the sad demise of a fellow human being defies any understanding. That some enjoyed the drama, to the extent of giving abuse and shouting encouragement to jump defies comprehension. Plus the amazing fact that some allowed children to witness the unfolding spectacle. Add the fact that some recorded events on mobile phones (in some cases later posted on internet sites) and you have a 'happening' that is mind bendingly beyond the understanding of normal people.

In the days of public hanging a mob mentality existed. It was a day out, an entertainment for all. The last public hanging in Derby took place in 1862. Have we not moved on from ignorant, uncaring times; seemingly not. For make no mistake, the actions of many bystanders was worse than those of long gone times. For we now live in the main in more civilised times. So what fuels these unthinking, uncaring fools? The word scum is an overused collective noun, but for once where these imbeciles are concerned I think it is justified.

One or two things come to mind then I will give these idiots no more of my time. Do these people now realise in the cold light of day that their behaviour was totally unreprehesible, totally unacceptable to the majority; I hope so. What causes such disregard for our fellow human beings, particularly towards those who find life difficult in the extreme. (Blame is usually directed towards too much alcohol or the fact that a diet of horror movies desensitises but no excuse carries any real weight.)

One further concern occupies my thoughts. In 1745 Bonnie Prince Charlie marched on London. Arriving in Derby he changed his mind and returned home with his rag tag army. Now the fact that it was near Derby that he turned back was irrelevant at the time. He knew nothing of Derby so it was not personal. But at the back of mind is the fact that the whole world seems to have read of Saturdays sad events. How many will now view the good citizens of Derby with contemptuous disgust. No matter that the majority are caring, concerned individuals. Presumably these awful events could have happened elsewhere but it would be wrong to say I hope so. Shaun Dykes, aged seventeen, rest in peace; you deserved better of the world.