Music man

Jamie turned 11 on Sunday.  It's almost beyond belief.

He wanted a new electric guitar and assorted accessories as presents and the family rallied round to deliver.

He even treated the Yorkshire wing to an impromptu performance after a BBQ which was predictably ended early by rain.  

The previous day, we joined other families and friends on a trip to Lets Rock Leeds, an 80s music festival in a day which featured Status Quo as the headline act. 

Jamie and the Quo have history after he saw them at CarFest North last year and rhythm guitar player Richie Malone gave him his pick.

Unbelievably, the exact same thing happened on Saturday and, as before, Jamie's souvenir is now safely mounted alongside a picture of the band in action.
   

We're off to the "big one" next Tuesday, more on that after the event. (Clue: the name of the band rhymes with beagles.  But doesn't have a "b" in it).

In the meantime, Jamie has submitted his job application to be a music teacher when Year 6 have their takeover day at St Oswald's Primary School next month.

This is what he wrote:

"As a musician myself, I love the idea of teaching a full class of children, any age, a music lesson.

"I have experience in looking after Key Stage 1 due to having a younger sibling and occasionally playing with younger ones on the field.  

"I have a good knowledge of music from the last few decades and am capable of creating an educational PowerPoint.

"I personally believe music should play a larger part in the national curriculum as music can relax the body when needed and can play a crucial part in a child's mental health.

"Though I have written this application formally, I can be fun and will do my best to have the children playing or listening to music with big smiles on their faces.

"I would also like to thank the hardworking school council for this brilliant opportunity."  

I'll let you know if he gets it.

Are there eggs in milkshakes?

As I've said before, I don't do politics on here and have no plans to start now.

However, seeing Nigel Farage being "milkshaked" yesterday took my mind back to various dicey campaign walkabouts I've witnessed in the past - and one in particular.

Whilst I have no time for Farage, he does have the right to walk down the street in safety.  His response to what happened yesterday was to blame his security team before stomping off.  Probably fair enough.

Back in 2007, William Hague - then Shadow Foreign Secretary - was in Bradford for the local elections.  On a walkabout (minus any security), a man crossed the street in front of me and extended his arm towards the star attraction.  As Hague reached out his hand to greet his "admirer," the man cracked an egg hidden in his other hand on the former Tory Leader's jacket and ran off.

Hague's immediate response was to laugh and announce: "That's why I wear a jacket!" before handing it to an aide.  Full credit to him for that.

Prior to his arrival, I spoke to the Yorkshire Post to ask if they would be covering his appearance in Bradford.  They said no but offered to use a picture in the following day's newspaper "if it's good enough."

I told Hague this at the start of his visit and asked if he would conspire with me to ensure the picture got in.

He said he was more than happy to help and posed for this shot. 

Whatever your politics, the current House of Commons is all the poorer without him. 

Derry good

I came to bed early tonight (I’m writing this on my phone) because Derry Girls didn’t win a BAFTA and I was grumpy. They missed out in the Scripted Comedy category to a show I’d never heard of, can’t remember its name and will probably never watch. (Still, well done). 

Yes, being from Northern Ireland, I’m biased. But Derry Girls does tickle me. More importantly, many people I’ve spoken to on this side of the water who’ve seen it love it every bit as much as me.

It’s been of a Derry weekend all round for me.  On Friday I saw The Undertones. (Not in the street, in an actual gig),

They were magnificent. Not a surprise, I’d seen them twice before, but they are now better than ever.

Folk I speak to always question how they can possibly perform without original frontman Feargal Sharkey, who left the band in 1983. The answer is his replacement Paul McLoone, who assumed the mantle a mere 20 years ago.

He’s magnificent. Energetic, wonderfully tuneful and as camp as a row of tents. What’s not to like?!

With his bandmates, they blasted out 25 tunes before returning for more. 

At the start of the encore, bass player Muckey Bradley said: “We just realised, we forgot one or two.”

He added  a little later: “Our bus doesn’t leave for 10 minutes. We have time for a few more!”

It was a fantastic night with The Undertones supported by the best warm-up act I’ve seen in The Neville Staple Band who rolled out the ska hits. 

But it was all about The Undertones. If you can see them, do see them. 

Unlike the cast and crew of Derry Girls this evening, you will not go home disappointed. 

Luna landing

If, like me, you're not glued to the news waiting for details of Harry and Meghan's new arrival, perhaps I can tell you about ours

Luna White.  She's a hamster.

We've not had a family pet before, at least not since joining this family.  But Charlotte has been demanding one for some time and we finally relented. 

A dog was out of the question because it needs to be walked and Charlotte doesn't do walking.

A goldfish doesn't do anything (apart from swim, obviously, and even I can do that).

Guinea pigs do even less.

I wanted cats but Vanessa remains unconvinced, at least until the autumn when I plan to make another pitch.

However, after paying a handful of visits to her friend's pet-filled house, Charlotte decided she wanted a hamster. And, after dragging our feet for a bit, there wasn't really a sound reason to deny her. 

Luna was purchased from Pets At Home after school today.  (Her cage was bought a few hours before after the one Vanessa scooped up on eBay arrived this morning in several smashed-up pieces).

So we'll see what happens next.  Probably not a lot, if truth be told.

Although Charlotte has treated Luna to a see-saw.

Maybe her friend's hamster can visit and sit on one end. 

#Winner

I've just won a competition (I know!)

We've attended CarFest North, the Chris Evans-fronted family festival, for the last few years and have tickets to return in July.

They've been running a competition for past attendees to share their stories and pictures in the quest for a goodie-bag.  And I've just been declared the week 2 winner!  Needless to say I'm dead excited (such moments are few and far between when you're 47).

My story was as follows:

"Last year my wife Vanessa and I took our 9-year-old son Jamie and 7-year-old daughter Charlotte to CarFest North for the fourth successive year.  We've always had a great time but something particularly special happened at the 2018 event. 

"Jamie had started learning the guitar and I told him all about Status Quo - the first band I ever saw live in concert back in 1986 – who were booked to play CarFest North. 

"When they came on stage, Jamie was loving their performance and was bouncing up and down in the front row, to the delight/amusement of seasoned Quo fans around us. Someone else who noticed Jamie was the band’s rhythm guitar player, Richie Malone, who came across to our side of the stage to acknowledge Jamie’s enthusiasm.

"At the end of one song, he pointed at Jamie and threw his plectrum towards my son. It landed just in front of us but someone else tried to claim it. The crowd in the immediate vicinity quickly made clear that it was meant for Jamie and the plectrum was happily handed over, allowing Jamie to wave it back at Richie to say thanks. He now has it mounted in his bedroom together with a picture of Richie taken during that performance. 

"Jamie’s guitar playing has really taken off since then and we’ve got tickets to see Status Quo play in Leeds later this year. It’s all thanks to CarFest North and, as a family, we can’t wait to return to Bolesworth Castle once again in July!"

Cringey, I know, but true nonetheless.

I'm now off for a celebratory snifter to the sounds of Status Quo.

Birthday boys

It was my birthday on Sunday so we went away for the night.  All did not go quite to plan.  Suffice to say, Aldwark Manor Hotel is one to be avoided.

But we still had fun and the beds were comfy.

Earlier in the day, we visited the Tockwith Motorsports Centre where, from the age of 12, you can drive around an old airfield for 90 minutes to get some practice.

Vanessa went in to pay.

"How old is the driver?" the kid in the hut asked.

"Errm.....47." 

The humiliation.

We travelled on to York on Monday where, after a visit to the Jorvik Viking Centre, Jamie began the search for a new guitar for his own birthday which is next on the family list.

The helpful shop music man even let him try one out. 

It's always good to hear a familiar tune.

Stars and Whites

The kids are now two days into the Easter countdown and February half-term already seems a long time ago.  But the memories remain.  

Some people we know used the break to visit exotic locations including Dubai and New York.  And we were equally flash.

Here are three members of the White family enjoying the blue skies of Doncaster.   

  

And this is two of them in Barnsley.

Living the dream, I tell thee.  We even squeezed in a shopping trip to Pontefract.

My personal fear is that we've now set the bar too high and the rest of the year will be an anticlimax.  Time will undoubtedly tell.   

After a couple of days to get over the excitement, Jamie and I went to Yeadon Town Hall to see "The Quo Experience" play live.  And it was a very positive experience. 

69-year-old Francis Rossi was played by someone 50 years his junior (fact). He was brilliant.

Meanwhile, a rather more seasoned guitar man breathed welcome life into Rick Parfitt (deceased). 

That was Friday.  Saturday was a very special occasion as Vanessa's fab mum, Judy, celebrated her XXth birthday.  (A real lady never reveals her age). 

That took us to Sunday when the menfolk crafted an international-themed tea.  It's something we do.

It was also our turn a few weeks ago when Portuguese food was on the menu. 

Since then, Vanessa and Charlotte treated us to the culinary treats of Italy.

And on Sunday, him and me went Stateside as we prepared a selection of dishes made famous in the land of Trump.

We started with BBQ ribs and southern fried chicken wings.

They were followed by homemade burgers and fries.

And for dessert, we baked our very own Mississippi mud pie.     

God bless the United States of America. 

Heatwave alert

If Brexit wasn't making the TV news bleak enough, this evening we will be hit with dire warnings about how the country is set to disappear under ten million billion tonnes of snow.

But I urge you to ignore them.   

There won't be any snow tomorrow, at least not in Guiseley. And there won't be snow here on Wednesday either.  Or Thursday.  Or Friday.  Or ever.

And why am I so sure?

Because I've just bought Jamie and Charlotte new sledges.  

I would've been much better spending the cash on sun loungers.  

Happy New Year

Yes, it's been an entire calendar month since I last updated this drivel, although I suspect you haven't even noticed.

Since Boxing Day, we've done a few bits and pieces including a week on the drink in Northern Ireland.  (Only Vanessa and me, to be fair.  Jamie and Charlotte are doing Dry January).

After a fun New Year's Eve, Granda and I took Jamie for his first game at the home of football.
 

The Bannsiders even managed a thumping win.

Accompanied by their Auntie Vicki, we visited the home of a famous Norn Iron resident.  First name Pat (which I didn't know).  Second name Tayto. 

And did we leave with any crisps?  Er, yes. 75 packets. courtesy of Mr Tayto himself. 

We had a trip around night time Belfast.

And some more drink was drunk before Vicki left for home.

It was then back to the North Coast where Jamie made a return trip to Coleraine Social, sorry, Football Club.  

It's been relatively quiet since then, other than a burst of shameless publicity to promote our part-sponsorship of next weekend's inaugural Aireborough RUFC Beer Festival.  (More on that anon). 

Until yesterday, that is.

We spent last night in a Premier Inn close to Manchester's Trafford Centre. 

And today, you join me at the nearby iFly indoor skydiving centre.

We all had a go in November, as I documented here.

Vanessa and I quickly made the decision to retire on a high (can you see what I did there?)

But him and her are here to have another go.

This was Jamie’s first flight just a few moments ago.

And this was Charlotte’s. 

There will be no talking to them on the way home. 

Bucket pissed

Season's greetings!  (It may be Boxing Day but I'm a firm believer in the 12 Day of Christmas mantra so we're only getting started).

We had a great day yesterday (thanks for asking).  The kids seemed happy with their lot, which is always pleasing. 

Jamie and I shared one present.  Yes, we're off to see The Eagles in concert next summer.  Jamie's been a big fan since I took him to see a tribute band earlier this year. Eagles tunes have also encouraged him to push on with his guitar practice.  Money well spent, I say.

Charlotte was just as excited to learn that she and her mummy will be going to see Little Mix in November.  I'm not so keen for Miss White to follow in their scantily-attired stiletto steps, but still.

In the early evening, I did my big family phone call back home.  Everyone was gathered at my eldest sister's.  Jacquie has had a time of it in 2018.  She returned from holiday in the early part of the year to discover that her house had flooded.  Completely.  Ceilings, carpets, furniture all destroyed.  She's had to reside with family and friends ever since whilst the inside of her home was essentially reconstructed.  The kitchen and bathroom were only finished last weekend, finally enabling Jacquie to move back in.

However, my father phoned me in a grump on Christmas Eve to report a problem.  Jacquie's toilet wasn't working and everyone was going to have to use a kindly neighbour's loo for all of Christmas Day. But my dad wasn't having any of that.  Not a chance.

So when he arrived at Jacquie's for his Christmas lunch, his hands were full.  One was carrying his presents.  The other was clutching a "portaloo," otherwise known as a bucket.

It was only when he went to "try it out" that the rest of the family revealed the toilet was indeed working and always had been.  It was all a wind-up and everyone else was in on the joke - including the kindly neighbour. 

The Whites can be so cruel.     

Murder on the living room floor

We went to church today for a bit of a singsong. A carolokee, if you will.

Vanessa’s dad was reading a lesson and delivered it like the pro he is.

We then came home for tea. Vanessa said she wasn’t hungry. Fine. But not a morsel of curry or lemon chicken remained shortly after I served up. Jamie, Charlotte and I managed to grab little a bit each when she wasn’t fully concentrating.

But here’s the thing. I got annoyed. Charlotte was wearing a big white fluffy coat thingy that Auntie Jacquie bought for her birthday on Wednesday. And, somehow, Charlotte managed to dip it into her curry. Yes, I forgot to get naan bread, but that’s not a proper excuse.

I hurtled out to the kitchen to apply wet wipes and Vanish before Charlotte’s cherished attire hit the washing machine. I followed-up with a swift lecture on not being so bloody careless. 

It was just as I was catching my breath that Jamie’s curry flew off his lap tray and landed upside down on the living room carpet. And then I kicked over my glass of wine. And then, as Vanessa was cleaning up Jamie’s mess, she dipped her dressing gown into the lemon chicken.

We truly are a family made for each other and not for laptray teas (which are rightly a rarity).

Have a wonderful Christmas Eve.

I didn't see that coming

I've worn contact lenses since I was 18 years old.  I got them so I could catch the ball better when playing rugby, but quickly realised that my butter fingers were more responsible for me dropping it than my eyes.

I've had glasses since then too but rarely wear them because I look every bit as silly as you think I might.  I don't do hats for the same reason.  Nor sunglasses (not that there's a great need for sunglasses when you live in Leeds).

I've now entered that tragic "needs must" stage of middle age.  All sorts of bits are falling off and the few powers I once had are beginning to wane. That includes the ability to read without screwing my eyes up.

I never understood why people wearing reading glasses often looked over them when talking to me.  Maybe, unlike me, they thought they looked cool and regarded their specs as a fashion accessory.  But over the last few months the reason became more clear (unlike sentences on a page).

I first noticed my diminishing up-close vision when I was trying to decipher the cooking instructions on the side of an SFC bargain bucket.  (The "FC" stands for "fried chicken" but it comes from Morrisons so the "S" doesn't stand for "succulent").  The bucket had white writing on a red background (just like in Kentucky, so not a coincidence) and I couldn't make it out.  Over subsequent weeks, I continued to struggle with reading non-black letters on non-white backgrounds. One particularly embarrassing moment came when I misread how many units were in a bottle of wine, drank half a glass too many and fell over.  (Always drink responsibly, kids).

After careful consideration and a further period of denial, I decided it was time to head to Specsavers to book an appointment.  On the way, I called into the local Sue Ryder charity shop to buy Charlotte a set of cat ears (pretend ones) after she left hers behind at a music lesson.   And I noticed one of those spinny stand thingys displaying a selection of "readers."  They ranged in strength from -0.5 to, well, it was very difficult to read.  But I found a pair that made a positive difference after testing them out on a children's book (which Charlotte got instead as they didn't sell cat ears.  "Never have done," declared the assistant, arms folded ).

And how much, pray tell?  £2.  Brand new.  £2.  (So I bought some more stuff because I felt bad).

I suspect they make me look like this.

But I've not looked in the mirror with them on as yet.  I've been far too busy going through our wine rack and marvelling at how much each bottle differs in strength.  That, and sorting out the kids' chicken suppers.

But my new reading glasses have definitely made my life just that little bit easier.

This weekend, I plan to return to the Sue Ryder shop to check out their man wig collection.

Alive, Alive Oh!

The kids have just done their bit as Guiseley joined the rest of the country in marking the centenary of Armistice Day.

As I was delivering them to their respective meeting points, we talked about their granda who I am delighted to report is not dead.

I say this because it appears that half of Coleraine thought he was.   He doesn't know how the rumour started but it certainly spread quickly.

So much so that, as he walked through the town centre yesterday morning, he was met by many startled faces who thought they'd seen a ghost. Literally.

At one point he bumped into my cousin who was both shocked and delighted to see him.  Then her phone beeped.  It was a text from a friend expressing their condolences at my father's "passing."

So, just to make clear, James Edmund Barcroft White Snr is alive and well and will hopefully be walking through  the streets of Coleraine for many more years to come.

Cheers Dad. 

Learning to fly

Is it a bird?  Is it a plane? No it's me - and yes I am flying.

I always knew we were a family blessed with superpowers.

And it turns out that we all have them.

Here's Vanessa, looking even scarier than usual.

 
This is Charlotte, being particularly brave.

And here's Jamie doing a midair tango with Brain, our very patient instructor.

If you're still confused, indoor skydiving was our game.  None of us knew what to expect and we didn't leave disappointed. In fact, I think we're still in giddy shock. 

The best bit was what they call the "hi-fly" where our man Brian took us up to space and back again.

You'll understand it better when you see Jamie in action in the video below.  They're performing the "hi-fly" when they momentarily disappear from view. 

It's quite an experience if you're ever near the Trafford Centre in Manchester and fancy ticking something off your bucket list - or adding it to the end.

If only our superhero costumes were just a little more......er......heroic.