Candle in the bin

We got a new living room mat today.

I'm not going to show you a picture of it because I fear you might not cope with that level of excitement so early in the week.

"But why did you get a new living room mat, Barry?"

Ah!  Good question.

Well, it was Vanessa's fault.  Let me explain.

Here is a picture of a candle.

And it's not just any candle.  Hell no.  It is THE candle.

Do you see the wax on the front of the glass holder thingy?  Yes?

Vanessa did that.  She picked up the candle a couple of weeks ago, held it an an angle, and the melted wax streamed on to the glass.

Here's another picture.

It shows an area of carpet, slap bang in the middle of our living room.

Do you see what looks like a slug trail on the left of the photo? You do?  Good.

Well, it's not a slug trail.  It's a hot wax trail.  It was deposited by Vanessa when she held the candle holder at an angle in the incident described above.

And now the really fun bit.

Do you see the big black "stain" on the right of the photo?  Got it?

Well, it's not a stain.  No.  It's a burn.

"And how did that happen, Barry?"        

(You really are asking all the right questions, well done).

It happened when Vanessa attempted to iron the wax off the carpet on to a piece of grease proof paper.

She'd seen this genius "fix" on Google.

And it doesn't work.

That's why we have a new living room mat.

Let's hope it doesn't get too creased.

Non-Stop Cringies

Last Friday evening I got a little bored and sent a Tweet to Tony Blackburn - who promptly read it out live on his new Radio 2 show. The kids, who were sitting around the dining table with me at the time, weren't arsed.

Maybe it's a Friday thing but I got bored again. Cue the Radio 2 mid-lifeboat.

I've just submitted my Non-Stop Oldies for consideration by Steve Wright.

And here they are:

• Smalltown Boy - Bronski Beat
• Clocks - Coldplay
• Boys of Summer - Don Henley
• Old Red Eyes is Back - Beautiful South
• Run - Snow Patrol
• Let Your Love Flow - The Bellamy Brothers
• I Useta Lover Her - The Saw Doctors
• Belfast Child - Simple Minds
• Altogether Now - The Farm
• Always The Sun - The Stranglers
• Pure - The Lightning Seeds
• Speed of Sound - Coldplay
• Islands in the Stream - Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton
• Forever in Blue Jeans - Neil Diamond
• Morningtown Ride - The Seekers
• Dignity - Deacon Blue
• Only in my Dreams - Debbie Gibson
• Lyin' Eyes - The Eagles
• Sally Maclennane - The Pogues
• And A Bang on the Ear - The Waterboys
• One - U2
• The Sun Always Shines on TV - A-Ha
• Duel - Propaganda
• Two Tribes - Frankie Goes to Hollywood
• Wichita Lineman - Glen Campbell
• The Gambler - Kenny Rogers
• Pictures of You - The Cure
• Happy Talk - Captain Sensible
• A Sky Full of Stars - Coldplay
• My Perfect Cousin - The Undertones

No one has ever accused me of being cool. And now you know why.

The Birthday Chronicles

Vanessa was 21 again on Tuesday and we celebrated by going out for a big family birthday tea.

Such was the quality of their parents' witty and illuminating conversation that both siblings chose to fill the gaps between courses by writing a short story each.

Charlotte called hers "The Beer Man" and this is how it went.

"Once upon a time there was a man called Ben.  He didn't want to try some beer.  

"He was old enough but then his dad forced him.  And then he tried and he loved it.

"The next day he went to a bar and he kept asking for beer." 

Meanwhile, Jamie entitled his even shorter tale "The Story of Donald Trump."   It read as follows.

"Once there was a hippo but he was born in a bad way.

"They called him Donald and he is America's president."

I've promised to post both scripts off to Quentin Tarantino first thing in the morning. 

Pink, podgy and proud

Charlotte received a Gold Certificate at her school's Celebration Assembly on Friday afternoon "for being a fantastic role model to others."

Got to be happy with that.

She was proud of herself in her own quiet way, but most pleasure was gained from the fact that she got to bring Ozzy the Bear (and his diary) home for the weekend.

According to Ozzy's spiel on the front of his prized possession, "I love to look back on all of my adventures and therefore bring this diary with me.  Please can you write about all the fun things that we do this weekend?" No pressure then.

The needy bear adds: "It would also be really nice if you could draw a picture or even take a photograph of you and me together!  When we return to school on Monday we can share the diary with the rest of the class."

OK then, challenge accepted. 

Perhaps surprisingly for some, food has played quite a part so far.

Ozzy had fish and chips for tea on Friday as we went out to celebrate Charlotte's success.

Before it was off to bed in a pair of pink pyjamas.

(Charlotte made an early assumption that he's a metrosexual bear).

Dressed in a pink dressing gown, Ozzy began his Saturday morning with a spread of orange juice and toast.

Next was a real treat as Charlotte whisked him off to a birthday party aboard her girlie scooter.

I understand he even had some cake.

We had pizza for tea last light.

Then this morning, after another restful night's sleep and wearing a dress, it was sausages for breakfast for our guest.

Before it was off to another birthday party - including more cake.

In a little while we're taking Ozzy for a big Sunday dinner at Grandma Judy and Grandad Mike's.

I really don't know where he puts it.

Midlife eye-sis

I've been diagnosed with another ailment.  Old age.

Already handicapped by a fractured left arm and poisoned right arm, holding a book has proven to be something of a challenge in recent times.  And the task has not been made easier by a fairly sudden difficulty in actually reading the words.

I was due in for a contact lens check yesterday (I've worn them since I was 18) and thought I'd mention it to the eye lady before she found out for herself.

She had a poke at my eyes whilst I attempted to recite a selection of letters projected onto the wall.

The exercise enabled her to reach two conclusions.  

The first was that, although there had a been a slight weakening of the sight in my right eye, my contact lens prescription would not have to change this time around.  Good, because I've got three boxfuls of unused lenses stashed in the bathroom cupboard.

And the second?

"You've got early presbyopia." 

"What does that mean?"

"You're getting old."

"Cheeky bitch." 

According  to Wikipedia, presbyopia is "a condition associated with ageing of the eye that results in progressively worsening ability to focus clearly on close objects."

Hmmm.

"Presbyopia is a natural part of the ageing process."

Cheeky Wikipedia.

Back to the eye lady.  She further explained that the latest physical disaster to befall me tends to hit people from the age of 45.

"I'm not 45 until March," I announced with youthful glee.

"And you'll be 46 next March."

I was really going off her.

The conclusion of our joust was that, despite wearing contact lenses, I will also most likely require reading glasses within two years.  Oh joy.  

Goodness knows what other nightmares will visit me before then. 

With my run of luck, both my ears will probably fall off and I won't be able to wear glasses anyway. 

No right-hand anything

It's only me - please don't get up.

I'm typing this essentially with two fingers.  I normally manage a couple more than that, but my right hand still isn't right and my left hand isn't very useful at the best of times.  (I'm very one-dimensional).

To recap, this was my right hand precisely a month ago today when I was taken into Leeds General Infirmary with what turned out to be cellulitis (which I'd not previously heard of).

And this was the self-same hand around about three minutes ago when I took another picture of it.

Much better, you will note, although it's still fairly swollen and the colour's a bit weird.  (Maybe I'll put a glove on and dig out my Michael Jackson CD).

Getting to this stage has involved an operation, five days on an intravenous drip, two seven-day courses of oral antibiotics and countless hours of elevation interspersed with hand exercises.

I also retain something of a big hole in my hand, tastefully covered by a dressing that I change every other day.  (Such gaping wounds happen when a 6'6" masked surgeon comes at you armed with a scalpel).
      
I'm kind of hoping that my remaining difficulties relate solely to the local trauma caused by what lies beneath my big plaster, and that normal service will finally resume in the coming days.  But we'll see where we're at by the beginning of next week.

In the meantime, I'm committed to resting it as best I can, more elevation and a ban on "man" handshakes (which made my hand blow up when I was back home for New Year).

And I hope not to have to clear the path for local children to get to school after a tree has been felled in a storm.  I had to yank this baby out of the way yesterday morning, prompting my hand to turn purple as a form of personal protest.
  

If you see me using my right hand between now and Monday, you have permission to hit me with it.  Thank you in advance.        

A Fix of nostalgia

I mentioned that I'd been to two gigs during our family festive jaunt back to Norn Iron.

The first was Roll With It, who I'll never tire of raving about. Go see them.

And the second was my old school pals, The Fix.

I issued a final call to arms on Boxing Night.  But thanks to the tireless efforts of the band's frontman Jonny Lennox and the kindness of BBC Radio Ulster's Kerry McLean, Q97.2's Denis McNeill, The Coleraine Times, The Coleraine Chronicle and www.whatsonni.com, that job had already been done.

The result was a full house at the award-winning Kiwi's Brew Bar in Portrush for an incredibly nostalgic gig in aid of Alzheimer's Research UK.  

Jonny and fellow original member and bassist Paul Beattie hadn't played a full set together as The Fix in 25 years.  And joined by new man Peter Jamison on drums and percussion, they blew the place away.

As well as the money lifted on the night, online donations and proceeds from a wonderfully supported raffle, the total raised now stands at almost £2,400.

But between you and I, it would be great to take that figure up to a nice round £2,500 to assist Alzheimer's Research UK in their fierce battle with dementia.

So, if you're doing Dry January or have chosen not to go to the pub tonight, why not throw a few quid of what you're saving into Jonny's virtual bucket? No reason whatsoever, so here's the link: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Alzheimer-raffle-Portrush 

It was fantastic to catch up with the boys and so many other old friends at the gig, many of whom had travelled home from far afield for Christmas. I'd not seen some of them in years.

But my abiding memory is the bravery shown by Jonny, Paul and Peter for actually getting up there and doing it.

What I'd not appreciated until the last few weeks was just how much practice the band put it to bring the songs together and sound so good.  Musically, they were fantastic and they should be immensely proud of what they achieved - on and off the stage.

I hope we get to see them play together again before too long.  Because I, for one, can't wait another quarter of a century.

Familiar faces Roll back into Mary Pat's

I wrote yesterday that I'd been to two outstanding gigs in Northern Ireland over New Year.

I'll begin with the second one - held exactly a week ago tonight - headlined by some old friends in a very familiar place.

Yes, Roll With It were back in Mary Pat's in my native Macosquin for an intimate show.  No Big Marquee this time.  It was up close and personal.

It came about thanks to their absolute decency and the persuasive skills of the one and only Robert Todd who you can see below sneaking out for a cool down.  (I can't wait for his next trick, with details to be revealed here soon).

When I tell you that just two nights earlier, Roll With It wowed a 900-strong sell-out crowd in their home city of Belfast, you'll appreciate what a huge gesture it was by them to come to Macosquin.

 
When they first played in the village in August 2015, they were relatively unknown although certainly on the up.

They are now firmly established as Ireland's outstanding Oasis tribute band.  They're also the best part-time live act I've seen.

I have no doubt that they would be equally successful on this side of the Irish Sea and I'd love them to give it a go.

But for now, if you live on Emerald Isle, I'd urge you to see them wherever you can.  Here are some dates and venues to choose from in the coming months.  

 
That's Nick on the left, Mark on the right.

They're madferit.

Big F in Festive (Season)

Greetings campers, and let me be the very last to wish you a Happy New Year.  Let's hope that it's a lot more fun than the crock of poo 2016 turned into.

Looking back to the festive period, after a Christmas Eve of excitement mixed with fear, Santa Claus did eventually come...  

...and even Charlotte seemed pleased with what he brought.

Next on the menu was Tiffany the turkey, who seemed a cool chick to begin with.  But the temperature soon rose and that was the end of her.   

On the upside, she went down well.  (Gobble, gobble). 

After a couple of days to tidy up, it was off to Northern Ireland's Causeway Coast to begin the build-up to 2017.

Vanessa and I headed off to two top quality gigs on our first three nights.  More about those in the coming days.

And then as the sun went down on the shittiest of all shit years, we thought it only appropriate to go out to celebrate its demise.

Charlotte was allowed to stay up on New Year's Eve for the very first time, so decided to make a bit of an effort.

Before it was onto the dance floor with her big bro, cousin Katie, Auntie Jacquie and the mother one.

Things got hot about three hours in, so the young 'uns retired to the beer garden for a breath of fresh air mixed with fag smoke.  

Whilst some suitably lubricated old men watched on.

And after checking that 2016 was finally as dead as Monty Python's parrot, it was time to head back to Blighty. 

I hope you and yours had good times too.  

Feeling blue? We can Fix that

As Boxing Day draws to a close, there's neither time nor reason to get the post-Christmas blues.

Because in just 48 hours from now - that's Wednesday 28 December - the gig of the year will be getting underway at the magnificent Kiwi's Brew Bar in Portrush.

The Fix are reforming after 25 years. And it's all in the name of charity with Alzheimer's Research UK the chosen beneficiary

For so many of us who grew up on the Causeway Coast in the late 1980s and early 1990s, The Fix will be forever remembered with great affection for their live performances in the White Pheasant, Deerstalker and Barn sections of the legendary Kelly's Portrush.

 

That's me slap bang in the middle of shot - taken circa 1989 - with my mouth hanging open.  What a stunner. 

And now a shared desire to raise much-needed funding to tackle dementia has persuaded original frontman Jonny Lennox and bassist Paul Beattie to come back together after 25 years to play on Wednesday night.  They will be joined by new boy Peter Jamison on drums and percussion.

See. Age can sometimes be kind.  I hate them.

Entry is free but everyone will be asked to place a donation to Alzheimer's Research UK into a guitar case at the front of the stage.

And the show itself is just part of the band’s efforts to raise cash for a cause close to many people’s hearts.

Raffle tickets priced at £5 are already on sale with a range of exciting prizes donated by local businesses up for grabs.

These include a:

Brand new 5/3 wetsuit from Troggs, Portrush
Voucher for Causeway Coast Foodie Tours
Voucher for the Causeway Coasteering
Voucher for lessons with Portrush Surf School
Framed picture of the Dark Hedges from Northern Shore Photography
Framed Hugh Adams Northern Ireland-inspired print
Framed picture from A Broader Picture, Portstewart
Gift voucher for Truva Chargrill, Coleraine

Raffle tickets can be bought in person at Kiwi’s Brew Bar and Troggs.

Alternatively, you can log on to www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Alzheimer-raffle-Portrush and, for every £5 donated, a raffle ticket number will be allocated. 

Jonny Lennox, lead vocalist and guitarist with the Fix, said: "We’re delighted by the response since the gig was announced. More than £1,500 has already been raised from the raffle and we’re very grateful to the businesses who have been so kind in providing prizes.  We have set ourselves a target of £2,500 and I’m very hopeful that we’re get there.

"Thanks also to Kris Charteris at Kiwi’s Brew Bar, which recently won the Urban category at the 2016 Northern Ireland Pub of the Year Awards, for providing the venue and helping us to promote the event.

"The pressure is now on us old boys to put on a show worthy of Alzheimer's Research UK, the excellent cause we want to help.  We’re deep into rehearsals and aim to recreate some of the old magic from a time when we had a lot more hair and a lot less to worry about!  I hope local people and visitors to the North Coast will get behind us.  It promises to be a great night."    

Kris Charteris, owner of Kiwi’s Brew Bar, said: "Jonny has always been a great supporter of mine and it is a pleasure to do my bit to help The Fix raise what I hope will be a heap of cash for Alzheimer's Research UK. Portrush is where the band made its name and it’s appropriate that they will be rekindling the old magic right in the heart of the town."

One of Alzheimer’s Research UK’s most prominent supporters is award-winning Coleraine actor James Nesbitt whose mother passed away with Alzheimer’s disease in 2012 after what he calls ‘the longest goodbye’. The Cold Feet star spoke at the Alzheimer’s Research UK 2013 Network Conference where he made a powerful call for greater investment in dementia research.

Hannah Reynolds, Community and Sporting Officer at Alzheimer’s Research UK, said: "We are delighted that The Fix will be reuniting after 25 years especially for a Christmas gig in support of Alzheimer’s Research UK. It is fantastic news that £1,500 has already been raised before the event has taken place. Supporters like The Fix help us in our quest to find effective treatments and preventions for dementia, a condition which more than 20,000 people are living with in Northern Ireland."

Please come along if you can. I've seen the setlist and, trust me, it's going to be fantastic.  

The boys are due on stage at 10pm with a late bar to follow.  I'll be somewhere near the front trying desperately not to get too nostalgic.  And failing dismally.  I hope to see you there.

Three Whites and I'm out

It was late afternoon on Friday when I was finally given the go-ahead to leave the Leeds General Infirmary, having been there since Monday morning.

I suspect - in fact, I know - many of you will have many worse tales to tell than I have. But, 48 hours on, I have no shame in admitting that the whole hospital experience rocked me to the core.

After my arm had a fairly negative reaction to Wednesday's operation, it looked odds-on that I wouldn't be released until after the weekend.

I spoke to one of the nurses about it on Thursday and explained that it was Charlotte's 6th birthday party on Saturday and I had to be there.

The nurse came back to me a little later to say that she could arrange for me to travel. But as things stood, I would have to return to hospital immediately afterwards. A very kind and generous idea. However, presented with it, I think I would've chosen to stay where I was. Saying goodbye would've been too tough.

Whatever happened in the subsequent 12 hours is beyond be. But the swelling and pain in my arm did somehow reduce enough for me to convince the consultant on Friday to sign my papers for release later in the day.

And I got to Charlotte's party.

I hope Miss White enjoyed it as much as her doting daddy. (The only downside was discovering shortly beforehand that our friendly neighbourhood burglars from two weeks ago  - remember them? - had also stolen my camera).

As to what happens next, I'm actually due back at the LGI first thing tomorrow morning to check that all things hand and arm are heading in the right direction.

I'm still on heavy antibiotics but the swelling is definitely on the wane, which is great. As long as that continues, the only remaining challenge is the wound on my hand from the operation. It's horrific. Seriously. It looks like Piers Morgan. They're hoping it will heal itself. Otherwise there's the possibility of having to go through a skin graft, which would really put the icing on my Christmas cake. But we'll cross that crocodile-infested ditch if we're forced to.

For now, I want to thank anyone and everyone who's been so kind to me (and Vanessa, which is even more appreciated) over the last week. It made a real difference, especially when the outlook wasn't so hot.

I was really taken aback this afternoon when my top man friend Dylan turned up with his superstar son Sion to hand over an amazing card from the Aireborough Lions U9s. Dylan had designed it himself and a load of the boys and their parents had signed it.

Neither Jamie nor I have been at rugby for three weeks; first because of the break-in and then because of my illness. Jamie was just as flattered by the thought behind the card as I was. We promise that we'll be the first in line for training come January.

Poisoned elbow to the chops

And so the story moves on although, sadly, I'm staying where I am for a bit longer yet.

After a surprisingly good night's sleep on Tuesday and waking up on Wednesday with a right arm that seemed to have reduced in swelling, events took a disappointing turn.

The consultant wasn't happy with the way the wound on my hand was looking at him, and added my name to the afternoon surgery list.

I returned on a wheelchair a few hours later with my arm looking like this.

The arrow - painted on specially to inform one of Yorkshire's brightest surgical minds exactly where my hand is - also marks roughly where my current problem now lies.

The hand itself is still pretty big after the operation but seems to be recovering OK. But the rest of my arm - particularly around my elbow - is being less helpful and, if anything, is more of a problem now than before its mandatory trip to the theatre.

The LGI brains trust has just met and, after considering changing my antibiotics drips, have kept them as they are. Four times a day, pretty much max strength. 

And we just have to keep on going.

I've had two drips today already, there's another due around 8pm and my last sometime after midnight.

Then we start again around 6.30am.

By that time, hopefully the arm will be doing the opposite of bigging itself up and, when the consultant comes to see me at 8am-ish, he'll say that I'm close to release. But it's impossible to tell and I'd be lying if I said that confidence is high. 

Be assured though that I intend to remain optimistic.

Red Hand of Ulster

Like most kids large and small, I normally love December. But this month is proving to be a dishonourable exception.

I've already bleated on here about our little house break-in where our visitors didn't take much but chose to transport what they had in our car. Still no sign of that.

Well, there's been another development.

I was in the bathroom on Friday morning and turned around to walk out the door. But because I'm a clumsy so and so, I managed to catch my hand on the corner of the wall.

It left a mark of probably around an inch, with the skin being broken by only about a quarter of that. And only superficially. No big deal. I seem to have a minor accident at least once a week these days. We move on.

It was little bit stingy for the rest of the day, but I barely thought any more about it.

And when I woke on Saturday, the mark was still there but there was no pain at all.

However, as I was about to get up, I suddenly felt all sickie-bokey. And within a few minutes, I'd barfed up twice. Just great.

The nausea kicked in after that and I was forced to spend the entire weekend in bed. And the longer I lay, the sorer my hand and then arm became.

This was how my hand looked on Monday  morning.

The photo was taken at Leeds General Infirmary.

This is me have my having my first go on the intravenous drip shortly afterwards. (They connected me by my 'good'/broken arm).

And this was how I slept on the ward last night.

Big up, aiiiii.

Things have since taken a turn for the better, starting this morning with the consultant ruling out any immediate need for plastic surgery. (I did ask if I could throw my chin and nose into the mix, but he said no). And the swelling in my hand and arm has definitely gone down.

I'm being kept in for at least another night and there could be more to follow. But hey ho, it's not Charlotte's birthday party until Saturday and I'd be very unlucky to miss out on that.

Then let the Christmas frivolities begin.

Unless there's a lightning storm, because I'm toast.