24 hours in A&E

Well, not quite but currently about 10 hours and counting.

Went out for a bike ride with my son today. I haven't been very active lately due to a combination of COVID and an almost back to back series of lower limb ailments since summer.

I'm constantly trying to restart some degree of fitness kick in the hope that it will help with my various issues.

My son had asked about cycling this week so it seemed like a good opportunity to combine a healthy ride with dad-son time.

It wasn't an especially energetic ride but there were a few hills and I was struggling on these to the extent that I decided to shorten the ride and just get home. 

With a couple of miles to go I was feeling sufficiently puffed and with some tightness of the chest to stop and have a puff of the GTN spray I carry everywhere.

However, rather than helping it seemed to make me very lightheaded and my vision became almost psychedelic. My son said I was yawning a lot and wasn't responding to him. He thinks I blacked out at one point.

We were in a park and luckily there was a man there who helped. My son, who is 16, was immense, calling the emergency services, providing them with details of what happened and where we were, and looping in my wife who was elsewhere.

The guy was great. He was an Afghani gentleman who had worked for the government in Kabul but couldn't stay when it all kicked off. He literally gave me the shirt off his back as I was shivering so much, as well as providing a blanket and trackie bottoms. He offered for us to come to his home but I was pretty shaky and my son didn't want to walk too far. I'm so grateful to both of them.

I'm also very grateful to my sister in law who raced over from her house to pick us up and take us to the hospital. The ambulance looked like being a long time coming. 

I thought that this was a heart attack. I'm still waiting for results but feeling a lot better now, to the extent of being antsy about being here. I know I shouldn't be. It's busy, as it always is but the staff are calm and caring. I feel I'm in good hands but I would like to get home before that 24 figure becomes reality.

It's good to be back

Oasis are returning and dads of Britain are getting very excited.

Everyone has their Oasis connection - they were omnipresent in the late 90s. And with a reunion tour rumoured to include 10 nights at Wembley, there will be room for all. Whether they retain (or have ever had) that level of appeal is another matter.

I saw them four times in their pomp and that's probably enough for me. The idea of standing among coked up Oasis fans in a football stadium that still reminds me of how badly behaved England fans can be, is as appealing as having my eyebrows plucked - something the metrosexual Gallaghers of 2024 probably know more about than their oikish younger selves.

The first time I saw them was just before Definitely Maybe came out. The early singles were the most exciting things I'd heard in years and I got tickets for their show at the Kentish Town Town & Country Club which was about 10 minutes walk from where I lived in Chalk Farm.

Surprisingly, the gig was pretty flat through a combination of unfamiliarity with the album, which wasn't yet out, and a standoff between bolshie band and an entitled London crowd. I maintain that if they'd played a week later when people had heard how brilliant Definitely Maybe was, they'd have blown the roof off.

The next live appearance was on the morning of the release of What's the Story at a 'secret' gig at the old Oxford Street Virgin Megastore. In a sign of things to come Liam stropped off drunk so I never got his signature on my copy of the album - Noel's is though.

A couple of months later they redeemed themselves with a great pre-Christmas gig at the Hammersmith Palais which was probably their peak for me. The two things that stick in my mind have nothing to do with the show itself though. It was where two friends, who are now married, got together, and I bumped into underachieving singer songwriter Nikki Sudden (a slight obsession of mine) at the bar.

After that high point it was a while before I saw them again. I had no interest in the Knebworth love in, but for some reason decided it would be a good idea to see them in Finsbury Park in 2002, probably because it was nearish to where I lived in Hackney.

Bad idea actually. The crowd was a menacing, belligerent bunch of mainly men, off their heads and bellowing at the few women there to 'get 'em out'. It really didn't feel safe for women.

And the band themselves were bored and boring. I was glad to get away from there with my then girlfriend, now wife. I don't think either of us were that bothered about Oasis for a long time after that.

Yet, they still linger and I'm not completely immune to their charms. It's just that they seem slightly comic nowadays. The cutting description of Liam as "one of the great anorak wearers of our times" still makes me snigger.

As an amateur strummer, I have a certain respect for Noel's gift with melody. You only have to play that Em7 chord and warble "Today is gonna be the day..." to have the rest of the room chime in.

But see them live again? No thanks. If they meant anything to my kids I might sort out the inevitably overpriced tickets, but if they're even on their radar, it's as a bit of a joke band - the old guys with the big eyebrows.

Hopefully there will be enough multigenerational and mixed sex groups at the upcoming shows to make them more joyous and less sinister than the last time I saw them. Both Liam and Noel are dads themselves now and it's always been a family affair.

For me though, I think I'll wait for the inevitable showing on the idiot box. That's as close as I need to be this time. Definitely... maybe...

White riot

Worrying times in England. The last few nights have seen coordinated rioting in mainly northern English towns and cities - Leeds, Liverpool, Manchester, Hull, Rotherham.

It's rioting weather - hot and warm. The schools are on holiday. There's no football on and possibly lingering grievance that England didn't win the Euros.

The spark was a horrific attack on a children's event in Southport that left three girls dead. This has been weaponised by online right wing provocateurs calling for protests against immigration - the attacker was actually a British national.

As often with these outbreaks copycat events have occurred. At the moment, it feels like things are teetering on the edge and police are struggling to cope.

The obvious comparison is the rioting of 2011. The genesis was different but the rapid spread, the descent into violence and looting, and the overwhelming of police forces all looks horribly familiar.

There are big differences though. There is a racist element to this rioting. Asylum seeker hotels are being targeted. Shops and businesses owned by minority groups have been targeted. Black people have been attacked by racists.

It's nauseating to see the cocky way in which young white men have embraced these riots. Any cover that they were in some ways protests about Southport disappeared pretty quickly. They've devolved into a coke and booze fuelled carnivals of idiocy by prats in balaclavas and track suits. Parading their battered streets with twin armed salutes at possibly the most meaningful moment in their lives. Hold that smile lads - it's all on camera.

There will inevitably be long sentences for many of these dickheads, and so there should be. It's not a crime to be thick and gullible but it'll get you banged up.

Hopefully there will also be comeuppance for those who have thrown fuel on the fire, whether that's the keyboard warriors who spread disinformation and organised riots, or the snake tongued politicians like Farage who give them succour and encouragement. Shame on them.

For now it's sad and concerning as another night of increasingly violent rioting looms. As in the hot summer in 2011, I'm hoping for a downpour to dampen the enthusiasm of fairweather knuckle draggers.

Of course, a year after the 2011 riots came the triumphant London Olympics of 2012 which still feel like a hug around the country. 

Don't let the idiots win. There are more of us than them.

Labour landslide

The election already seems an age away after the lead up to the day seemed like we had entered slow motion.

Thursday was a real slog. A beautifully sunny day, we voted in Colchester and also in picturesque Dedham for Charlotte's friend Catherine who lives in Spain.

Then we waited. Charlotte went out to see The Bluetones leaving me home alone. Well, the kids were here but showed little interest in potentially witnessing history.

I was so nervous before the exit poll fearing a late Tory surge. However, the prediction was for a Labour landslide. This was tempered by one of the night's other stunning events - Reform predicted to get 13 MPs.

There has inevitably been a ton written about the result, but I'd like to add a few personal observations.

Firstly, I'm happy, which bears recording now as the naysaying has already started. Britain does need change and the Tories were never going to deliver it.

My expectations are set fairly low. Starmer is bang on in managing expectations. There is a lot to be done but surely Change Labour or whatever they'll be called can deliver more than their predecessors. Contrary to the slagging in the campaign, I think they do have a plan but don't expect fireworks.

As such, it's a victory for the centrist dads, and I'm okay with that. No more drama for a while.

Colchester has it's first female MP and the first Labour one in an age. I never thought I'd see that so soon. Pam Cox smashed former Olympics oarsman James Cracknell an' all.

Reform's performance is worrying. I don't see what they offer anyone beyond a protest vote. Farage doesn't give a damn for Clacton or any of the blighted spots they're spewing their hate. They're not going away though. Best argument against PR evah!

In ordinary times Labour would be settling in for at least 10.years given how the Tories have imploded. But these aren't normal times. Labour itself is back from the brink of 2019 to lay waste to Sunak, helped by Reform. They really have to deliver for a cynical and unforgiving population, and they face a bucket load of challenges. This will be the shortest political honeymoon ever. I wish them well - they'll need it.

Election day tomorrow

I can't remember a general election where the result has seemed so preordained. 

Actually, that's wrong. Lots of Tory wins have seemed inevitable. It's the opposition wins that always seem unlikely.

This time however it looks like Labour will be the next government. Unless the polling and pundit industry have got things seriously wrong, the only question seems to be how big the majority will be.

Such certainty makes many people (me) cringe. I well remember 1992 when many people (not me) thought it was in the bag. It was one of many electoral disappointments in the past couple of decades.

Is 2024 different? It seems so. Labour started with a 20%+ lead in polls but surely this would close as the long campaign ran. Well, it hasn't.

The Tories have had a string of gaffes - Dunkirk, Gambling-gate, dodgy tax claims - but that 20% hasn't budged. The re-emergence of Farage with his Reform Ltd vehicle has also hurt them. It looks like he will be a local MP to us - Clacton is just half an hour from here.

Colchester itself is in play for Labour, and a string of nearby Tories could lose their seats - something that would have been inconceivable after the Labour collapse at the last GE.

Keir Starmer really has done quite a job although few seem to give him much credit. They call him dull, lacking in ideas, stiff, and uninspiring. That seems harsh to me. After what we've had with Truss and Johnson, competence, which he has in buckets, will seem almost revolutionary.

A massive Labour 'supermajority' (no such thing in our GE, I know) will not mean anything to me. A good working majority will be plenty. Anything more though will demonstrate how fully the country has turned against the Tories. To use a phrase beloved of Boris Johnson, a punishment beating could be on its way. 

Is it deserved? That's for voters to decide.

It will be massive weight off many shoulders if Starmer walks into 10 Downing St on Friday. But expectations should be tempered. Blair faced a similar situation in 1997 but the winds were more in his favour economically. Britain expects the Change that Labour says it can deliver but Starmer and Reeves have been caution exemplified. It will take time to sort out a lot of the mess the Tories have left. A few early quick wins would be clever and I don't doubt they'll learn from New Labour that feel good policies in the early days will create a sense of movement.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. No votes have been counted yet and the time between now and the much anticipated exit poll tomorrow night will seem like an age. And the time before the count confirms it will seem even longer.

But we've waited 14 years. We can wait a little longer.

Summer in the city

Colchester is officially a city now but as I had to head into London today, I mean the Smoke.

It was approaching the mid 20s as I lumbered off to the station carting a rucksack containing my ancient, breezeblock laptop, in the off chance I would do some work at the conference I was attending.

(Reader, I did!)

I'm even less great in the morning than I used to be. Not a morning person. Not an afternoon or evening person either.

And definitely not a heat person. Therefore I opted for comfort over style with my normcore outfit of chinos (with in built elastic adjusters 👌), check shirt, and trainers. Can't work out whether the look is more Woody Allen or the Only Me dad.

Despite the heat, I returned to the house to pick up a fleece 'just in case'.

Once on the train, it was a bit more relaxed. AC was on max which helped. Because the past few days have been pretty, pretty hot.

Heading into London reminded me of the difference a mini heatwave makes. Britain goes into a kind of weird fever dream. It feels like a different place - one that offers up the chance of a different way of being. People smile more, there's a sense that there's more to life than work, and everything looks a bit more exotic. The shittiest street corner can be transformed into a bit of the Med or the Caribbean with a coupla chairs to sit and take in the passing tapestry of life.

We can never get it quite right though. A few days is usually enough before the fever breaks, and usually some shop windows and bus shelters too. It's the heat. And the booze. 

Those few days are priceless though. I remember one hot summer in my teens when my football team played some early evening games in the fading heat of the day. 

We usually played on battered, muddy pitches on wet and cold Sundays. For these games we were upgraded to the flatter, less battered pitches, baked to a dusty hardness by a few weeks of good weather.

Some of the local girls came to see us and cheer us on - I felt like a legend even though we were notoriously crap. It's one of my abiding memories of that age.

Did we win? I can't remember, but I felt like a winner.

Everything feels different in the sun.

Mush alert!

It's nice to have a day where the focus is on you as a dad but for me every day is a father's day.

I've always loved being a dad and it doesn't seem to diminish as the kids get older. Sure, they were a lot more obviously cute when they were little as opposed to the hulking great teenage eating machines they are now. However, they continue to delight in different ways.

They're smart, funny, annoying, intriguing, and endlessly fascinating to me. Now they've reached a certain age, I'm sure that I'm about as interesting to them as an ancient tortoise, so I'm grateful for their forbearance.

Anyway, thanks for the gifts lads. They are appreciated but entirely unnecessary. Just keep being you.