Letters to my sons.

“Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.” Samuel Johnson.

Dear Son,

I think that I have mentioned this before but it struck me again on the way to the airport last week – I love living in London. I have lived in many places over the years but London is the longest place I have lived any where and the house we live in now is the longest property I have ever lived in.

One of the things I like about London is the endless chatter regarding routes around town. To get to Heathrow I decided to go through the centre of town, the quickest way was down Carpenters Lane, through Hackney, down Essex Road, onto Upper Street and then left at Angel and keep following the road over the West Way until Northolt and then a left which brings you out on the M3 one junction before the Heathrow turn off. I spoke to my best man on the phone at Heathrow and we discussed the different routes and the problems each one has. Learning different routes though London and finding a short cut always gives me joy.

When we went to Trinidad for your Uncle Wendell’s wedding we got stuck when the traffic lights on the West Way became out of sync. Luckily we were able to turn off just after Angel and head for the North Circular. The time before that we were caught on the slip road into Heathrow which was jammed because a car had broken down in the tunnel to terminal 3. So it was nice this time to make really good time to Heathrow without any dramas.

The beauty of London is that almost everything is here. If I want to eat at an Afghan restaurant then go onto a Yemeni music evening before a few swift drinks in a Turkish bar – I can do. The thing is, I never choose to do this. I suppose having the choice is nice to have, something that I couldn’t do if we lived out in the sticks.

There is quite a lot of wild life in London if you know where to look – and you do! All the time you are telling me that you can see a bird, a doggie, a cat and sometimes even an elephant. You haven’t quite got the gist of squirrels yet although they are moving into the street and you don’t stay up late enough to see the urban foxes or hedgehogs that frequent our back garden.

In Trinidad we saw loads of animal that we don’t see here. Bats, parrots, hummingbirds and a great big lizard in Grandpa Warners garden. We also saw a heron in one of the drainage ditches and heard the frogs and crickets that call out all night only for the dawn chorus to kick in with first light. I watched a video shot in Trinidad and the big thing I noticed was the sound of the birds singing – something you don’t really hear in London.

I think I could live in Trinidad but I would miss the hustle and bustle of London, the finding of a cabbie route and the opportunity not to eat Mongolian curry. I am nor tired of life just yet.

Dear Son,

on Tuesday 23rd January 2007 we recieved the sad news that your Great Grandmother, Tantie Winnie, had died. Her death certificate says that she died around 9pm on the 22nd January – the difference being down to the 4 hour time difference between here and Trindad.

You mother was very upset and spent Tuesday organising flights to Trinidad for the three of us. We dropped her off at Stratford in the snow on Wednesday morning as she made her way to Trinidad and we followed on Thursday. The flight was split into two parts, London to Barbados and then Barbados to Trinidad. The first part was 8 hours although you fell asleep just before take off as we were taxing up the runway. When you woke up about an hours of the flight was over and you spent the next 30 minutes eating. That left 6 and a half hours of me entertaining you with books, walks around the plane, songs and watching bits of the inflight film.

We waited what seemed an age at Barbados before boarding the plane to Piarco International and by that time you were asleep. Your mother was waiting for us in Trinidad as was Uncle Wayne who gave us a lift to Tantie Winnies house where the wake was in full swing. Out the front people where playing cards and drinking, whilst around the back people where just drinking. The atmosphere was quite jolly and I found this a little odd at the time. While it was only coming up to 10pm Trinidad time it was coming up to 2am English time so you and I departed for our beds.

Around 4am Trinidad time you and I were both wide awake so we had a quick change and then went back to the wake that was still going on but with reduced numbers. I decided that you and I should stay on English time so we had our breakfast in the dark, you had your morning milk at 6.30am, lunch at 8am and afternoon sleep at 9am.

The funeral was a very emotional affair. The coffin was palced at the entrance to the church and opened so that the mourners could pass. When the service was ready to begin the coffin was closed and brought into church. Your mother read the eulogy she had written for your great grnadma, hymns were sung and prayers said. The coffin was then wheeled to the entrance of the church and opened again for the mourners not attending the burial to say good bye. We then moved off to the grave yard, the coffin was opened again and more songs and prayers were said. Finally the coffin was lowered into the grave and before the coffin could be covered with soil all the male great grand children were passed over hole, Uncle Wendel on one side passing you over to Garth. As the youngest great grand child you went last. Uncle Wendel is Winnies eldest grandson and Garth is her youngest – the symbolism to me was the unbreaking line of familly that goes back through the generations.

After the sadness of the funeral we went back to Winnie’s house for another party and the jovial mood returned. It was at this point that I realised that the whole funeral event; the wake, the funeral and the after party, were all about celebrating the life of the person, letting ones emotions out and then celebrating the life that continues, life shaped and improved for knowing and loving the deceased.

I sobbed like a good ‘un throughout most of the funeral – some of it was down to my anger and frustration at knowing my own death is unstopable and also because I never grieved properly for my own mother. The way the funeral was done in Trinidad was much better than in England, at my mothers funeral (your Grandma Audrey) I didn’t cry that much because it was hard to image the woman I knew as being so full of life was in the wooden box being paraded around. By opening the coffin in Trinidad it forces home the death of the person is a real way that unleashes (for me anyway) the grief. I now feel better about the death of my mother – I still miss her and i wish she was still here to see you walking and learning to talk – but I think my acceptance of her death is closer than it was before. And for that Tantie Winnie I am enternaly greatful.

Dear Son,

yesterday you attended your first ever football match, Tottenham versus the Toon Army. We were sat in the away end with about 1000 other Geordies singing and clapping the whole way through. You seemed to enjoy the whole day out; from the train ride down there, running around underneath the stand, the actual game itself and then the train journey home.

All day to day you have been singing songs from the match at nursery, the Obafemi Martins song getting the most airplay although you haven’t quite got the words yet which is a good thing as there were some other choice songs being sung by both sides. The best chant was by the Newcastle fans aimed at the Tottenham fans: You’re just a small town in Arsenal.

Before the game had even started you and I went for a quick look to see who was on the pitch and there, only a few feet from where we were stood, was the Newcastle first team going through their paces. I pointed out all the players I recognised but with the current injury crisis there were a few new faces – one who was to become better know to me in the new future.

The game got off to a flying start from Tottenham and they were all over Newcastle but their finishing was poor until Defoe scored from an offside position for Tottenham. Newcastle simply went down the other end and scored themselves, Paul Huntington heading the ball against one of his own players before lashing the ball home.

Chances came and went and then it was half time. Tottenham came out all guns blazing for the second half and managed to score another goal putting them 2-1 up. I wondered how long the Toon could hold out before it went 3-1 to Tottenham, your mother calls this “to catastrophise” and is something I tend to do quite often; again according to your mother.

With these thoughts going through my head the ball was played to Obafemi and he started to run with ball but away from goal. Then he just thumped the ball into the Tottenham goal from 24 yards out, the ball travelling at 84mph. Delirium in the away end ensued because the strike was so totally unexpected – a real bolt from the blue that also took the Tottenham goalkeeper (Paul Robinson) by surprise.

I promised to call your cousin Lewis every time Newcastle scored and I had just got off the phone when Nicky Butt expertly passed the ball into the net when fed a sublime through ball by Obafemi. Cue wild and rampant celebrations in the away end and stony silence from the home fans. Defoe managed to hit the Newcastle woodwork before the end and the 3 minutes of added on time seemed to last for nearer 30 for me but Newcastle prevailed.

I PVRed Match of the Day and guess what? You, me and your mother were all on television last night.

Hopefully this is not the last Toon game all 3 of us will be going to. Howay the lads!

Dear Son,

earlier in the year I made some predictions regarding the airplane terror plot and it seems that I’m right so far. The main organiser of the whole plot was apparently a man named Rashid Rauf. He is in under arrest in Pakistan at the moment but a judge has decided that he isn’t a terrorist and he is due to be tried in a normal court.

So if the ringleader is not a terrorist ring leader then what of the poeple arrested because they were associated  with Rauf?

Will be find out sooner or later, much later I’m guessing.

Dear Son,

I’m not one to get excited about going out and partying. To be honest I would rather stay in and have an early night but I am getting excited about going to Trinidad for Carnival 2007. Your mothers half-cousin Nina has managed to get hold of two tickets for Breakfast Fete. The tickets are as rare as hen’s teeth but she has connections.

You went to this party in the womb in 2005. I wasn’t drinking because I had eaten something bad a couple of days before and I still hadn’t got over it. Although your mother will say I drank too much at The Presidents Fete a couple of days before. I did drink a lot but I was ill when I turned up.

It is nice to go to a place where the President wears carnival costume and dances through the streets and organises a huge party – just a shame that he needs machine gunned tooled up security and charges £50 for his parties. An amount not easily affordable to the majority of the population.

I’m also looking forward to J’Ouvert and I found a picture of your Uncle Keith on the Mudders International Web site – he’s on the right hand side at the top. Hopefully he’ll be on the road this year as well as your other Uncles so we can a good lads blow out. I’m also hoping that your mother doesn’t mind driving us in and back out of Port of Spain when we are covered in mud. I’m sure she won’t mind too much although the car rental people might have different idea’s.

Dear Son,

we were playing on the step between the hall and the kitchen again today. In this game I pick you up and then “fall” off the step and into the kitchen, regaining my balance by stumbling around in the kitchen. As I “fall” from the step I make an “ooooooOOOOOHHHH!” sound although lately you have been doing the sound for me.

In the past you have played the game by yourself but you had to hold onto the wall because you couldn’t get down the step without holding on. Well today you were able to go down and back up the step without holding onto the wall.

One small step for a toddler …
I have been writing up a couple of long missives on a group of stupid people. I could spend my the rest of my life pointing out their lies and failures in simple logic but I have a couple of examples to explain my point. When they are finished I will publish. And be damned no doubt.

Dear Son,

I have just bought a copy of a “Love don’t let me go” so we can have a dance around the kitchen tomorrow morning before nursery.

I can’t wait!

BBC NEWS | Politics | Cost of 2012 Olympics ‘up £900m’

Dear Son,

when London won the Olympics I was excited at the idea of a huge sporting event taking place on our doorstep. At the same time I was sure the money could be better spent on housing and health care.

The cost’s for the event have just gone up by £900 million pounds, £400 million of that is to pay the “delivery partner” to make sure the thing comes in on time and on budget.

Well it can’t now come in on budget because they have blown £400 million on their “delivery partner”.

The political fall out is as silly as ever. The Liberal Democrats are saying that the government should fit the bill for the over spend. Governments don’t have any money of their own – only what they can thieve from the general public. If they were sugesting that the people who got the sums wrong should cough up – that would be a good idea. The government is thinking of charging Londerners an extra £20 a year for the next 25 years to cover the shortfall. I see the reason for making Londerners pay – the benefits to the North of Scotland form the influx of money that the games are supposed to generate won’t be felt there.
What amazes me is that governments can never get an estimate correct for a piece of work. Why don’t they simply double any quote they recieve and publish this number as the amount the project they are working on will cost? That way everything should come in under budget.

More price hikes are expected as “security” needs beefing up from the original estimate.

My head has taken over and I now think that the games will be a big waste of money – not just because Londoners will be paying extra as London has some of the poorest people in the country – but because London needs more homes and money spending on schools. Not a big stadium and some parking.

On the 25th February 2003 the current Prime Minister made a speech in the House of Commons when he said the following:

The second point is that there is a reason why I responded to a moral case, namely, that a moral case was being put against action. It was being said that, of course, innocent people will die in conflict, and that is true. Innocent people do die, which is why we have striven so hard over 12 years to avoid going back into conflict with Saddam. However, it is also right, in responding to that moral case, to point out the utter misery and deprivation of the people in Iraq, and to state what is a fact: that those who have most to gain from the end of the regime of Saddam Hussein are the Iraqi people themselves.

A UN report today says that torture is worse now in Iraq than it was under Saddam Hussein. Tony Blair will be gone soon but the consequences of his lies will be with us for a many years to come.

Dear Son,

Nottinghill Carnival is upon us yet again. Before I met your mother I had never been as I didn’t see the attraction. Watching people in costumes dance past whilst being crushed by the crowds seemed like a bad idea. I still think the same thing but since 2001 I have taken part and been one of the people behind a float, dancing past.

We play Chocolate Mas with Pure Lime and for the last couple of years have been on the committee that organises the whole event. Not that either myself or your mother would take credit, that belongs to the people who have worked hard over the years. Pure Lime is now the biggest group in Nottinghill Carnival and we get a lot of jealous people because of our success. We also have certain people trying to copy us as well.

Pure Lime’s Chocolate Mas is based on Jouvert celebrations in Trinidad. The differences are small: for Jouvert the start time is the early hours of the morning. My favourite Jouvert Band, Mudders International, start around 3am. For Nottinghill we start around 11am. You covered in mud, paint and grease at Jouvert in Trinidad, Pure Lime use chocolate instead. Chocolate was chosen because finding mud that could be added to hot water and smeared on a body was impossible to find. Also you can have more fun with chocolate than you can with mud.

You are still far too young to take part in carnival although you followed a float around the streets of Trinidad while still in the womb, I have the pictures of your mother to prove it – at the Mas Camp and then on Tragrete Road.

I suppose the moral of the story is this: taking part is usually more fun than watching.