Risking A Bit Of Heart-Felt

Day 140,Wednesday, May 20, 7am: I am feeling so, so, so, so good. Despite feeling pretty lousy. In fact, I'm feeling so good that I sometimes forget about the cold, the sore throat and the head full of cotton wool.

This, by the way, is not an advert, it's just a bit of Heart-Felt. Which, admittedly, is not to be encouraged, not too often anyway, and preferably not in public. But here goes. I'll risk it...

To date, I have had five reactions to my book and they've all been overwhelmingly generous. And, do you know, that is enough. That is all, and probably more, than I ever hoped for. I wanted somebody - just one somebody, not five of them - to get something out of it. I put a fair bit of feeling into the book, in between the flippancy, and I wanted somebody to notice.

I have never much rated what I do. I was a jobbing journalist for years. I wrote as well as I could but it didn't seem to add up to much. As a wire journalist, you wrote against the clock - or rather, against the unmerciless tick-tock of the second hand - and you never saw your audience. Your texts disappeared into the ether, never to be re-visited again. And, try as I could, I never considered that writing about sport could be termed as anything much more than froth.

But here I am with a book, and with five people who liked it. Bloody hell. That's a serious, serious highlight. So to Matthew, Martin, Juliet, Godfather John and Chris - thank you so much. You have made an old, decrepit, fat, burnt-out excuse of a house dad very happy indeed.

It won't last, of course.

In fact, I feel the Heart-Felt getting a bit over-bearing already. Back to the tried-and tested general grumpiness... it's so much comfortable to deal with.

In Praise of Glen The Human Fish (With Apologies to John The Fish)

Day 139, Tuesday May 19, 8.15am: Guys, this blog - thanks to Glen, and to you - has achieved something of value.

Which, frankly, is something of a surprise.

Having struggled with my health in recent weeks, I was beginning to doubt that it was worth carrying on these jottings - it's hard to be an achiever, after all, when you feel like you've been run over by a truck. But then Glen came along. This man is an achiever. For the record, he had intended to swim 10,000 metres over six hours at the weekend in memory of his wife Tamsin but ended up by storming to 14,000. That's 8.7 miles, I'm told. Absolutely incredible. He could barely move afterwards. He's raised more than 1,000 pounds at the last count. TRSNYRC helped raise 485 pounds.

Quod erat demonstrandum - this blog is worth 485 quid. Which is about 485 more than it was worth a few weeks ago. Actually, 486, if we're completely honest. Perhaps we should try and float it on the FTSE. Bagsee be Fred the Shred...

Having not achieved anything myself for a fair while, I shall resort instead to a joke for my conclusion.

Eight-Year-Old Know-It-All Daughter overheard speaking to her friend the other day: "Don't worry, you won't die of swine 'flu because you've just washed your hands."

Newsround has a lot to answer for.

Introducing Jolly Adam...

Day 131, Monday 11th May, 9.30am: You can go off people, you know. You can go off them quickly.

I’ve gone off Jolly Adam and I’m rapidly going off Chris The Tooth too.

You may recall that it was my intention to win a Lindfield Golf Club medal this year, or at least go round the course in six over or less. Since when, I’ve lost two medals, scored 18 over, 21 over and 16 over in my last three lamentable efforts and got a hernia.

Adam, as far as I know, does not have any New Year’s Resolutions to speak of.

But he happily joins Lindfield Golf Club and, in his first monthly medal, goes round in something too preposterous to mention – was it six over, Adam? Off a handicap of 10? All I can recall from our phone conversation on the subject – I was weeping uncontrollably at the time, so I could not hear particularly clearly – was that he was THREE UNDER after FOUR HOLES! And that, apart from winning the medal, he also got his hands on two cash prizes for hitting birdies on two of the par threes. And his handicap got cut to 9.6. I would kill for a handicap of 9.6.

We are not talking at present.

I’m still talking to Chris The Tooth, but only frostily. His resolutions involve dissertations and learning to pluck his guitar but he had the gall to go round his local course in 79 the other day.

Makes you sick. Seriously sick I'd say Swine Flu sick if that didn't betray a suspect sense of humour.

In Memory Of Tamsin

Day 127, May 7, 10.30pm - Tamsin was my godfather's daughter. A super lass. She died a year ago from cancer, aged 46. By the time she was diagnosed it was so far advanced that she only had two months to live.
Her husband Glen is about to undertake a six-hour swim for charity. He's doing it on May 17 - Tamsin's birthday.
I have decided to sponsor him and urge you to join me. I will then ask Glen for swimming tips. I have not been swimming or gone to the gym for three weeks. Last time I swam I managed two lengths before giving up. I blame my hernia, and my never-ending cold.
I suspect that Glen, who's also got two young kids to bring up, doesn't waste too much time on excuses.
I shall go to the gym tomorrow - promise. In memory of Tamsin, and in honour of Glen. In the meantime, let me know if you'd like to make it a TRSNYRC sponsorship campaign. We have 10 days.
My godfather John, by the way, has the greatest laugh. That's not strictly relevant, but I thought I'd mention it. As a boy, I remember him listening to recordings of American comedian Bob Newhart while tears of laughter rolled down his face.
Apologies for the recent blog silence, by the way. I've had a lot on. But that, as usual, is just an excuse. I swear by excuses. Which is probably why I can't swim for six minutes, let alone six hours.

Hernias Aren't All Bad

Day 111, Tuesday April 21, 10am: It's been a bad, bad few weeks.

I've a) got badly-paid work coming out of my ears b) had yet another another another cold c) so my ME is absolutely rubbish and d) if that wasn't enough, I've gone and got myself a hernia. Oh, and e), a trapped nerve in my left shoulder to boot. Otherwise, things are just great.

At least I'm not Brother Roger. He's just had his appendix whipped out and has requested he be released from his TRSNYRC pledges. Our second faller. That we know of.

I feel a bit like a fall-guy myself right now. This is the first blog entry for about 10 days, for which I apologise (to myself in particular, on the assumption that I am the only one reading it anyway). I have been snowed under writing sports internet pages on rugby and cricket. It's interesting, I can fit it in around family life, but I'd earn more per hour at Tesco's. Mind you, did you know that William Webb Ellis's grave was only re-discovered in 1958? He's buried in the south east of France, apparently. And did you know that Barry Richards only played four Test matches, all against Australia, averaging 72.57? And Graeme Pollock only played 23, all against England and Australia, and his average was only surpassed by one Sir Donald Bradman? And did you know that New Zealand took 26 years to win a Test match? No, neither did I.

Anyway, back to the hernia. Hernias, it turns out, are quite interesting too. Did you know that men are predisposed to having weaknesses in their muscle wall around the groin area? And that you can get a hernia by coughing? I think I got mine from writing sports internet pages. Anyway, I'm due for an op at the start of June. Which has rather curtailed my resolutions. I haven't been to the gym for a week, but that's mainly due to the cold. I shall go back today and do a light bike session, while wincing. Hernias, my piano teacher informs me, should not impinge on my keyboard practice (damn - there goes another excuse!).

Golf, though, is out. It's pretty painful. As for swimming, I've not tried that for a few weeks either (cold, and internet sports pages, and hernia, and shoulder) but I'll give it a go on Wednesday. Right. I can't chat on like this. I have to write the history of Pakistan cricket. Did you know that...

Some More Updates...

Day 101, Saturday April11, 11.59 pm: Some more updates…

Stopcock Clare: Resolutions - Take plumbing course/do more knitting/regular 6.15am swims/enquiring about plastering and bricklaying course/teaming up Nicky on a sewing course/taking up the guitar again.
To date - Completed plumbing course.

Fragrant Wife: Resolution - One sketch a day.

To date (I quote Burgess Hill Boot Boy, Fragrant Wife’s less fragrant husband) - “My dearest wife (who does not have access to this email account) has crafted a veritable Sistine Chapel of pictures. Some quite good and some, frankly, obscene. She's popping 'em out like rabbits pop out poo and I fear that she'll get RSI and/or the police will shut down my house as an artistic sweat shop.)

Burgess Hill Boot Boy: Resolution – To make no resolutions whatsoever.

To date - “You might be interested to hear that, due to excessive and tearful pressure from a brain-washed Son One, I have not had a fag since around 2200 on 02 February 2009. No hypnosis. No patches. No gum.”

Babak The Potter: Resolution – To do something artistic, like taking up pottery.

To date – “I'm struggling to find head space. Now that the days are a bit longer, anything is possible!”

Ramrod Rachel: Resolution - sort out weak back.

To date - Stopped going to the gym after doctor’s advice. Now taking up Pilates.

Kate The Toe Throb: Resolution – Do some serious running.

To date – “Hi Tony. Yes running still (ask recently witnessed by David Walker if you need confirmation!) All going well, still throbbing toe though!”

Sleepless Ruth (mother of nine, at the last count):

Resolution - To get some more sleep.

To date – No more sleep, not because of children but because of plumbing and electrical work on her and her husband’s work-in-progress house in Ireland.

Bill The Board: Resolution - To learn to surf before his new-born son.

To date – “Alright alright....I'll readily concede that my progress has been pitiful. I have, though, managed to fix a roof rack to my jeep for the yet-to-be purchased second-hand surfboard (please note I am learning to surf, not windsurf, bodysurf or anyothertypeofsurf). I have also selected my venue, the rather large and scary Gwithian beach near Hayle in west Cornwall. It's on the opposite coast to where I live which ensures none of my neighbours will witness my remarkable lack of balance. Local life guards have been duly alerted. However, should anybody spot me and wonder, I'm fairly sure I will be drowning not waving”

Roger The Thespian: Resolutions: 1. To adapt a one-man play for radio and hopefully get it produced and made. 2. To reacquaint myself with the piano. 3. Since I need to get one failure out of the way, to not be 43 years old in 105 minutes time. 4. To do the London-Brighton cycle ride.

To date: “Still waiting to hear if I've been accepted for bike ride. Er... that's about it. What were my other resolutions?!”

Cricketing Kuldip: Resolution - Do some walking, do some yoga every morning, in an attempt to lose weight.

To date – Walking/yoga each morning, but no weight loss. “Am told it took years to put on the weight, so don't expect it go so soon. Logical I suppose. But I am not giving up. Cant let this group down, can I ????"

Jenny The Penguin: Resolutions – Get on Facebook and try and keep in touch with people/get head around Twitter/learn how to put tunes on iPod.

Resume dieting. Become a filmgoer again after 9 years of children's films only.

To date – Going to the cinema regularly (seen Australia, Slumdog Millionaire, Frost Nixon and Revolutionary Road, Milk, The Damned United, Young Victoria ). Not got head around new technology at all.

First-Tee Juliet: Resolutions - Dyslexia teaching course/Nurturing old friendships/say ‘do more, dream less’ at least 100 times a year/learn to play golf (one lesson a week).

To date – On target with everything, even the dreaming.

Six-foot Laurie: Resolution - Hole more six-foot putts than he misses.

To date - Still missing the majority.

Matt the Mad Magistrate: Resolutions -1) ride 100 miles in a day on the way to losing weight (while eating and drinking whatever he wants – cakes and alcohol most welcome). 2) Prepare for a Masters degree in Maths. So as to carry out research at the Dept of Cosmology and Gravitation. So as to get a Phd. So as to stick two fingers up the doctors, consultant and anaesthetists living in his road (if Brian May can do it, why can’t Matt?)

3) Climb Mount Washington in New Hampshire (despite hips/kidney) 4) Rebuild his Z1000 Kawasaki and upset his neighbours (Matt was never a Hell’s Angel, he tells me, just leather jacketed, anti-social, immature, heavy drinking and belligerent). 5) And, of course, become a magistrate (thus giving him the power to incarcerate leather jacketed, anti-social, immature…

To date: 1) Magistrate application. “This is in, locked and loaded. I have been to court several times to observe the proceedings (hangings) and now it is up to the Magistrate service to accept or reject my application, which may take more than this year.” 2) Kawasaki rebuild – “The basement is now completely finished and decorated. I’lll move the gym equipment back out of the workshop and oily work can commence.”

3) “Cycling still up around the 60-70 miles level, but am sure I will get to 100 miles. 4) Health – “My kidneys have taken a big step down in the last two months and I have to be realistic that I might be on for a transplant in the next couple of months. 5) Maths Masters degree – “Revision on hold on the pure math’s as I have diverted my attention into more study on Cosmology at present. Hoping to attend a course in MIT (Boston) in a few months and to this end am revising/learning Einstein’s Special and General Theories of relativity and broad introduction to the principles of the models of how Universe is supposed to be constructed. 6) Mount Washington – “Damn hips are really buggered, but I have signed up for a 10 days walking holiday in Sutherland (Cape Wrath) area of Scotland in June to see if I can stagger up and down lots of 2,500 and 3,000 mountains.”

Sarah La Française: Resolution – Brush up French.

To date: “Little progress. I did dust down my Teach Yourself French CDs last week.”

Try Laughing Now, Scornful Suzuki Four-Year-Olds!

Day 96, Monday April 6, 11.30am: From now on, I shall answer to the name of Amadeus. I passed my Initial Grade Keyboard Exam (capital letters to try and make it sound more impressive) last week. No, I didn't just pass - no hiding of lights under bushels here - I got a merit.

Not that it was that smooth a ride. In fact, I felt like a schoolboy in short trousers for most of the day as a result. The examiners were dead-pan officious and that threw me from the very start. Then I began making more and more mistakes, the longer I warmed up. Then the keyboard stand was at the wrong height. Then my hands seized up and felt like they were playing through treacle. Then I botched my first arpeggio. Then…

But at least there were no frilly pigtailed four-year-olds present. I’d been warned that I might be surrounded by some rather young fellow examinees – Neil, my teacher, said I would probably raise the average age to about seven - but fortunately I was alone. Not a single Suzuki kid to be seen.

I walked out of the exam thinking I might have just squeezed a pass, so I’m very chuffed. I’ve seen the examiner’s notes. The best thing was that he did not mention my nodding head or make any reference to pigeons.

Ha! Try to laugh at me now, scornful four-year-olds! See you for the grade two exam in June! And just remember to call me Amadeus in future…