PG's Tips

You were born on Friday and we have to tell you this,
It really did make our day as we gave you a first kiss
To be your Pop and Nanna is amazing; we’re excited 
You rank in our affections now ahead of Man United!

You came into the world, announced your presence good and loud
Your mummy brought you safely and she’s made us very proud
Your eyes are bright and all the bits you should have are in place
With tiny hands and fingers and a handsome little face.

Last night in Sheffield we listened to a blues guitarist called Alex McKown. Alex has sung and played at major festivals in France and the UK to great acclaim and has been nominated for a British Blues Award 2011. This newcomer’s just cut his first CD and is one to watch for sure. Manfred Mann/Blues Band’s Paul Jones tips him for stardom.

Did I mention that this R&B star in the making is just 14 years old?

The main act of the night was the evergreen Frank White and his band. Great pie and peas, wonderful Thornbridge ales – Rock on!

I’m really embarrassed, I’ve got no excuse, see
Don’t know what to say about Lynnette and Lucy!
There are no excuses, no reason no rhyme
Just haven’t prepared you see; ran out of time.

Viv said no worries, you just wait and see
For a man of your talents, it’s pure ABC!
Don’t over-practise it, do not rehearse
Make it spontaneous, do it in verse. 

So I said to my wife, you should do as you preach?
“What me?” She said, “No!” she said, “Me make a speech?”
So I said, “I’m not well, I’ve come over all funny.”
“Humour! That’s good,” she said – “right on the money.”

So what’s this health problem? Can’t do A to Zee
It’s not rocket science, you don’t need a degree
Health problem, my eye – are you playing a trick?
“My health problem,” I said, “is I make people sick!”
 
ASIDE:
BUT – if you know my Viv you’ll know she’s a determined woman.
Script!

A
A is for add’ress – not one dress, but two,
I think they look gorgeous; I guess so, do you.
And with proper address must every speech start,
To pay due respect to all those who take part
 
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Chief Rabbi, friends”
This speech begins, and God knows where it ends
But that can’t be right – I remember that fits for
A speech that I made at Kaminsky’s bar mitzvah.

B
B is for booze, now don’t drink it fast
You might find it useful to make your drink last
Or else – when the bottom of your glass you reach
You won’t have a drop for the toasts in my speech.

C
C is for crowning and that’s a big thing
When your daughter’s a princess you feel like a king
For Viv, Jane and Steve the same thing can be said
So John’s got some crowns you can put on your head.
 
D
D is for daughters I know it’s absurd,
We used to have two and we now have a third
We love her the same, and we welcome Lynnette
And Jane, Mel, Steve, Carole and all you may bet.
 
D is for dads too, what roles we must play
I wonder if Steve can remember a day
When you had to give “That Talk” as Dad’s sometimes do
The birds and the bees – you explain it! No you!
 
When they’re tiny our kids ask, “From where did I come?”
And the answer you give is “Oh go ask your Mum”
But then you know for certain maturity’s showing
When they stop asking that, and won’t say where they’re going.

E
E is E-bay – Lynnette loves to bid
A TV she bought, someone tried to get rid
Of it, for the volume was stuck set on high
Lynnette said you can’t turn that down, nor can I.

F
F is for frugal, but they still have to eat
So they went into Tesco to purchase some meat
The butcher said just guess the weight of that, try
But Lucy declined for the steaks were too high.

G
G is for guidance, I wish I had read
The words on the pills I once took before bed
Swallow with water and do keep away
From children – I wish I’d been warned yesterday!
 
H
H is for water when seasoned with salt
And mixed up with tamarinds, cayenne and malt
Garlic and saccharine, colour to embellish
You guessed it I’m speaking of Henderson’s Relish.
 
Lancastrians won’t know what I’m saying of course
It’s Sheffield’s own answer to Worcestershire sauce
Lynnette’s quite a fan, she buys by the litre
For product endorsement there’s no-one to beat her.

I
I is for ice cream, you-know-who loves best
She went to the parlour and made a request
Her favourite flavour is phish food and so
She ordered her ice cream – was ready to go
When – “hundreds and thousands?” the guy asked Lynnette
And she answered, “just three scoops; I’ve not had lunch yet.”

J
J is for John, the Best Man, what a lad,
His Mum keeps an eye on him; so does his Dad
Mike we salute you; you’re one Master Baker.
John’s dad made that sensational wedding cake(r).

JK
JK is for Rowling, Lu’s dead keen on Harry
But linking two letters means now I must carry
On right through the alphabet missing out K
And you have to say “Kylie” at least twice a day.

L
L is for love, in this world it brings light,
Which is faster than sound and you know that is right
For people who see me think I might be smart
Then they pick up my voice and they swiftly depart.
 
M
M is for music, which Lucy likes too
Went browsing in Zavvi to find something new
Discovered Jim Morrison then wanted more
Loved the arrangements, impressed by the score
 
“All you have by the Doors” was our Lucy’s demand
The lad on the checkout did not understand,
And so Lucy went home but not quite as she’d planned
With extinguisher, wedge and two buckets of sand.

N
N is for names, and to me it’s a riddle
Why do some people have names in the middle?
Charlotte and Ann joined together today?
That doesn’t sound right but I wanted to say
You give kids middle names for a reason (it’s sad)
So they’re never in doubt when they’ve really been bad.
 
[Lucy, CHARLOTTE Green, if I have to tell you one more time....]

O
O is for Oscars, they love celluloid
And a little nostalgia I cannot avoid
So the year they were born what was winning awards?
I’ll see what romance the film title affords.
 
Ghandi! Best Film in the year’ 83
’85 Amadeus was top of the tree
‘84’s better, I’ll go in between
Then Terms of Endearment was hot on the screen.
 
P
P is for parents, especially Mum
She nurtures and cares for you, she is your chum
When only three portions she sees to feed four
She comments she doesn’t like pie any more.
 
So I’m asking you now to join me in a toast
To the people we know we would all miss the most
The Mums and the Grandmas and mothers to be
We wish them whatever their hearts want to see.
Mums!

Q
Q is for queen that means QE the 2
When our Lucy served her, she knew what to do.
Weeks of preparation and training came first
Etiquette, protocol, which fork goes first?
 
HM the Q takes her dog everywhere
Her favourite corgi sits under her chair
It eats foie gas and truffles – the Chef’s finest art
And then does a really bad odorous fart.
 
The Queen whispers softly in our Lucy’s ear,
“Some thing even Royals can’t control, I fear.”
“Just keep your gob shut,” said our Lu, “I won’t tell;
They’ll think it’s your dog who made that awful smell.”

R
R is recognition, be named in a song
For Lucy you don’t have to search very long
For example The Girl with Kaleidoscope eyes
If she’d come home like that I’d have not taken lies.
 
Now Lynnette’s in one song by Eric Johnson, I went mental
Listening for words – it’s all instrumental.
 
S
So S is for silence, we all spend 2 years
Teaching our kids to walk, talk and then cheers
We spend the next 16 years wearing a frown
Telling them just to shut up and sit down.

T
T is what it takes to tango we hear
These two live in Millhouses or very near
Of modern self-cleaning appliances they
Have two – Mike and Lola although those two may
Not always attend much to cleaning the floor
Cat’s always on the wrong side of the door

U
U is for uniform like when at school
I mention it now for it makes up a rule
A child grows so fast but the biggest growth spurt’s
When you’ve just bought them uniform – that really hurts!

V
V is for viniculture, fruit of the vine
Lucy is keen now to get to know wine
With her honours degree in contemp’ry fine art
A sommelier’s course is a good place to start.
But I must ask a question of Lucy – say what’ll
You do if you find that you’ve not got the bottle?

W
W is for wisdom, which comes to the sage,
Like fine wine we all seem to improve with age
I say as I’ve just reached my 60th year
So let me slip some wise words into your ear.

X
X is for extra time, at the end of a game
When the scores are all even and status the same
Lynnette and Lucy you’ve both made your catch,
We all wish for this to be one endless match.
 
Y
Y is for youth which we all once have tasted
And know that on young people frankly it’s wasted
This new generation so bright and creative
With smartphone computers – these digital natives

Z
So Z is for zoo and for zeitgeist as well
Playing Tap Zoo has just made my life hell
That game on my phone is like family life
Look after your partner; take care of your wife
 
Spirit of the Age is the zeitgeist you see
It is here in this moment for you and for me
With spirit in your glass I don’t care what’s your age
Let’s drink to the whole zoo, and that’s my last page.

If you’re not family, don’t read any further. This is too sentimental and saccharine for public consumption. Well all was revealed. I had a helicopter flight above The Theatre of Dreams and the United training ground too. Then it was a quiet lunch which turned into a surprise gathering of the entire clan. Bren, Chris and Richard would have made up the full set, but I know I’ll see you soon. Afterwards we went back to Barry’s for nibbles and birthday cake and candles. Thanks to my family. I love you all. The photos and video is with my legal department awaiting approval before I publish. This is a landmark year for our family and I am hoping everyone will find the happiness they deserve. Next on the agenda is Lucy and Lynette’s day.

Just (almost) the perfect day.

Thank God for the Internet. Quick – spread this message now. I might be in the care of my local authority tomorrow. You see yesterday THE GREAT DAY arrived, and I reached my 60th birthday. It was almost the perfect day. We “had a lie-in” until mid-morning. Opened the cards and presents. Pancakes for breakfast. No work! A little shopping, a bag of chips, and then “The King’s Speech” at Cineworld. Best of all I received my first ever senior citizen discount, but I do wish the pretty young girl at the kiosk had asked me for proof; I’d prefer not to think my face is my fortune. Then, two blips on the radar – Chesterfield dropped another two points at home and, worst of all, Wolverhampton Wanderers read the wrong script against my beloved Manchester United. But equilibrium was restored with an enjoyable meal around the Teppanyaki at Chesterfield’s only Japanese restaurant. And so to bed – but first another futile attempt to get at THE BIG SECRET. They’ve been plotting, planning and preparing for weeks. So what do I know for sure? Viv’s the master planner. Emi’s coming here at the crack of dawn. I have to drive them to Lu and Lynnette’s house and then, “all will be revealed?” But what? What will be revealed? They won’t tell me. It’s like a deep omerta – “if I told you I’d have to kill you”. But why? Surely now it’s Sunday they could tell me before taking me on my magical mystery tour. It won’t be to collect my bus pass; the new rules say I don’t qualify for that particular rite of passage until November. 

Come on Viv, spill the beans. How should I dress? Will I need my new camera? Is it a place I’ve been to before? Who else will be there? Is it indoors or outdoors? Will I qualify for (my second ever) concession? All is tight-lipped and inscrutable. But I think, with this impenetrable veil of secrecy, I might just have guessed at the truth; my wife, the kids, all wreathed in smiles and reassurances taking me on a trip they guarantee I will just love? Shaping a day that will be memorable for all? That’s it! I’ve got it. They’re checking me into a twilight home. A nice comfortable and safe environment for genteel retired folk. That’s what it must be. But am I ready for this? What can I say in mitigation?

I could quote Tennyson when his Ulysses is becoming aware of the diminishing of some of his powers in his “3rd Age”. “Although we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are.” 

I could echo Dylan Thomas’s words and “not go gently into that good night.” But despite my conniving, cajoling and protestations, The fact is I don’t yet know what today might bring, but just in case they have not handed me over to the care of others, it will be back to work on Monday. You see yesterday I managed to reach the OA, but someone missed the P off the end.  

Something’s in my rafters
I haven’t met it yet
It moves in each November
Avoiding cold and wet.

We hear it from our bedroom
Arriving early morn
Perhaps it is a little mouse
Just welcoming the dawn.

The Dales here have marsupials
Released into the wild
I learned this from my mother
When I was just a child.

So maybe it’s that animal
I thought I’d never see
The famous legendary
Derby-shire Wallaby.

That occupies my roofspace
And causes such a fuss
I’m glad it’s not a vampire bat
For that could finish us.
_______________________________

UNFORTUNATELY
Something is in my email system, too.
I know for sure it is a rat of the human kind.
So if you receive anything unsavoury from philgreen@mail.com, please be sure it has not come from me.

Mail.com say “Unfortunately this issue has been identified as a virus not yet detectable by many virus scanners and affecting many providers worldwide.”

I have every internet security imaginable set up here, and in the mail account I’ve changed password and taken all steps I know of to find a remedy. I may have to close the philgreen@mail.com account, but even then that might not solve the problem.

I hope it is not going to cause you inconvenience, too.

I’ve been keeping up with the e-mutterings following the Epic debate on Informal Learning, which sadly I missed. Every day learning in my experience is spontaneous, you might even say unavoidable. When I was an infant the world revealed itself to me (you will know that developmental psychologists call this Weltanschauung) because of a mix of incidental and mediated experiences. My parents and teachers arranged my world such that I could find my way in it – they provided toys, books, colourful wallpaper, music, nursery rhymes etc. We went for walks; they took me on buses and trains, we visited family and friends. I learned about negotiation from managing my siblings. I learned about commerce and budgeting from my biscuit money and by trading my bus fare for a bag of chips on the long walk from school. I acquired morality by practising the naughty as well as the good, and comparing the consequences of both. I read books, but the labels and hoardings and symbols in the city were equally important texts in teaching me what has value and what goes where. Now I am an adult learning remains spontaneous and unavoidable. Yesterday I learned something about the personality and vulnerability of a particular family member. Hearing of the saddest of bereavements reminded me of the sanctity of life and the importance of work-life balance. I learned that web-based promotions of hotel rooms are usually over-subscribed and the early bird catches the worm. I learned that tuna and broccoli are flavours that do not combine well. I learned that Mel won’t eat onions or garlic. And so it goes on. It’s nonsense to try to manage and constrain this stream of spontaneous learning. To do so interferes with natural perception. It applies blinkers. Once you begin to select particular sensory input for promotion, you stifle the others. Once you contrive matters, force a person to reflect, you diminish that spontaneity. I often quote a famous TES cartoon of the 1980s. A girl and a boy are seated side by side in a first floor classroom. She nudges him and warns, “Don’t look out of the window; teacher will make you write about it.”

I’m in bed. Confined to base. Fighting an infection caused by a rather large kidney stone that I’m waiting to pass. I came upon one of my own blogs at www.onlignment.com entitled Beware the Luddite within. Being hors de combat, unable to travel, I was struck by a sense of how important, even comforting, social media can be. So I thought I’d repost my little cautionary note here.

I think I may be a wikiphuddite! It’s a cross between a wikiphile (one who loves Wikis) and a Luddite, about which I’ll say a little more. But first thank goodness for Wikipedia. On more than one occasion it has led to the correcting of misinformation I was given at Grammar School. A history master 48 years ago taught me that the rebel who gave his name to the smashing of machines was Lobby Ludd (hence “Luddites”). Wikipedia says Lobby was a fictional character whose name was concocted from the London address of the long-defunct Westminster Gazette. The paper was situated at Lobby, Ludgate and the address was shortened for telegraphy to “lobbylud”. Wikipedia seems to me to carry more authority now.

Modern-day Luddites actually borrow the name from one Ned Ludd, who was believed to have destroyed two large stocking frames in the village of Anstey, in the East Midlands 1779. In England at the time you could be executed for breaking machines, and many ended their lives on the gallows at York. It is easy to understand why some did it under the anonymity of a cloak and a false name.

But why did the workers attack the machines? Wage cuts and the threat of losing their livelihood. What did they do? They broke into factories at night to smash hundreds of new power machines that they believed had deskilled them, and were enabling employers to use unskilled workers. All of this happened in the 18th and early 19th century. Then it was weavers who had served apprenticeships and manufactured stockings on handlooms. Now in the 21st Century it is knowledge workers, who served their apprenticeships on Pedagogy, Andragoy and Instructional Process only to find less skilled workers supplanting them on automated systems. So “plus ca change; plus c’est la meme chose.”

The wikiphile in me regains ascendance, and whispers with alarm in my ear, “But what if we lost all social media overnight?”

Well E.M. Forster raised that vision when he wrote “The Machine Stops”. If you’ve never read it then stop whatever you are doing (yes, even stop reading this blog and download it, you can always come back here later – there’s a free e-book – Google will point you in the right direction). Forster describes a nightmare world of the future in which humans have lost the ability to live independent lives. Each individual occupies a lonely ‘cell’ deep beneath the ground. Emotional, spiritual, intellectual and physical needs are served by “The Machine”. Most people are all too willing to surrender their autonomy. They deify The Machine and grant it awesome power, forgetting that Man created the Machine. The dreadful sanction for non-subservience is “Homelessness”. The title of Forster’s short novella hints at what happens at the end, when “The Machine Stops”.

I suppose in the case of “The Machine” no-one saw it coming. I don’t suppose many foresaw the arrival of Amazon or e-Bay either. Few could have predicted Facebook and even fewer might have guessed at how quickly Twitter would become ubiquitous in our daily communications. Now the Wikiphile is having his day, so let’s have a word from the Luddite.

Amazon and e-Bay are not going to go away, but where I live in Chesterfield the entire town has become overshadowed by two enormous retail developments. B&Q has an enormous distribution centre at Barlborough Links just outside the town, and a gigantic new store in the town itself. Tesco has built a massive concrete and steel superstore that occupies around 1.2 million square metres and dominates the skyline even to the extent that part of the A61 trunk road has acquired the name “The Tesco Roundabout”. So please don’t tell me we do everything online now.

But let me come to my final point. My very good friend Barry, a technophile told me last week that he was attending a “Tweet-up”. Now I’d heard of a booze-up and I was familiar with a nosh-up and a knees-up, but a tweet-up was an entirely new concept for me. And then, Oh Joy, I found out that it’s a good old-fashioned “meet-up” for Twitter enthusiasts! And you know, I couldn’t give a damn whether or not they buy it online or at Gregg’s; I thank God or The Machine or whatever power exists for the coming together of people and tea and cake. So don’t try to tell me that virtual social intercourse can satisfy all needs. The urge to meet and eat and shop and party and sing and dance and learn and even (book circles) to read together is far too strong a human urge.

I’m not “railing against the machine”, and I am strong advocate of the effective but moderated use of technology. I do still occasionally awake in a panic, wondering if we’re allowing technology to be the master rather than the servant of our humanity. Incidentally Forster wrote his story in 1909, and in case you think that’s a misprint I’ll spell it out – nineteen hundred and nine!

On Monday a calm, confident and competent professional took the first actions that I honestly believe may have saved my life, or at the very least my left kidney.

Later, at Chesterfield Royal Hospital I was cared for in a high-tech environment with world-class facilities and staff. I was treated in a comfortable, spacious private room en-suite in the new surgical unit, and there was neither need nor incentive for me to make use of private medical insurance.

However things might have ended quite differently. I became ill over the weekend and after an agonising night I called NHS Direct and was put in the care of the out of hours service. I was told to make my own way to The Old Scarsdale Hospital. My wife drove me there and I was interviewed by an earnest young woman whose badge identified her as “trainee specialist doctor”. 

I presented with a high temperature, blood red face and acute pain in the lower abdomen. This doctor did not take my temperature which later showed to be as high as 39 degrees. Nor did she take my pulse or blood pressure. She asked interminable questions about my medical history as I writhed in pain, then after some feeling of my abdomen and a digital rectal examination her initial advice was for me to go home and drink fluids, take laxatives and painkillers. She left the room for some time to consult with an invisible colleague and her final advice was for me to omit the laxatives and visit my GP on Monday morning. I staggered from her office bent double and in a state close to complete collapse. I do not believe she served me well, but I don’t blame her; it was a systemic failure.

When I presented at my GP’s surgery on Monday morning, with exactly the same symptoms, Dr Sudeep Chawla performed the necessary preliminary examinations with speed, skill and maturity. Suspecting a volvulus or obstruction of the bowel, he took immediate steps to admit me as an emergency to hospital.
 
Within a few hours I was Theatre-prepped and in the Emergency Management Unit. I spent 2 days on a drip, nil by mouth, being pumped with intravenous antiobiotics and morphine, and on oxygen.

Tests, scans and x-rays showed that I did not have a volvulus, which was good news since it has a very high morbidity rate. About 1 in 3 men of my age do not survive a twisted bowel unless treated very promptly I believe.

However I do have a kidney stone lodged in my urethra. The infection in my blood and urine has been largely killed off by the intensive treatment I’ve received at CRH.

I might have endured immediate invasive surgery, but the patience of the doctors at Chesterfield and the attentiveness of the nursing meant that I was spared (perhaps only temporarily). At least now I know what, why and how the pain happens and what to do if it intensifies. I have to remain at home for 2 weeks and continue a regime of antibiotics and analgesics, with lots and lots of fluids. I’ve no appetite for food and have lost my taste for tea and my big addiction – coffee! These can only be good things in the longer term since I have become rather too well-upholstered.

I have to wait and monitor my “outputs” to see if (Oh Please God) my body’s own mechanisms can break up this stone – it’s an impressive 5mm – so I can pass it naturally. If it does not then I know exactly what I’m facing, and I know I’ll be in the hands of very competent surgeons.

So what should I conclude. Well, if you’re chasing me for copy or work or other deadlines, please understand that I’m still rather fragile and taking only light duties. I won’t be travelling as I feel the need to stay close to the hospital in case I need attention. Also I’m still in pain but if you were to measure it on a scale of 1 to 10 I’d say it’s a 4 right now whereas it was an 11 on Sunday. I am planning to take a look at my email etc. some time this afternoon, and build a recovery plan.

I’ve got the best possible nurse in Viv, my wife. The kids have been, and I’m surrounded by messages and tokens of love and support. My Onlignment business partner, Clive has somehow conjured 36 hours out of his days to cover for my absence. I’m a very lucky man.

As for the Out of Hours Service, it appears to be the weak link in the system, staffed by bright-eyed but woefully inexperienced staff. I do not doubt the intentions of the woman who took my life in her hands on Sunday, but it would not have been a happy outcome for either of us if my epitaph read, “she was a nice, bright young woman who did all she knew”!