Thursday 18 December 2014

This and That: Rangers FC - How to kill a football club twice over

Glasgow Rangers, is that even their name anymore?, is a veritable mess of epic proportions. Ally McCoist’s recent resignation only adds to the general mad house vibe that the club is under at the moment. Decisions seem to be made on a whim, stadium naming rights are sold for £1, attendances are dropping and the general fan base seems at their wits end.

McCoist’s resignation is just another chapter in the seemingly never ending saga of this once successful clubs collapse. I know some snarky people will reply with “What success? This club has only been in existence for 2 seasons!”, but let’s be real about this. As fun as it is to use that stick to beat the slightly more unedifying part of the Rangers support with, this Newco is still very much the Rangers we all knew and loved/loathed (Pick where applicable)

Such an exaggerated collapse of a once powerful institution is something to behold and a dire warning to other clubs. What irks me about all this though is how Rangers just don’t seem to have learnt their lesson. I mean, I don’t think they’ve learnt a single solitary thing from the events that landed them where they are. This isn’t just random Old Firm Bashing either. When you compare a club like Rangers to a club in a similar position, such as Hearts, the differences are staggering.

Hearts found themselves in financial disarray and with a big point deduction to boot. Knowing they didn’t have money to spend, Hearts instead cultivated their younger players and essentially took the pressure off Gary Locke to do what he needed to do to right the ship, pretty much writing a season off. Hearts eventually finished bottom and were relegated, but had it not been for the points deduction they would have likely stayed up. Not only that, a lot of the young lads from last season are now helping Hearts to be top of The Scottish Championship.

In comparison, Rangers realised they didn’t have money to spend, but just went out and spent it anyway. McCoist was put under immediate pressure to get Ranger’s up the leagues, even to the detriment of the sides future development, and as such he didn’t want to risk it all on the youth team. As a result, he shored up the side with journeymen players on inflated wages and slowly started flushing away what was left of the clubs finances. This directly plunged Ranger’s deep into the darkness once more.

McCoist to this day is adamant that signing experienced pro’s was the way forward as opposed to taking his chances with the youth players. This raises questions about both McCoist himself, the Club and also the youth facilities at Rangers disposal.

In regards to McCoist, it questions his attitude to the development of players and also his management style. McCoist's actions during his time as manager have suggested that he lives very much in the short term. His desire for instant gratification seems to mirror that of the board and the Rangers support. This doesn’t mean that he won’t be capable of any success as a manager in the future, but it does suggest that he will be a manager who doesn’t stay at a club for long. It suggests he’ll be someone who will drop in for a couple of years, possibly win something and then move on for the next challenge. If there was any club where you’d expect him to play the long game, it would be Rangers, but that’s not at all what has happened here.

Of Course, an argument could be made that McCoist had little choice in this instance. Rather than rebuilding the club gradually, perhaps at the expense of immediate promotion in the very first season, it was clear that Rangers felt they had to come straight back up as quickly as possible, and placed pressure on McCoist accordingly. Now, I understand that Rangers is a big club and the idea to supporters and board that they’d spend even one season longer in a lower division than they had to was an intolerable one at best, but surely it made sense for the club to take their time and not rush things?

And what does it say about the standard of Rangers youth academy? This was a situation where it would have been both cost effective and also an opportunity for some positive PR to give some of the younger players a chance. However, the manager was so terrified that they’d fail that he decided to pass on them and sign veterans and journeymen instead, journeymen that likely wouldn’t be up to much if Rangers were to make it back to the top division.

This then raises the question, is the youth academy really this bad or did McCoist simply not have the moral fortitude to give them a chance? Now look, I know that’s easy for me to say and to point out that I'm just musing in a column while McCoist was in a high pressure situation and yada yada yada, but let’s remember who this is. Ally McCoist is a club legend and, as a result, you would think he’d have the clubs best interests at heart right? How on Earth then does spending them into a gaping abyss, while taking a pretty sweet wage himself I might add, help the club? Surely it would be better for the club if he’d gone to board and said “Look, I want to play the kids. Give me at least a years wiggle room”, rather than just throwing money that they didn't have at a problem that didn't require it?

If the board then said no and he decided not to take the job, could anyone really blame him? What was McCoist’s end game? Was he thinking “I’ll just spend the money we don’t have because eventually these people will be bought out”? How is that even close to a viable plan when managing a football club, especially one that you're puported to love?

In the interest of balance though, maybe McCoist did have a point that the lads in the youth squad just weren’t good enough? If that were the case, how could Rangers have allowed such a situation to befall them? I can only imagine the amount of young footballers who would jump at the chance to sign a contract with Rangers, regardless of where they were in the league system. Rangers are a hugely popular club. Is it really feasible that Rangers couldn’t cultivate enough talented youngsters for McCoist to use in his team? Their youth facilities in general seem to be to a decent standard. I just find it hard to believe. If Hearts could do it, in a more difficult league in fact, why couldn’t Rangers?

Was anyone even remotely concerned with the long term ramifications of what the club was doing in those two seasons in League Two and One? Wouldn’t there be merit to the club gradually building itself back up rather than spending themselves back into a hole in a desperate bid to climb the divisions as quickly as possible?

The board failed to be honest with the fan base. I know that it sucks to be the bearer of bad news. I work in complaints and that role naturally entails me to sometimes be the first person to actually tell a customer the truth. There is nothing more galling than speaking to a customer who has been told exactly what they wanted to hear on more than one occasion only to kick off when you actually explain what the situation truly is.
If the board had just come clean with the fans and told them that they had to cut their cloth accordingly and manage expectations, maybe there would have been less pressure on McCoist and the coaching staff to get Rangers up the leagues? Maybe McCoist would have felt more confident giving the lads from the youth squad a chance in that scenario? Maybe Rangers could have spent a season in League Two building up the lads and getting them experience?

Not all of them would have come through obviously, but enough of them could have potentially developed into decent players so that Rangers would have been one step closer to self-efficiency. The board could have then hoarded the money for 2-3 seasons with the real promise that they would spend it when the club reached the Championship, where the expected gulf between the top divisions and the lower half would have required such action.

There was always a risk that the kids wouldn’t be up to it, but then that’s one of the pitfalls of going into administration. Rangers, despite what some may think, do not have a divine right to compete in Scotland’s top division. Part of going into administration is because you have been financially imprudent. To be put into administration, dropped down three leagues and then continue to be financially imprudent is just plain insanity. After all, the definition of insanity is to the do the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result.

Some clubs, such as Chelsea and Man United, can afford to live in the short term. Their futures are almost assuredly financially secure, so they can take gambles on big money for players and if it doesn’t work out, they can just buy another. Rangers could not afford to live in the short term. They had the chance to create a long term plan that would enable them to climb the leagues while ensuring that they were also financially stable.

They should have been patient with expectations

They should have been honest with the support and managed their expectations

They should have been firmer with McCoist in regards to finance but also placed less pressure on him in relation to timescales

They should have promoted and played their best youth prospects before they got into the veritable dogfight that is The Championship

Rangers FC was a giant mess two years ago, and it’s just the same today. The club had its chance to learn from its mistakes and come back stronger but it didn’t take that chance. Rangers remain a cautionary tale to all clubs to not spend what they don’t have and to also look more to the long term rather than focus on short term gains.

Peace Out

Wednesday 26 November 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 10

After finally finishing the washing up, we began plans to undo all our good work, as Adam declared he was going to make pizzas for lunch. He got to making the pizza dough, while I attended to trying to start a fire. Alas, the Scotsman finally met it’s Waterloo, as we needed fuel.


Pete stuck a quite ludicrously large log in the fireplace and we surrounded it with as much newspaper and smaller chunks of wood as we could, in an effort to get it burning. Thankfully, the additional accoutrements got the fire to start crackling away.

Adam finished his pizza dough and announced that it would need a while to rise before it could be cooked. The cottage was about halfway down a winding road into the wilderness. It was an area we had yet to explore, so it was decided that we’d go for a walk while the pizza dough settled.

We left the cottage and Pete stashed the spare key under the plant pot in readiness for the water man’s arrival. We set off downhill along the road and into a sort of quarry. Thankfully, there wasn’t much traffic to contend with. We passed some lumberjacks who were chopping down some of the trees. They weren’t your usual lumberjack types, eschewing plaid shirts and Yukon Caps for high vis jackets and hard hats. I wondered the reasons why they were chopping the trees down. Development? Furniture? Firewood?

We continued onward, over a small stream and into a sort of ravine past the quarry. There were hillsides and mountainous terrain in the nearby distance which we decided to head for. Luc and Pete set off ahead of us around about this time. I was struggling to keep pace in all honesty. I was still tired from the other day and was finding it hard to keep pace. I think partly it was a mental thing. My new walking boots, relatively comfortable the other day under two pairs of socks, were starting to rub against my heels and ankles. My jeans felt heavy and tight the more I walked.

Adam had decided to hang back with me, rather than leave me struggling at the rear again. I was frustrated, but I’ve never really been a fast walker. I love going for a nice walk, but I just can’t do it at pace. We passed another bridge and started making our way up the hillside. The slope had been turned into a makeshift road for heavy vehicles. Stones had be laid out in order to give the lorries and vans purchase when trying to get up the hill. Adam removed one of these stones and chortled to himself. I chastised Adam for this, perhaps through some cosmic idea of solidarity with the truck drivers. Until you’ve driven up a mountain, you just wouldn’t understand.

As we continued up the hill, I really started to tire. My feet were hurting, I was sweating profusely and my jeans were starting to chafe. Both the jeans and walking boots were all new, thus is the hazard of going for a walk in clothing you haven’t properly worn in, and they were conspiring to make the climb arduous. Finally, I decided that I’d taken all I couldst and I couldst takes no mores, and took a seat by the side of the road while Luc and Pete continued onward. Adam hung back with me and we waited for Pete and Luc to reach the top of the road and return.

I felt bad about not making it all the way up the hill, but I remembered the events of the previous day in an effort to console myself. Had I worn more appropriate clothing and not done all the rowing and climbing the previous day, I would have likely had a better stab at it. That being said, we’d walked for something like half an hour and it would be another half an hour back, so I’d at least had some exercise and got a chance to have a look at more scenery, so the walk wasn’t a total bust.

We made our way back to the cottage and I suffered an injury. It had nothing to do with the walking though. I was doing my Woody Allen impression and shrugged my shoulder so much that I felt a jolt in my neck. I nursed by aching injury for the remainder of the walk back. It just goes to show that you should always stretch thoroughly before doing an impression of a well-known Jewish comic actor/director. I’d make a note of it reader, this sort of information could save your life!

Pete and Luc started edging ahead again, but at a turn in the road, they suddenly stopped. I could see them in the not too far distance and thought a car or some such must be coming round the corner. I was in for a surprise. There was something coming around the corner alright, but it wasn’t a car. It was a flock of nearly 30 sheep careening around the bend, being chased by an eager sheep-dog and a shepherd bringing up the rear in a small tractor. Adam and I leapt to the left to dodge the sheep, but they dodged us at the same time and actually started clambering up the verge of the road.

The sheepdog desperately chased the sheep and managed to guide them all back onto the road and to safety. The farmer drove slowly past and thanked us for getting out of the way so promptly. Adam recorded the whole thing on his phone and was quite amused by it all. It was certainly something you didn’t see every day living in Stockport, although I have spent one or two occasions waiting patiently for a farmer to guide his cows across the road back when I used to work in Leek.

We got back to the cottage where Adam, satisfied with the dough, began to prepare the pizzas. I can’t quite remember if I assisted with this or did something else. That’s the price you pay for not keeping copious notes I suppose. The pizzas were eventually finished and they were delicious. Adam had made them more rectangular than circular and Luc whipped up a salad to go with them.

As we ate, the water man, whose name sadly escapes me, ventured in to tell us that he’d fixed the water issue as best he could and that there should hopefully be some hot water now. He told us to notify the cottage owner should the problem persist. He was going to have to do something about it anyway, and went off to call in for more hardware. We thanked him and finished up lunch.

After lunch, we had a look at the remaining supplies that we had and it didn’t make for pleasant viewing. We had run out of pretty much all the essentials and it looked like we were going to have to venture to the shops once again. Considering the nearest shop was, at least, a 40 minute drive, this was slightly more of an issue than it would normally be. This was when we remembered the small shop by the Road Closed sign. That wasn’t in Inverness itself, so wouldn’t take as far to get to.

Pete had had his fill of long drives at this point, and was itching to have another ride in the boat. It was decided that myself and Adam would drive to the shop and pick up some supplies, while Luc and Pete would set sail once again.

Plans were made, an address was acquired and we readied for our journey. We were in hope that it would take 15-20 minutes to get where we needed to go. We were about to be surprised…

Monday 17 November 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 9

I awoke on Day 4 feeling more exhausted than I had in a while. The previous days exertions had taken their toll and there was a mild sense of melancholy as I realised we had now passed the half-way point of the holiday. The end of our trip away was looming on the horizon, and I wasn’t relishing my return to full-fledged civilisation.


The silence of the Highland Mountains and the wild terrain were so far apart from the bustling streets and busy roads back home. Getting away had been the best thing I could have done, as it gave me a chance to truly be at peace, if only for a few minutes on the side of a mountain. The minutes were now ticking away to the point of which we’d have to pile back into my car for another long journey back home. I was hoping those minutes would tick slowly.

Adam was, as per usual, still fast asleep as I rummaged for my glasses and ventured downstairs. To my surprise, I was actually the first one up. I quickly visited the bathroom, copy of the Scotsman from the first day under my arm. I had been reading a page a time during my free moments over the course of the week. I’d been up to so much, that I was still in the middle of the sports pages. Scotland were preparing for some important qualification games in the European Championships with Georgia and Poland.

I perused the pages while seeing to something else and then decided to try the shower to see if the hot waters failure to work the other day had merely been a blip. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. The water was ice cold and wasn’t getting any warmer. I instead had a brief wash in the sink, the old whores bath, and went off to get some breakfast. By this time Luc and Adam were stirring and Pete was fully awoken.

After breakfast, Luc and Myself set to boiling the kettle and cleaning the pots and pans (The dishwasher was no longer working due to the water issue) while Pete nipped outside, for what we thought was a search for firewood. I’d been outside the previous night in search of an axe to chop some of the humongous blocks that were now at the bottom of the wood basket.

The cottage was fitted with a delightful fireplace and we’d been greeted with a full basket of wood when we’d arrived on the first day. The wood had been finely chopped so that it would fit in the fire but also burn efficiently. As the week had worn on, the wood had gotten progressively bigger in size and, as a result, much more difficult to fit in the fire. There was more wood available for us to use, but this was also bigger than we needed it to be.

On Wednesday night, I had ventured into the garden in search of an axe to chop the wood into easier to manage chunks. The cold wind, pitch blackness and deathly silence had made the whole experience an unnerving one. It had felt like a scene from a horror movie or a particularly scary level in a game video game such as “Silent Hill”. I kept expecting a terrifying villain to leap from the shadows and throttle me. Thankfully, a mad marauding Scotsman didn’t see fit to pummel me half to death and then throw my quivering body into the surrounding Loch. Unthankfully, I was unsuccessful in my quest to find an axe. To be honest, with four Englishmen living at the cottage, the owner had probably felt it prudent to remove as many sharp objects as possible to avoid any injuries.

Pete had put on his boots and headed out to the garden after breakfast, and I assumed it was to pick up where I had left off. Knowing Pete as I do, I was fully expecting him to triumphantly march into the cottage a few minutes later holding an axe in one arm and a felled tree under the other. However, as Luc, Adam and Myself attended to the dishes, Pete started to become conspicuous by his absence. I had a look at the garden, and couldn’t see him. I glanced further down towards the dock and then I realised something rather unnerving. The boat was missing.

A list of possibilities suddenly went through my mind, and I didn’t like any of them. Had I failed to tie the boat up properly the day before, leaving it to float aimlessly into the Loch? Had Pete taken another boat into the Loch himself in effort to retrieve it? Had the boat been stolen? Had Pete caught the dastardly boat thief in the act and paid the price? Had he been kidnapped in order to be held for ransom? Would I end up having to drive up to Dingwall with £1000, made up solely of Scottish 20’s, in an unmarked bag to negotiate his safe release?

These of course, are the thoughts of a mad man. Hello, nice to meet you, has anyone seen my camel?

I frantically stuck my head out of the door to inspect the situation and my eyes quickly scanned right down towards the Loch. In instinctively thought that this would lead me to Pete’s location and I was absolutely correct. Pete was sitting in the boat in the middle of the Loch, sitting being the operative word. He wasn’t rowing, he was just sitting there as the natural current of the Loch moved the boat across the water. It was like he was in some kind of meditation.

Maybe he’d enjoyed the tranquillity so much from yesterday that he felt he had to get more of it? Or maybe he was looking for more bottles that had been thrown into the Loch? I decided not to call out to him and rather just let him enjoy the silence (great song by the way) while keeping a close eye on him from the kitchen window as we continued to wash and dry the dishes.

Luc and Pete had chastised me earlier for washing a plate with cold water. Pete had even gone so far as to say it didn’t count as washing it. This has surprised me because I had used the washing up liquid and the plate looked pretty clean to me. Maybe the lack of heat meant the germs weren’t fully defeated? As a result, we had to wait while Luc would continuously boil the water in the kettle. It made the washing up an arduous process and rather time consuming.

Pete finally returned from his solo voyage, seemingly energised by the experience. It turned out that he had been looking for some more bottles, but hadn’t had much joy. He announced to the room that he wanted to go for another boat ride. I’ll be perfectly honest and say that this idea didn’t enthuse me as much as it did Pete. For one, the pleasant weather of yesterday had been replaced with a greying cloud that looked certain to burst into rain at any moment. In addition, I was absolutely knackered from yesterday and the thought of going through it all again didn’t fill me with a longing for getting back in the boat.

They say you should try everything once, something I vehemently disagree with. For example, I wouldn’t suggest trying suicide once, because chances are you wouldn’t get another go at it. Same for fighting a Lion to the death with your bare hands while wearing a suit made out of steak. You might make it out alive, but the odds are somewhat stacked in the Lions favour. As for the boating on the Loch, I’d tried it once and I had decided that I wouldn’t want to try it again until I’d had a good few days rest and had bought some more appropriate boating attire.

We got a quick update on regards to the water. A man was on his way to take a look at it and we were to leave a key for him under a plant pot should he arrive while we were out. Morning was coming to it’s end, but there was still more to happen on our penultimate day, of which I will detail in the next chapter.

Thursday 30 October 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 8

Our dip in the Loch now completed, we discussed on what to do next. The day was still relatively young. We could look at heading back to the cottage, having some lunch and maybe doing a walk. Pete suggested that we keep going to the very other side of the Loch. Looking at in the vague distance, it didn’t seem like it would take too long to get there, so we agreed. We were soon to be proven wrong.


Here’s the thing about rowing, it’s not very easy. My only prior rowing experience had been on the rowing machine at the gym. There was that time I worked on a Persian Galley during a naval battle, but that was during a drug induced coma and sadly I hadn’t managed to retain my form. We had decided that we’d all take it in turns rowing. I dutifully stepped up for my turn and proceeded to do a quite abysmal job of it all.

I must have been overcompensating with one of the oars, as whenever I stuck the oars in to the waiting Loch, the boat essentially went around in a circle. I eventually managed to get some basic rhythm going and we crawled along for a bit until it was Adam’s turn to take over. His turn ended pretty much how mine did, as did Luc’s later on. Pete rolled his eyes in derision at our derisory attempts.

Eventually, we made it to the other side of the Loch. There wasn’t a dock as such but there was a metal pole, that I managed to tie the boat to. Satisfied that the boat wasn’t going to float off, myself and Adam had a look around. In front of us was a large forest, with no clear path as to how to get through it. There was a slope that required climbing to get into the forest proper. After the forest, who knew what awaited us.

Pete and Luc had already set off into the wilderness while Adam and Myself had made sure that the boat was secure before scrambling up the hill to join them. The forest wasn’t overly dense but the ground was littered with rocks and fallen trees. Pete and Luc had seemingly taken a smoother route through the forest to the other side. We could hear them in the not too far distance. The route to where they seemed to be was obstructed by a number of felled tree trunks. Adam recalled that we had been told of a huge storm the day before our arrival, which could have accounted for this veritable tree graveyard. I anticipated that he was correct.

The fallen trees were not only getting more frequent but they were also getting higher up. This was resulting in me having to stand on them to get over to the other side. The problem was, not all of them were secure and they were liable to snap at any time, sending me tumbling pathetically to the forest floor with no warning. I developed a system of tentatively testing the trunk with one of my feet. When content that the tree would hold, I would then step my other foot onto it and get over as quickly as I could.

One trunk was considerably less sturdy than I had anticipated and as I stood on top if began to drop to the ground. I had a sharp jab of fright as I waited to see what would happen. Thankfully, the trunk didn’t snap. It just lowered down slightly and I was able to retain my balance and make my way to the other side.

After traipsing over the numerous collapsed tree remains, we finally came across Luc and Pete waiting by a large wooden gate at the end of the forest. We stepped through the gate into a deserted filed/bog surrounded by mountainous terrain. Pete had a look around and started making his way determinedly towards the mountain. We all knew what this meant. We were going to climb it.

I took a look at the ground before me. It was boggy in the extreme, so I carefully watched my step as I made my way to the mountainside. Pete was already there and was beginning his ascent. Climbing was not easy as there wasn’t much to grip on to. Pete was up front, with Luc and Adam behind him and myself taking up the rear (Ooo Err!)

I was struggling with the ascent to be honest. It wasn’t so much the climb but the pace that was doing me in. Had I been left to do it my own speed I perhaps wouldn’t have been as tired, but I didn’t want to hold the other lads up too much so powered onward. We stopped briefly and had a look at the surrounding wilderness. We sat in silence, absolute genuine silence, the sort of silence you never hear during an urban existence. We’d come to Inverness to get away from it all, and at that exact moment, we really, really had.

With the silence ringing in our ears, we started up again and continued to a higher part of the mountain. Here we found the spring for a small stream that was flowing at the bottom of the mountain. I was tempted to have a sip but decided against it. We climbed a bit higher to a jagged outstretched part of the mountain and looked down on the field below. It was empty and desolate, the odd trickle of wind caused the thistles to gently tremble. In the horizon, further mountains lumbered over the surrounding countryside.

Pete and Luc let out a roar that reverberated in the air. I had never heard such a profound echo in my life. Not to be outdone, I yelled “MORTAL KOMBAT!” and grinned widely as it echoed back at me like the old advert from the 90’s.

It was way past afternoon at this point and evening was beginning to approach, so we clambered back down the mountain to get back to the boat. Upon returning to the field, I promptly stepped in the bog and the cold muddy water went all the way up to my ankle. I bemoaned the situation and then squelched my way over the trees in the forest and back to the boat.

We all piled into the boat to make the long row back to the cottage but before we set off, Pete demanded we stop. We wondered why, was something wrong? Was there a hole in the boat that Pete had just noticed? Pete took the oar and dipped it in the water. He then reached over and stuck his hand in the Loch as the boat tilted towards the water. After a few months of stabbing at the water below, Pete popped his head back up triumphantly, holding a half broken bottle.

We inspected the bottle and realised that this was really quite old. It was for ginger beer and was a sandy coloured opaque bottle with black writing on the side. Who knows when this would have been chucked into the Loch? Pete inspected the surrounding water and found two more. Pete grabbed these and plopped them in the boat for further inspection when we reached the cottage.

The boat journey back felt a lot longer than the initial one out, due to the fact there were no stop offs this time. The sun was beating down on the boat and I began to sweat profusely on account of wearing my buoyancy aid as well as a shirt and a jumper. Being that the weather in The Highlands had been known to turn at a moment’s notice, I had dressed accordingly. However, the sun continued unabated as we neared the shore. We negotiated the high reeds near the makeshift jetty and then tied the boat up on the cottages private dock.

Upon returning to the cottage, we found that the hot water wasn’t working, so none of us could indulge in a warm shower. We called the cottage owner who said someone would be coming to have a look at the water tomorrow. Pete and Luc went to their rooms to have a lie down. Myself and Adam entertained ourselves by watching an old episode of WCW Nitro on my laptop.

We were all pretty exhausted by the events of the afternoon, so we spent the evening and night in the cottage. Luc prepared some vegetable kebabs and we ate them with gusto. We attempted to play poker, but by this point I was wiped out and deliberately lost all my chips before collapsing on the sofa while the others played at the table. Not soon after, I retired to bed to read while the others had a chat in the living room for a while before also going to bed.

I slept that night, let me tell you. More to come in the next chapter as we hit day 4!

Wednesday 22 October 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 7

Our third day in Inverness began the same way the other days had begun, with me dragging myself out of bed around 9ish while Adam lay prostrate in the other bed. I think I may have been the first up this morning, so I ventured down to the bathroom for a shower. However, I reached a stumbling block in my plan when realising there was no hot water.


Pete and Luc also noticed this and promptly put a call through to the cottage owner, who said he would send someone down to have a look at it. We didn’t spend too much time on it though, as we had a boat to row! The childlike excitement of Pete at the prospect was infectious. What’s more, the weather had decided to be kind and we were met with opulent sunshine as opposed to the dismal downpour of the previous day. After a modest breakfast, we were ready!

As mentioned in a previous chapter, on day two we had visited a Charity Shop in Inverness and had purchased some cheap togs that we didn’t mind getting dirty. Adam had purchased an outrageous pair of white trousers which made the situation look more like Tony Montana was going out yachting as opposed to us hapless four having a row in a small boat.

I had purchased a pair of trousers and a turquoise plain t-shirt from the same shop. I had tried the trousers on back at the cottage to find that they were smaller than the label in the shop had suggested. It just goes to show that even in Charity Shop’s you should try clothes on I guess. The t-shirt thankfully fit just fine and I still have it to this day. I put the trousers in a drawer in my room and promptly forgot about them. They could still be there for all I know.

So it was to the dock I went wearing my jeans. Thankfully, I’d brought two pairs of trousers, something that I would be very grateful for at the end of the days boating. We all piled into the boat and set off to a nearby island that was roughly parallel to the cottage. We set anchor, or in this case just tied the boat to a tree, and disembarked to inspect the terrain. That took all of 30 seconds as the island was rather quite small. It seemed the only creatures that inhabited it were little frogs that jumped around to avoid us.

There was a blackened circle in the moss, which suggested someone had been on the island and lit a fire before. We jumped back into our boat and continued our voyage to shallow bay. It was here that Pete decided he was going to take a dip in the Loch. Originally, he’d planned to skinny dip but now he decided it would be better to have a paddle instead. I originally had been against the idea, but I was warm from sun and decided it might be a good idea.

Pete had stripped down to his boxer shorts but I decided to just roll my jeans up instead and wade in that way. This was a mistake as the jeans soon unravelled pathetically into the water with a miserable plop, leaving me with wet jean bottoms for the rest of the day.

The water, despite soaking up the sun, was incredibly cold. At first I didn’t really feel it and was more worried about the jagged stones on the shore that felt like they were cutting the soles of my feet to shreds. Once past them though, I felt it. The cold was as intense as any I’d ever experienced. It was so cold, it was almost as if it burned. My skin was screaming and I let out a pained yelp.

Adam, who was filming it all for posterity, found my pain to be hilarious. He had elected not to take the dip himself. Luc waded into the Loch and entered an even wussier display than myself. He pretty much dipped his toes in and decided it was enough. I at least went in until the water had gone past my ankles. Pete ventured further than any of us, and look contented to go even further. I doubt he would have been as happy to dive into the Loch starkers, as had been his original plan. A paddle was a decent compromise I feel and reminded me of when we used to go to the seaside with my granddad and he’d get his feet wet in the ocean before returning back to the beach. He was a dour Catholic Irishman, but it was one of the rare times he’d indulge himself, a smile never leaving his face while doing so.

We all posed for a picture in the boat and hit the water again. Our journey was far from over and I’ll cover that when in the next chapter

(Probably won’t be another one now until Saturday as I’m going to Lille to watch Everton)

Tuesday 21 October 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 6

After admiring Stan Fraser’s incredible marine fanboyism, we decided it was time to get some lunch. We’d pulled up in a nearby retail park so that we could walk to Stan’s house/museum. We sat in the car and wondered where to go and eat.


The previous day on the journey up, we’d stopped briefly to use the toilets at a service station/café about half an hour or so outside of Inverness. In there I’d picked up a collection of leaflets, one which was “Places to eat out in Inverness”. With no better idea on where to go, I decided to whip the leaflet out and have a look.

It had been a particularly wet day and despite the fact that I’d kept the leaflet in the pocket of my waterproof coat, water had conspired to get in there and the leaflet was now sodden with rain water. Thankfully, it was still readable, and I perused the options. We eventually settled on a place called the Riverside Restaurant.

The restaurant was situated, aptly enough, by the side of the river on Banks Street. We decided to take the Michael once more and park in the Tesco again due it being both free and also a mere 5 minute walk from the restaurant.

When we entered the restaurant the only occupants were two other gentlemen who were finishing their meals. We were shown to a table by a polite waitress and were presented with the lunch menu. The restaurant interior was lovely and there was a view out towards the river which would have likely been more enchanting on a nicer day.

I ordered curried carrot soup to start and an omelette for the main. Both were delicious and well worth the mere £11 or so we had to pay when the bill was split between us. I’d certainly recommend it if you happen to be in Inverness and are looking for a good lunch option. http://www.riversiderestaurant.info/

After eating Lunch, it was time for me to do something wilfully self-indulgent before we got the shopping in. For as long as I can remember, I have been a big football fan. I just love it. I love the spectacle, the skill of the players, the passion of the crowd and the tactical nous of the managers and coaches. I am a devoted Everton supporter but I also follow the Scottish League with quite a fair bit of interest.

We didn’t get Sky Sports in my house until late 2003, so I never really got a chance to watch Scottish Football unless one of the teams were playing in Europe and the game was on ITV or BBC. My only real exposure to the Scottish game was either by the odd bulletin in the sports section of the news or by watching the classified football results on Grand Stand. This combined to give the league an exotic and mystical quality that the English League didn’t have. It seemed far away and exciting.

I recall vividly watching a news report covering Celtic’s incredible Title Victory on the last day of the 97/98 Season. The victory would have been emotional in any circumstance but this had some added spice to it all, as Celtic’s victory had thwarted the attempt of their biggest rivals Rangers from winning ten consecutive League Titles in a row. Winning “Ten in a row” has become an obsession for both sides of the Glasgow divide, so the win brought with it real significance.

However, while Rangers and Celtic fought for the top prize in the Scottish League, there was another team in the lower leagues who caught my eye. They were Inverness Caledonian Thistle. First off, what a name for a football club! Once you hear that name, you seldom forget it. It’s patriotic yet also quite wistful and humorous. I can’t hear that name without thinking of rolling hills and waist high thistles. If ever a football teams name was anything close to poetic, it would be Caley Thistle.

Ever since seeing that name on the classified results in my younger days, I decided that if I ever happened to be in The Highlands and it was feasible to do so, I would visit Caley Thistles ground. Considering pretty much all our business was concluded, and the stadium was all of 15 minutes away, I decided that it was going to be a case of “now or never”. Adam, Luc and Pete are not into football whatsoever, but I managed to convince them that this would be a quick thing and that it wasn’t too out of the way. They relented, and we were off.

Caley Thistle’s ground has a reputation for being one of the coldest in Britain. This is due to two key factors. Firstly, it’s in The Highlands which isn’t renowned for the most clement of weather. Secondly, the stadium is literally right next to the sea. Seriously, it would take about 2 minutes to walk from the reception to the water. This results in the elements battering the stadium in all their glory.

Caley Thistle have climbed through the ranks of Scottish Football and now play in the top division. It’s a remarkable story. Despite that, the club had more of the feel of a small local team as opposed to a team in the big leagues. Despite the lofty heights the club has reached, it still rarely sells out its stadium. Even the recent “Highland Derby” between Thistle and local rivals Ross County (Situated in Dingwall about 20 miles away) was only attended by roughly three thousand people.

Pete and Luc decided that they’d stay in the car while I got out and had a look at the stadium. I dragged Adam along as my cameraman and had my picture taken outside the entrance. I later tweeted the picture to the clubs official Twitter page and they were kind enough to re-tweet it. The club shop was a small additional part to the front of the stadium. This was miles away from the big club shops you’d find at Old Trafford and The Emirates. To my dismay, the shop was closed but there was a sign advising that I could ask one of the staff at reception to open it up for me.

I walked into the homely reception to find no one at the desk and three people in a room to the left. A young woman entered and asked if she could help. I asked if she could open the shop and she cheerfully said she would. She seemed relatively unfazed that two random Englishmen had showed up to buy some Thistle merchandise. Maybe it’s a regular occurrence?

I perused the boxes in the shop to see what was on offer. My souvenir of choice when visiting somewhere is usually a tea mug. I still have a Hertha Berlin mug from when I visited the Olympic Stadium in Berlin. I’m a bit of a stadium-phile in all honesty. Is that even a word? Oh well, it sums up my feelings towards them anyway. I would have liked to have done a lap of the ground but we’d already taken longer than I’d intended.

I asked the woman if they had any mugs and she replied apologetically that they did not. I decided to buy an Inverness scarf instead. It was a mixture of blue and red and had the club crest on it. It reminded me a lot of the colours of Crystal Palace actually. Satisfied with my purchase, I bade the woman adjure and headed back to the car with Adam. I thanked the lads and explained, albeit briefer that what you’ve just read, the reasons for visiting.

Before setting off that morning, we had agreed that we would each cook something during the week. This would avoid long drives in the dark in pursuit of an evening meal. We were to pick up the relevant ingredients for our meals, as well as alcohol and other niceties. Pete had a special dish planned for that evening involving Scottish produce.

We found another Tesco, making it at least three for Inverness (They’re taking over!!!) and ventured inside to pick up the shopping. Luc has quite a strict diet and only eats Organic foods, so he dashed to the fruit and vegetable aisle to pick up what he required. I tried not to overdo it with things and left all the extra stuff to the other lads. I knew we’d have more than enough of what we needed.

Myself and Adam headed to beer and spirits area of the shop to find some ale and take a look at the whiskeys. We eventually settled on a strange looking ale called “Tartan Special”, which came complete with a jolly looking bagpipe player on the front of the can. We also picked up a 10 year Dura whiskey as well. I left the whiskey buying to the other lads as it’s not really my area of expertise.

With the car loaded up, we set off again in direction of the cottage. The GPS found yet another route for us to take and we ended up massively lost. I got the impression that this journey would be much simpler if it wasn’t for all the diversions due to road closures. We eventually chanced our way onto the same route we came in on and made our way back to the cottage. Pete made it very clear that he’d had his fill of driving into the City and wanted to stay around the cottage for the rest of the holiday. This seemed reasonable enough as there wasn’t anything else we desperately had to do in the City.

Pete was up for going in the boat but the weather was still quite soft and the light was starting to disappear. As much as I wanted to row the boat, and I really did, I didn’t fancy rowing in a Loch in the dark in the middle of nowhere. It just screamed “watery grave” to me. Pete was determined but we managed to talk him down to a row the next day. It would turn out to be a good decision.

Pete and Luc prepared the dinner, chicken breast stuffed with haggis and wrapped in ham. While they cooked the food, myself and Adam found a chess set and had a game. After a long tactical battle, I somehow managed to step forth victorious, despite being woeful at the game in general.

We broke out another game, I can’t remember which one and then watched Withnail and I. it was an enjoyable way to end the day.

We headed to bed, knowing that the next day we were going on a boat. That and more, in chapter 7

Monday 20 October 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 5

While at dinner the previous night, we’d discussed what we were to do on the second day of our holiday. We had to get some shopping done, that much was obvious, and we could use that as a good excuse to take a better look at Inverness.


Pete was adamant that he wanted to have a row in the boat. This was something we were all happy to do, weather permitting, and we pencilled that in for our after breakfast activity. We’d get up, have some breakfast, row the boat, nip into town and then head home for dinner and board games. Lovely.

We set a wake up time of no later than 9AM, returned home to play Scrabble and then retired to bed. I thought that I’d try and get up a tad early and set my alarm to 7:30, with the goal being to have a wash so that there would be less danger of bathroom congestion. My alarm when off at 7:30 and I promptly switched it off and went back to sleep. Ah, the best laid plans eh?

I naturally awoke at about 8:50AM, which is either an incredible testament to my body clock or a case of good old fashioned luck. The travelling the previous day had clearly tuckered me out more than I had realised. Adam appeared to be even more knackered than me, as he lay in his bed not stirring.

Voices down in the kitchen led me to believe that Pete and Luc had awoken. Either that or one of them was up and talking to himself, which I didn’t think was likely. I ventured downward to find Luc and Pete both awake and in different states of alertness. Pete was up and rearing to go where as Luc looked like he would like another hour in bed.

When we had arrived the previous day, the cleaner had dropped off some local bacon, sausage and eggs. Luc decided to cook these up while we waited for Adam to stir, which he promptly did soon after. We looked outside to see that it was overcast and rainy. Though this didn’t conspire to make the Loch look any less beautiful than it already did, it didn’t really look like boat riding weather.

A decision was made to eat breakfast, go to Inverness first to give the weather a chance to improve and then head out boating in the afternoon. Luc cooked up the bacon and sausages and it was genuinely some of the nicest food I’d ever had. There was a natural saltiness to the bacon and the sausages were both succulent and meaty. We set off to town well fed and raring to go.

Pete kindly said that he would handle the driving and we set off on the best route the GPS could provide us. This seemed to take us on an outside route that bypassed the route we had taken the day before when reaching the cottage. The view on this journey was considerably more scenic as it took us along the side of a hill that I sadly was unable to get the name off and by the side of a Loch. It wasn’t Loch Ness but it was certainly a large one regardless. Had there been time, I probably would have found out just for information’s sake, but we were in the middle of a near 50 minute journey and there wasn’t really anywhere to pull over. The scenery was incredible though, as if there’d be any doubt to it being otherwise.

We passed a giant Tesco, upon which we planned to visit on the way back, on the outskirts of town and continued onward for 5 minutes or so until we spotted the river and realised we’d hit the City Centre. One complaint I will have about Inverness is that it’s difficult to find free or cheap parking, but then again that’s a complaint you could level at most cities. In the end we left the car in a small Tesco Express car park that was about a 2-3 minute walk from the River Ness Bridge. Naughty I know, but we’d had a look around for street parking and had no joy, so we got creative.

There were two main bridges that traversed the River. The larger one, known as Ness Bridge, was what we used to cross over to the main shopping district, but there was another bridge that was about 2-3 minutes further down.

Pete did what he normally does whenever he visits somewhere, and headed straight for the Charity Shops. Pete is a dedicated Charity Shopper and has a keen eye for spotting a bargain. We had briefly lived together in a flat just besides Parrs Wood in Stockport. It was a mere 10 minute walk or so away was Didsbury, a rather well to do part of Manchester, where Pete would often spend his Sunday mornings travailing the Charity Shops and usually picking up some genuine good deals.

Pete made his way to the Charity Shops while myself and Adam inspected a bizarre architectural design outside the shops and besides Debenhams. It was a model of a boat but once that was sinking. It seemed to be almost completely out of place but also seemed to completely belong as well.

Pete’s desire to visit the shops became quickly apparent. Well aware that the eventual voyage on the rowing boat may in fact be a messy one, Pete had decided to buy a cheap pair of pants for a pound or so that he wouldn’t mind getting messy while on the boat. Myself, Luc and Adam decided that this would also be a good idea and promptly bought some of our own. I bought a plain t-shirt and a pair of brown trousers for a grand sum on £1.50. Mistakenly though, I did not try the trousers on, a mistake that would later come back to haunt me.

We then ventured into a nearby souvenir shop and had a look at the assorted Scottish Themed Merch that the shop was trying to sell. I had a look in case they had any merchandise for Inverness Caledonian Thistle, the areas local Football Team, but I was left disappointed. There was, however, a fair bit of Rangers and Celtic merchandise available for purchase. The fact that both these teams played all the way down in Glasgow had not seemed to come into consideration when the shop was opened. It would be like going to Newcastle and finding the shop only had Manchester United and Manchester City stuff for sale.

Among the bizarre football related tat for sale were hats, scarves, mugs and, I promise this is not a joke, rubber ducks. Yes, rubber…ducks. Who on Earth is travelling all the way to Inverness to buy a Glasgow Rangers rubber duck? If you have in fact done this, please feel free to send me a stamp addressed envelope detailing all of the drugs you took that day when you travelled into town to make the purchase.

Luc, Pete and Adam, happy with their Charity Shop togs, decided to head to the Tourist Information Centre. I briefly hung back and sent a text to 118 118, asking for the address of the Inverness Caley club shop and its opening times. I was told the shop was next to the stadium and was usually opened till 5PM. I was also provided with a number to call the club. I promptly did while the lads looked in the Tourist Centre, and got confirmation that there would indeed be someone there until at least 5PM. I made a quick note, and continued onward.

As we continued to explore, we passed a Shoe Zone and decided to go in. Knowing that we likely were going to be doing some walking in the wilderness, I felt it prudent to pick up a pair of walking shoes. My old pair had long since bit the dust. As it turned out, Adam hadn’t brought any either, so we promptly bought two pairs of decent walking boots for a mere £25. Satisfied with that, I also nipped to another souvenir shop to buy my mum a postcard.

Postcards are now quite an antiquated way of conversing while on holiday, but my mum often still sent ones to me while she was vacationing. I felt she’d appreciate me doing the same, so I found the silliest card I could and sent it to her first class, so she’d definitely get it before I got home. It was a card with the famous blurry back and white picture of the Loch Ness Monster on it. Believe it or not that used to scare me a bit when I was a nipper.

With most of our business conducted in the City, Pete had a surprise for us. While researching things to do prior to our journey, Pete has discovered something quite brilliant. Stan Fraser, a marine fanatic living on the outskirts of town, had built a scale model of the Titanic, yes THAT Titanic, in his back garden. http://www.heraldscotland.com/news/home-news/titanic-museum-in-back-garden-a-top-attraction.21474100

Not only had Stan built this but he’d also built an assortment of other marine themed attractions as well as essentially turning his house into a mini Titanic museum. On top of it all, it was free to get in. He was up-keeping this incredible place and not even asking a penny for admission! We simply walked through his front gate, walked into his house and he let us loose in the museum. He’d amended his hallway into a makeshift reception area.

It truly was incredible to think about all the time he must have spent on this place. Not only that, this place was open every day of the year except for Christmas Day and New Years Day. This man was running a living, breathing tourist attraction in his back garden and he was doing it all year round! I’m almost certain that even if someone did pop round on Christmas Day, he’d probably let him in to look at the ships while he tucked into his Christmas Dinner.

There was an area provided where you could make tea and coffee that had a collection box. I emptied my pockets to show my gratitude. I would recommend anyone that may be reading this to visit Stan’s back garden. Just keep an eye on your kids, especially if it’s west as the boats can get quite slippy

That’s enough for one chapter. I’ll go into more detail about our day trip to the City in my next one

Thursday 16 October 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 4

As mentioned in a previous chapter, Pete had decided to fly to Inverness and meet us there. This was mainly a financial decision as it would have been cheaper for him to just fly in directly as opposed to coming up from London to Stockport via train. Pete’s flight was due to arrive at Inverness airport at 2PM. We arrived at Inverness airport at 3PM (oops) and waited for Pete in the car park.

After a couple of minutes waiting in the cark park, with a nary a Peter in sight, Luc decided to call him. The good news was that Pete’s plane had landed and he was in Inverness. The bad news was that he was currently on a bus to city centre, as apparently that was where we had agreed to meet him (Double oops)

Pete said he was waiting for us at a Morrison’s in the city centre, so off we duly went to meet him. Thankfully, the store was quite easy to find and it even had a petrol station, meaning we could not only pick up some much needed food supplies but we could also refuel the car at the same time.

It was good to see Pete and I gave him a manly hug. His flight had apparently been a bit bumpy, but he’d made it safely and that was all that mattered. His journey had taken a luxurious 2 hours in comparison to our 7.

My first impressions of Inverness were that it was a nice city with a mixture of both modern and classical architecture. I would get a chance to have a better look at it the next day. We knew that we had to buy some shopping as the cottage was over 45 minutes out of town and in the middle of nowhere. Pete was adamant that we do a full shop but there just wasn’t room in the car for us to take that much shopping back on top of everything else already in there. We decided to get what we could now and then come back the next day to get the rest and also see more of the City.

I was relatively happy with this outcome as I fancied seeing Inverness in more detail anyway and coming back for some shopping was as good an excuse as any. We picked up some essentials while in the shop. Bread, Milk, Juice, Irn Bru etc.

Irn Bru is of course Scotland’s favourite soft drink and in fact it even outsells Coke. It’s an orangey fizzy drink that is excellent when one is trying to kick a hangover. We decided we had to get some, one because we were in Scotland and two because it’s delicious. We ventured into the fizzy drinks aisle to find that the Irn Bru was not only in plentiful supply but also took up almost a quarter of the entire aisle! The Scots love their Bru and no mistake. The last time I had seen that much orange in one place was when I went to see the 2014 Scottish Cup Final and looked over at the Dundee United supporters with all their tangerine shirts and flags.

Adam found some Scotch Meat Pies and put them in the basket. Pete was also looking at picking up some Haggis but I was reluctant to buy so much Scottish stuff in one go. I don’t know why but I’ve always been a bit embarrassed to come across as a tourist when travelling. There’s no reason to feel this way of course, I mean I AM a tourist and part of the reason for going to a new place is to do the touristy things that have made that place famous in the first place. I didn’t mind coming off a bit touristy but I didn’t want to go the whole hog. I just wasn’t ready yet.

Once we’d stocked up and refuelled the car, it was team to find the cottage. We input the postcode and the Tom Tom™ and it found the destination quickly and without complaint. Pete offered to drive but after stretching my legs and seeing that we only had 45 minutes or so to go, I decided I would finish what I’d started and drive us the rest of the way.

After 10 minutes or so our journey to the cottage met a road block, literally. A road that we needed to follow was closed, meaning that we were going to need to find a new route. I turned to a side road to the right and passed a little newsagent that will return to our narrative later on. It was at this point that the road quality started to deteriorate.

The previous roads had been narrow but had also been actual roads. While passing through the mountains on the way in to Inverness, I had noticed what could quite possibly be the most reasoned and honest road sign I had ever seen. It had stated “Frustration costs lives, please allow overtaking!”. It might as well have said “Listen you daft baw bag, this lid wants to overtake you so just let him for God’s sake before the idiot motors past you and collides with an oncoming salt truck, ay?”

The roads we were on now were even narrower than that one in the mountains, although they did at least have designated areas where you could pull in to let oncoming traffic pass. We headed left down a side road and it became patently obvious very quickly that that road was made for monstrous 4x4’s and not Toyota Yaris’s.

This is not to say that Japanese cars aren’t sturdy. I remember driving to Northampton in my old Nissan Micra and taking a wrong turn that left us driving up a hill that even a Jeep would struggle with. I’ll never forget a group of ramblers passing by and viewing is with bemused surprise as we desperately tried to stack rocks in the massive holes in the ground enough for the Micra to pass. Turning around was not an option at this point. Amazingly, I managed to get the car out of there and as we passed the ramblers on the way down they greeted our arrival back to civilisation with rapturous applause.

There was no need for such desperate measures in this instance. We pottered along as best we could until we came across a giant puddle in the road that was about 3 feet deep. Thankfully there was enough room to turn around and we made our way back to the main road. After travelling a bit further down the road, we eventually found “Diversion” signs that led us back onto our desired route. The Tom Tom was then able to pick up the rest of the journey for us, at least until the very end.

As we carried on driving down the windy bends, the road started to open up and we started seeing cottages and houses in the surrounding fields. This suggested we were starting to get to where we needed to be. We also passed the Whitebridge Hotel, which the map that Pete had printed off told us was only 5 minutes away from the cottage. On we toddled along the road and suddenly the GPS asked us to take a right turn. We promptly did, expecting to find the cottage waiting for us but instead we found a closed gate and a nearby caravan housing a tattooed Londoner.

After a quick conversation with our new southern chum, the lads came to the conclusion that we’d taken a wrong turn. Thus began a torturous half an hour or so where we tried to work out where it was we were actually supposed to go. We’d been given the vague direction of “turning right at a reddish brown sign” which is about as helpful as someone telling you that Mali is “Somewhat south of Europe”

Thankfully, after what seemed like an age, we spotted a sign that vaguely matched the description and found the cottage just as night was starting to set in. The cleaner and her husband were just leaving as we arrived. We were promptly given the keys and entered the cottage.

The cottage had two floors. The first floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom. One of the bedrooms would be Pete’s while the other would be both mine and Adam’s. Downstairs to the ground floor led the kitchen/living room and the third bedroom where Luc would reside. There was a set of doors that led the way out to a spacious garden, where at the bottom Loch Knockie awaited.

The few of the Loch was absolutely staggering and well worth the price of the cottage alone. Pete quickly made his way down to the dock at the bottom of the garden to inspect the rowing boat like he was an excited child on Christmas morning. The boat itself was half full of water from the previous nights rain. We tipped the water out as best we could and then turned the boat over on land should the rain decide to fall again.

With no other option for dinner, we drove down to The Whitebridge and had our tea there. I had a delicious Venison Pie and a pint of Ale called “Nessie”, that was flavoursome with a mild kick.

We returned to the cottage and began the plan for day 2, which I will cover in the next chapter.

Tuesday 14 October 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 2


Chapter 2

An interesting fact about Inverness, it’s quite far away. One of the reasons why Inverness had won out over Ireland as our eventual holiday destination was that it seemed easier to get to. To get to Ireland would have required either flying and renting a car or driving and catching a ferry.

My family had often gone to Ireland during my youth for holidays and there were two main ferry journeys you could get. Liverpool to Dublin or Swansea to Cork. Myself, Luc and Adam are all based in Stockport, so we were either looking at a relatively short drive to Liverpool, followed by a ferry and a long drive down to Waterville or a long drive to Swansea followed by a ferry journey and then a difficult drive along windy Irish roads.

I could still remember how torturous and long the ferry journey could be from Swansea to Cork, especially if you went during the day. Inverness, despite being away up North, was at least just a car journey, and a direct one at that. It was decided that I would do the driving, so I ventured to TheAA.co.uk to see how long the journey would be. I didn’t like what I found.

It takes roughly 7 hours to get from Stockport to Inverness via car. Yes, 7 hours. All of a sudden I started to worry about what I had got myself into.

Pete now lives down south with his girlfriend, so he decided that he would fly to Inverness, a mere 2 hours, and then we could pick him up. He said that he’d have his parents drop his suitcase round the day before.

Pete’s flight was due to get in to Inverness around 2PM, so I decided that the three of us would have a set off time of 7AM. Luc and Adam were informed, I did my packing and awaited for Pete’s Dad to bring the case round, which he duly did. It was at this point when panic set in. We were going away from the Monday 6th October and would be returning on the 11th. However, Pete was going to be staying at his parents for a few days after returning from Scotland, and he’d packed accordingly.

We were going to be travelling in my Toyota Yaris, a car not really known for being overly spacious, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that Pete’s case could probably fill the boot on it’s own. It was time to get creative. Quick texts to Luc and Adam to ask them to pack as light as possible. Luc replied saying he’d already intended to. Adam replied that he hadn’t even started packing yet because he thought we weren’t leaving until the 7th!

Ever see the scene from “Phoenix Nights” where Brian Potter finds out that his house band are stuck in Stranraer? Those who have won’t struggle to picture my reaction to everything at this point.

Thankfully, I was able to compose myself enough to get some sleep and we managed to cram all of our cases into the car the following morning. Pete had also insisted that we bring some board games with us as the cottage didn’t have a TV. Somehow we contrived to fit everything into the car and off we set to Bonnie Scotland!

In Chapter 3, I’ll cover the journey itself as well as closing out the first day of the holiday.

Dominik Diamonds Are Forever: FIFA 15

I’ve recently had a birthday so I decided to celebrate being one year closer to death by acquiring a Playstation 4. This is my quarter life crisis I think. While most people buy a car or start dating someone relatively younger than them, I go and blow 350 Smackers on a gaming console. £350! That’s 70 Bison Dollars!


I did get a free copy of FIFA 15 with the console at least, and I’ve been playing it quite heavily over the weekend. There’s not much I can say to differentiate this from previous FIFA reviews really. It’s a FIFA game. If you like FIFA, you’ll like this. If you don’t like FIFA, this game isn’t going to convert you.

The usual problems are still there in that you can’t change captains during the match, sometimes goalkeepers are overly erratic and the AI can be cheaper than Tesco Value Ginger Ale.

Many of the world’s most prominent club and international teams are present with their most recent kits, formations and players. The gameplay is essentially the same with a few tweaks here or there that EA Sports felt were necessary to include so they could justify a new game in the series.

There are some definite improvements on previous titles though, in the PS4 version at least. The presentation is absolutely excellent and mimics the SKY and BT Sport TV presentation to a tee. Graphically the players look like chunky cartoon versions of their real selves, but they move fluidly and tumble over like drunken crash test dummies when they collide into one another. The physics engine in general feels like it’s had a genuine overhaul for the better.

The gameplay hasn’t changed that much, and nor should it really. Change for merely changes sake really doesn’t make any sense when you have such a successful and popular franchise. FIFA is now pretty much in “tweak” mode and I don’t expect it to make any drastic changes unless a competitor comes along with a new engine and interesting angle on the Soccer Video Game market.

I remember getting some stick from my review of FIFA 14 as I didn’t really talk about the online mode. I’m afraid I’m going to do the same on this review but I can assure it’s not without want of trying.

Believe it or not, I have ventured online on FIFA titles in the past. Back on previous FIFA games you could just hop online and play in friendlies and also Pro matches pretty quickly. I tried to play “Pro Clubs”, which is where you take control of just one player in the squad and then play big online games with other players. However, you have to join a team first before you can play. I created my player, searched online for some Everton supporters with their own teams and then sent out some transfer requests. No dice

Then I noticed that I could create my own club, so I promptly founded the “Toffee Apples”. However, I’m still currently the only player in the squad, so it won’t let me play any matches. So yeah, I would have liked to have included a bit about Pro Clubs in the review but sadly it was not to be.

I did receive a code for Ultimate Team, and I know some people out there love that, but I just couldn’t be bothered with it. I’m sure you can find a detailed review of it on IGN somewhere. Really, Pro matches and playing against friends is all I really use the online mode on FIFA for and I currently only have one friend on PSN and he hasn’t been online at the same time as me so we’ve not had a chance to play.

I’m tempted to mark the game down for this actually. Why can’t it be like previous FIFA’s and just let you online for a quick Pro’s game? Why all the faffing with being in a club and such? Surely EA took into account that some of us are psychotic loners who might find it hard to find friends? I mean, isn’t your typical EA Exec a cold, emotionless, sociopath (Satire) who would find it hard to make friends, even in an online setting? Wouldn’t they be able to comprehend that their fellow sociopaths (More satire) might struggle to actually find friends to play with?

Bad FIFA, no perfect score for you!

That being said, this has everything it needs to keep FIFA aficionados happy. It’s smooth to play, well presented and I have sunk literally hours into career mode already and I’ve not even finished my first season yet, so you know it has a good lifespan.

Buy it, love it, caress it and hope for more of the same in 12 months

9 out of 10

Thanks for reading

Peace Out

Monday 13 October 2014

A Trip Away - Chapter 1


It had been nearly seven years since I last went on a group holiday with my friends Pete, Luc and Adam. That involved a trip to Blackpool that led to half of us getting ill, one of us getting so high that they had a panic attack and one of us getting a parking ticket for being illegally parked outside a tranny bar.

Ah, memories.

Considering how long it had been since we had a jaunt away from home, we looked to do something a bit different. We had had city trips to Amsterdamn and London as well as seaside trips such as the one to Blackpool. For our most recent holiday, we looked to two films that we all enjoyed for inspiration in regards to the destination. Those two films were “The Wicker Man” and “Withnail and I”

Thus we decided to rent a cottage in the middle of nowhere in a place where the locals might be tempted to kill us in a ritual sacrifice. Inverness fit the bill quite nicely.

In all seriousness, the inspiration was much more from Withnail. The idea of getting away from it all was something that resonated with all of us on a certain level. A chance to get away from work and other personal commitments and just enjoy some peace and quiet. I originally looked at getting a cottage in Waterville, which is actually in County Kerry Ireland. When the logistics of travel seemed to be overly complicated, Pete suggested Inverness. It didn’t take long for him to convince the rest of us that this was a good idea.

I’d long been fascinated with The Scottish Highlands since a very early age. The pure remoteness of it all and the beauty of the scenery had always had quite a profound effect on my senses. I couldn’t really think of anywhere further away that didn’t involve me getting on a boat or plane. The Highlands are a place so remote and wild that even the Roman’s hadn’t bothered to conquer them. They probably had taken one look at the roving hills and waist high thistles and thought “Sod it, let’s just build a wall and hope for the best”

Pete had found a cottage about a 45 minute drive from Inverness. Not only was it literally miles from any town or city, but it was also adjacent to its own private Lake called Loch Knockie. If that wasn’t enough, the cottage owner had also promised us a rowing boat that we could use to explore the Loch should we wish to. Pete of course wished to. To top it all off, we were also 30 minutes away, at most, from Loch Ness.

The minute I saw pictures of the cottage I knew it was perfect, as did the other two lads, so Pete promptly booked it.

So, we had a cottage, now we just had to get to it. That and more in Chapter 2

Saturday 6 September 2014

On Reflection: Star Trek: Into Darkness

This write up might get me into hot water with certain people. Namely dedicated Star Trek fans, or “Trekkies” as they are sometimes known.


Trekkies are an example of Hardcore Fandom. They know about as much about Star Trek as dedicated football supporter knows about their team. They in turn defend and support Star Trek with the level of dedication and ferocity that an Everton Season Ticket holder who has been in the Lower Gwladys for 20 years would support The Toffees or a Man United who has sat in the Stretford End for a similar period of time.

Hopefully that football analogy will help some people get a handle on how truly dedicated Trekkies are and why they get so into their chosen form of entertainment. A Trekkie knowing how each scene plays out from one episode to another is pretty much on par with a football supporter knowing the score of every game in a particular season.

Trekkies who travel all over the country going to conventions are similar to football fans travelling to away games to support their team. It’s a similar level of dedication and takes up just about as much time in the lives of those people.

So, please excuse me as I retreat into my bunker, as what I’m about to say may in fact generate a similar reaction to standing the middle of the Kop wearing a “Liverpool are right load of pish” T-Shirt.

Ahem, I still kind of like Star Trek: Into Darkness.

*Ducks for Cover as an angry bunch of people wearing Spock Ears set their phasers to “KILL”*

Yes, I still enjoy this film and find it entertaining. This is the same film that most people, either Trekkie or not, seemed to not really like. Trekkies treated it as a giant slap in the face while casuals didn’t really understand why certain characters being certain characters was a big deal and why a certain scene was the way it was (Trekkies who saw the Original Star Trek II will know which scene I’m talking about)

But I feel I fall into a sub category that might be just perfect for what this film was aiming for. In my opinion, there are 3 types of people who you would expect to go and see this film (We’re excluding critics, who will see it because they “have” to and thus the film wouldn’t be targeted to them)

Category One – Trekkies

Category Two – Casual cinema goers who know pretty much next to nothing about Star Trek or its history and want to eat popcorn and watch stuff explode.

Category Three – People who know enough about Star Trek to get the references but who won’t be offended if it’s not a completely favourable and honest adaptation of the material so long as they can be entertained while the film is on.

Seeing as I fall into the third category, I really found myself enjoying this film. It’s not as if the story is anything great, but there’s some brilliant hammy acting and enough exciting action scenes that I was thoroughly entertained throughout.

To me the appeal of Star Trek has always been the over the top acting and ludicrous sci-fi premise. Half the fun is seeing William Shatner ham it up outrageously or Patrick Stewart performing his role like King Lear has accidentally been sucked into an alternative reality and finds himself having to captain a spaceship.

The best acting in a Star Trek film is acting that acknowledges how mad the whole thing is and caters to that madness accordingly. At one point Benedict Cumberbatch, our villain of the piece, delivers the following line “You couldn’t even break a simple rule, how could you be expected to break bone?”, in a stereotypically deep evil voice. What isn’t awesome about that?

Cumberbatch “gets” it in regards to what this film truly is and he’s excellent in it. He affixes other characters with his cold stare and lowers his voice an entire octave to sound as preposterously evil as possible. And I love it! Love, love, LOVE it!

I like all the archetype characters that show up in this film.

Stereotypically evil villain?

Check

Young upstart space captain with a point to prove?

Check

Gruff senior commander?

Check

Always irritated, take no nonsense and never suffer fools gladly ship Doctor?

Check

Wacky comedy character complete with alien sidekick?

Check (And played by Simon Pegg to boot)

Half Alien/Human character struggling to adapt to human life and constantly learning new lessons about what it means to be human?

Check

Gorgeous, intelligent and self-reliant female character who just happens to be slamming the Half Alien/Human character?

Check, Check, Check, Check!

This film doesn’t even need much of a story for me to enjoy it. It has a wacky ensemble of characters, all played by a smorgasbord of actors that I like. It has silly fight scenes and stupid set-pieces followed by explosions. This film knows exactly what it wants to be. It want’s to be your standard sci-fi action movie with just enough Star Trek stuff in it to qualify it as a Star Trek movie, and I’m totally fine with that.

I can completely understand why Star Trek fans don’t like it though. You really get the feeling that the people making the film wrote a sci-fi movie and then tried to force the Star Trek characters into it, rather than developing the characters and then building the story around them.

For a dedicated Star Trek fan, that understands the characters on a level that people like myself don’t, this film is one giant slap in the face. The film makers have condensed the characters down to their most basic of attributes so that there’s very little here that a Hardcore Trekkie could respect or appreciate. If the Trekkies want to argue that the film makers have bastardised an iconic series, I will fully support them in that view point. I just don’t have a stake enough in the argument for it to make me hate the film outright.

Hilariously though, they’ve put just a little bit too much Star Trek in for non-Star Trek fans to really take to the film. So basically, the two biggest groups of people who will view the movie will probably both end up not liking it.

And this isn’t a good film. The story is weak, the characters fall flat and the ending is as cheap and flat as they come. But it really entertained me. What can I say? I got out of this exactly what I wanted.

Star Trek: Into Darkness is a bad film that I enjoyed. That’s the fairest way for me to put it. I can understand why other disliked it and I think they are full justified if they want to feel that way. For me the film resides firmly as a guilty pleasure that I can enjoy for its cheesiness and general stupidity.

Thanks for reading

Peace Out

Tuesday 2 September 2014

On Reflection: Man of Steel

So, a while back I reviewed Man of Steel in an overly long and rambling review (http://thisandthatmikey.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/mike-watches-movie-man-of-steel.html )


To save you a long read, I essentially said that I found the action stuff enough to be entertained but overall I considered the movie to be below average and thought it wasn’t anywhere near as good as the Richard Donner version starring Christopher Reeves and Gene Hackman.

On further reflection, I think I was wrong. I think I may have been a bit too easy on the film and let it off lightly. Don’t get me wrong, if you’re looking for something to do on a quiet afternoon you might as well fill it with super powered aliens smashing up towns and cities in, admittedly exceptionally directed, fight scenes.

Yes, the action in this film is still good, that I will not deny. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are lots of movies that I’ve hated and they also had great action scenes. Attack of the Clones has perhaps one of the most surprising and exciting fight scenes of all time in it but I still consider it one of the very worst films I’ve ever seen.

There is a definite difference between your standard Hollywood Action Film with a cast of generic archetypes blowing stuff up and a movie about one of the most famous fictional characters and a genuine cultural icon like Superman. People will scoff at that comment, but it’s true. Superman is not just a character that’s been around for decades but he’s also an allegory for the very best that we as humanity can attain to. He’s the ultimate good guy who, despite being so much more powerful than humanity, he still wishes to be considered human himself. Despite humanity being a generally flawed and imperfect species, his belief in the very best of us leads him to continue to defend us at every turn.

He is not, however, Jesus. But the fact that every single form of entertainment is doing Jesus analogies now (Even WWE with Roman Reigns at the Payback Pay Per View) is another article for another day.

In the film at one point he even tells one of the stuffy army types that he’s as “American as Apple Pie”. And he says it without a trace of irony, because Superman doesn’t consider it to be ironic.

So yeah, this film needed more than just well shot action scenes to get a passing grade. I had my chance and I fluffed my lines. I undervalued the status of Superman as a character, the status that the Richard Donner film gets so right.

Henry Cavill has all the potential to be an excellent Superman. He rarely gets a good line but, on the one of two occasions he does, he delivers it like how you’d want Superman to deliver it. There is a charming superhero in that chiselled body that’s trying to break out if a good writer will let him.

But the writing in this film is anything but good. The characters are paper thin and as one note as it gets. I know it’s somewhat unfair to keep stressing how much better the Donner film was, but the fact remains that it was much better. Yes, it had silly slapstick at times and yes it’s pretty corny when Superman saves Lois from a crashed helicopter only to deliver the “flying is still statistically the safest way to travel” line.

But you know what? I like that cheesiness and I find the slapstick funny because it’s done with skill and passion. I was shocked to hear that a lot of people don’t like Gene Hackman’s Lex Luthor in this as well. Really? The dudes’ brilliant in the role. It wouldn’t be anywhere near as good without him. Compare him to the main villain in Man of Steel and I know who is more memorable and well written.

I think what separates Donner’s Superman from Man of Steel is quite a key factor in why one film is good and why the other isn’t. The people making the Donner one actually set out to make a Superman Film whereas the makers of Man of Steel set out to make Batman Begins if Bruce Wayne could fly.

And why couldn’t we have the original theme in there, if even just a re-mixed version of it? So many bang average scenes would have benefitted from Superman saving the day as the John Williams theme hit at the moment of triumph. I’m all for people doing their own thing, but that’s a no brainer surely? Even Superman Returns had the Williams theme in it. If that atrocity is doing something better than your movie, then I think you need to pull back and take stock.

So yeah, on reflection Man of Steel is worse than I remember. Maybe the backlash from so many other people out there kind of geared me to not liking it as well? Or maybe the countless essays and angry videos made me realise how much I actually liked the character of Superman and how culturally significant he really is?

I think I’d got it into my head that I didn’t like Superman, that the character didn’t interest me. He was just the “Big Blue Boy Scout” and less traditional and darker heroes like Deadpool and Batman were so much cooler and more interesting. I think I’d convinced myself that Superman was dull because he always tried to be so good. I had convinced myself that a man who can fly and can also shoot lasers from his eyes was boring. I officially nominate myself as an idiot.

I had suppressed that in my younger days one of my favourite shows was Lois and Clark. I used to look forward to that with the anticipation I barely have for any episodic television show these days. I had suppressed that the very rare times I would purchase comics in my youth, I’d usually always buy a Superman one. I suppressed watching Superman and Superman II and loving them. I even suppressed playing the Superman game on the Sega Game Gear (Possibly because it was rubbish, but hey ho)

I still think Deadpool is as counter culture and cool as a comic book character can be and I also think Batman is nothing short of brilliant. But hey, I loved Superman! Superman is awesome!

So in a weird roundabout sort of way, I kind of owe Man of Steel a debt of gratitude. If it hadn’t been such an awful film, I may not have been so offended at the treatment of Superman that I realised how much I actually liked him. So thank you Man of Steel, I guess. Thank you for being such a poorly written story with papier-mâché characters and an unnecessary Jesus analogy.

Thank you for angering my blood enough to make me reconcile with one of my childhood favourites.

Next time, I’ll look at another bad movie that I gave a free pass to because it entertained me. Will I stand firm on that one? You’ll have to wait and see

Thanks for reading

Peace Out