Happy Anniversary: Part I...

Me and the Missus are on holiday in Crete.

Today we celebrated 10 years of marriage by having a lazy day walking along the beach and getting upgraded to a very flash new hotel room courtesy of my wife's desire for the better things in life and a shrewd ability to negotiate.

Walking along the beach we shared some romantic anniversary-type thoughts.
'You never had that much grey hair when we married,' said the Missus.
"You were a size 12 when we first married,' I reply.

Apparently that does not constitute romantic banter.

Some time later I am getting the blame for the sea splashing her as we walk along the beach paddling. So I decide to defend myself.
'I cannot control the waves. I do not even pretend to able to control the waves. I am not King Canute,' I protest.
'Some of the letters in that king's name are close enough...' says the Missus.

We married well. Still happy...

The Write Stuff!

It's been a busy few weeks on the writing front at From Beer To Paternity Towers with stage plays going off to two theatres, a radio comedy going off to a major production company and a TV show being sent out to two other TV production companies.

The optimism such periods of creativity promotes is a wonderful thing. It's the first day of the football season where your team can still win everything... before hope disintegrates after a string of bad results; it's the anticipation of a first date when there may be romance and mind-blowing sex ahead... before you get dumped for a younger and prettier model.

I'm no longer overly optimistic about sending scripts out. I put the work in and ensure that whatever I'm sending out is better than the last thing I sent out but after that there are so many other factors that decide what gets picked up and what doesn't.

But, like anything else that really matters, it's important to keep doing it and to keep trying because the alternative is just to give up. And that sounds a bit rubbish.

Besides... I can't really do anything else.

Rolling News: Part II...

One of my oldest friends is now back in the UK after living in New Zealand for many years.

We're both Goolies and we both did A Levels together and our lives have intertwined at various stages over theatrical interests and martial arts interests without us actually knowing at the time... and only discovering these bizarre crossover points when we periodically caught up to discuss things.

Apart from us most recently discovering a newish shared passion for cartography, one of the things we're both a bit obsessed about is grappling and groundfighting so once we're sorted with a venue we'll be doing some rolling and some skill swapping.

I'm looking forward to this immensely. I think he is too. I can't think of a better way to reconnect with someone than to do this and in anticipation I've been going over all my old BJJ, submission wrestling, catch-as-catch-can wrestling and judo books and reading up on armbars, kimuras, Americanas and triangle chokes.

I'm even going to suggest we jokingly give ourselves a name:
Goole Wrestling Club: London Branch

It has a certain ring to it...

Rolling News: Part I...

Besides Hapkido, one of my martial arts passions is grappling and groundfighting and I'm a big fan of a website called Grapplearts.com.

This site is run by a guy called Stephan Kesting, who's a Brazilian Jiu-jitsu black belt and a certified instructor in Combat Submission Wrestling under Erik Paulson. The site is part-shopfront for Kesting's various DVDs (and I have his three iPod apps and they are excellent in case you're wondering) but it also has a load of free stuff that you can sign up for, including an email newsletter that features articles and videos on all manner of grappling-based stuff.

Kesting also interviews various luminaries from the world of grappling for a free podcast and his most recent interview features a high-level American BJJ competitor named Ryan Hall, who's a IBJJF/CBJJ Mundial world and European champion and claimed a medal at the ultra-prestigious Abu Dhabi Submission Wrestling World Championship.

The interview is very good and features quite a lot of information that is way over my head but Hall said two things that really struck me.

The first was when he was discussing a particular technique and he very carefully emphasised that this was his understanding of the technique at the moment.

I thought this was important because it showed that even as a high-level competitor he wasn't done understanding the technique yet and that he knew his understanding of it may yet change in years to come. In other words the technique was not a done deal but a steadily evolving organic entity that grows as his understanding of it grows.

The second thing that struck me about this was when he explained that if a more successful or feted grappler should explain the technique in a different way then anyone interested should disregard what he said and listen to them instead.

A willingness to keep on learning and humility. I bet he's a fantastic teacher.

Sign up to Grapplearts.com if you want to hear the full interview.

Love In The Time Of Cholera...

Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s magical realist masterpiece remains one of my favourite books. The story of a teenage love affair in Columbia that is reignited several decades later, it remains one of a handful of books that I go back to every several years and reread and get something new from every time.

When I was a single man I could usually gauge how long any new romance would last by asking if any new partner had read the book and what they thought of it. It wasn't that I was being some sort of intellectual elitist as several former lovers hadn't read the book and they were utterly lovely people, but when you discover you have the same shared literary passion as somebody new in your life then an immediate bond is formed.

When I first got together with the Missus we were discussing favourite books and when I asked her about the Marquez novel her immediate response was 'I've read it and I love it.'

One of the bits in the book we talked about way back then is towards the end of the story when the reunited lovers are travelling on a boat. They are both well into old age and they both have to deal with the practicalities of old age, such as inserting suppositories into one another and masking the smell of their urinary accidents. It sounds disgusting but it beautifully suggests that love is not just the province of the young and that there is also tenderness in caring for your lover in a very intimate way.

Some 15 years after me and the Missus got together, I fear we are now turning into the two ageing lovers from Love In The Time Of Cholera. With her chronically injured shoulder and my occasional martial arts ninja-ries we do seem to be spending lots of time nursing each other at the moment.

I fear suppositories are probably just around the corner, which would be ironic as she often says I'm a pain in the arse. You can probably make your own, better gags...

Black Belt Grading: Black Belt Presentation...

I was officially given my black belt a few weeks ago in a presentation involving the head of our academy and my teacher.

It was a fab day made even better when the Missus turned up with the Boy who came along to support me on a surprise visit from university. But I also felt slightly subdued and overwhelmed by it all.

For me learning a martial art and reaching black belt has been a journey about overcoming my own inadequacies. I'm also not a naturally gifted athlete so it's very much been a journey of perspiration rather than inspiration. I'm quite competitive, too, so it's been pretty tough seeing other people leave you in their slipstream as they pass you by and excell where you struggle.

In the days afterwards it felt like I was mourning the end of something. It felt like something had gone.

In reality, of course, learning a martial art is a continouous journey where the more you learn the less you realise you actually know and getting any new belt is only a signpost on that journey, although getting a black belt is obviously quite a significant one.

In poker it's often said that the really seasoned players have no comprehension of the actual value of the chips they're playing with. The idea of their monetary value is not important. Their chip stack is just a way of seeing where they are in the game. It's still being in the game that is the important thing.

It's an analogy I hope to now adopt with martial arts. The belt is just a symbol of where I am. The only thing that matters is ensuring I'm still in the game and sometimes playing well.

If I've learnt anything through all of this it's probably something along those lines.

Ticket Touts...

My delight at securing tickets to see PJ Harvey at the Royal Albert Hall is only matched by the horror of my credit card feeling like it’s been raped after booking through a major ticket agency.

I am astonished they can charge that much in additional fees.

The robbing bastards should advertise with a mask and a flintlock pistol.

Rioting Jokes...

My favourite two jokes about the riots:

Rioting in Guildford. Three caffe lattes and a three bean salad damaged.

Extensive rioting in Hull. The city centre and several buildings and major landmarks have been destroyed. Officials fear it may cost as much as £7 to repair the damage.

Lemmy: The Movie...

Myself and the Missus watched Lemmy: The Movie on BBC4 at the weekend.

For those who missed it check out the BBC iPlayer as it's a hugely entertaining two-hour profile of the Motorhead and former Hawkwind frontman.

Chief Foo Fighter Dave Grohl and a host of other rock and metal stars joined in to pay tribute to the godfather of heavy metal, who was either sat down with a Jack Daniels in his hand talking about his colourful career or meandering about doing 'normal' Lemmy things like talking about his collection of Nazi memorabilia or driving a tank.

It's a brilliant film and Lemmy is thoroughly engaging and actually quite sweet. He also has the best line:
'You can't have everything... Where would you put it?'

Genius.

Guilfest...

Myself and the Missus plus our Friends From The North and their We-Get-Him-If-They-Die Kid headed off to Guildford's annual music festival Guilfest at the weekend.

The Missus is currently sporting a chronically injured shoulder and my broken toe remains a bit broken so the two of us hobbled around the various stages and various food and beer stands and still had a ball.

Last year I took the We-Get-Him-If-They-Die Kid to his first thrash grunge metal gig at Guilfest when we saw the excellent Japanese Voyeurs. This year he decided he wanted to see Chipmunk and Ziggy Marley, prompting the joke:
Q. How does Ziggy Marley like his donuts?
A. With jammin' but not as much jammin' as his father.

Highlights of the day, though, were fab pies from Pie Society (see what they did there?) and a set by Hugh Cornwell playing both Stranglers favourites and his own solo stuff.

We also saw a band called Joana And The Wolf, fronted by London-based Lithuanian Joana Glaza (above), who was a bit Kate Bush, Patti Smith, Bjork and PJ Harvey all rolled into one. Her band, The Wolf, were also very tight and the set veered between haunting etherealness and kicking guitar-heavy tunes. Well worth a look on YouTube and they also have three singles on iTunes.

We also saw Erasure, who were so-so, and Public Image Limited, who were pretty fab. John Lydon apparently helped install a septic tank in Guildford when he was 15.

James Blunt was also headlining on one of the other stages. I headed home a little early as my injury was playing up and I went to the loo before doing so. I was toying with the idea of having a shit but decided on a piss instead. It was there I heard James Blunt.

Much as I like Blunt when I've seen him interviewed on chat shows I find his music awful and it was almost like my bowel was offering judgement: he's isnt really shit, just a bit piss-poor.

Black Belt Grading: The Result...

I have passed my grading and on 31 July I will be presented with my black belt.

I was a bit teary when I found out. It's been a long journey and, throw in some injury frustrations, and sometimes it's been a tough one too. But I am delighted. I am also relieved. I am also a bit worried that I now have to be a black belt and maintaining those standards will be hard work. In fact I'm pretty sure I'll feel like a total fraud for the first six months.

I initially decided to celebrate this personal milestone by buying something I've lusted after for quite a while. It's a Paul Hanwei Zatoichi sword (above). But then I realised it would just sit on a wall as a beautiful thing. And the Missus said it was quite close to owning a gun or buying a fighting dog so I thought better of it.

So instead I celebrated with a Chinese takeaway, a bottle of beer and a bad Steven Seagal movie. I am not very rock and roll. My hellraising days are probably done... on the plus side my black belt ones are just starting.

Hacked Off...

It's been many years since I decided I would make a conscious effort to never fund anything associated with Rupert Murdoch.

I'd rarely bought any of his papers anyway but I think it was about the time of the NOTW paedophile campaign, headed by then NOTW editor Rebekah Wade (now Brooks), that I decided I should make a conscious effort. From what I could see this dangerous campaign launched a lynch mob mentality and created such a climate of hatred that a paediatrician was attacked when some thicko couldn't tell the difference between a sex offender and a medical professional.

I appreciate the fact I won't have Sky in the house or buy The Sun or The News Of The World or The Times, etc, probably doesn't make too much of a difference to the News Corp coffers, but it's me exercising my power as a consumer not to add to Murdoch's profits. And it may be a pointless gesture but I'd still rather be pissing against the Murdoch wind that buying into it.

So it genuinely impressed me the other day to see the Milly Dowler phone hacking scandal so disgust a group of people that they've set up a campaign on Twitter designed to hit News Corp where it hurts and encourage advertisers not to spend money on News Corp titles. Ford cars have already dropped their adverts and other companies are said to be reviewing their policies in the wake of the scandal.

And there's more... the Murdoch bid to buy outright control of Sky could now be in jeopardy because their is a clause about being a 'fit and proper' body when buying a major media company and the behaviour of senior NOTW executive clearly casts doubt on their suitability.

The sad thing in this, obviously, is it's taken sideshow events surrounding the murder of a schoolgirl to stir people into action and that her family are now being forced to relive the horror of it all yet again.

When The Sun screamed the headline The Truth across its front page in 1989 then proceeded to accuse Liverpool fans of looting dead bodies at the Hillsborough disaster, the paper suffered a circulation decline in Liverpool that it never recovered from.

I hope the rest of the country follows this example and makes News Corp and the NOTW and its sister titles such as The Sun pay not only for its criminal activities but for its arrogance in thinking it is above the law.

Go people power! Hit them where it hurts...

Glastonbury: Part II...

Things I learnt from watching Glastonbury on the telly this weekend:

i) Anna Calvi is pretty bloody amazing. She's playing London soon and I'm going. Fact.

ii) I actually like Coldplay. I have now bought three of their albums and found the one I accidentally stole from my mate Spindle. And I will listen to them. Repeatedly.

iii) I still like some of U2's music but will no longer replace my old U2 vinyl with CDs/MP3s as it funds tax-dodging hypocrites. That's you Bonio. And your mates. Scum the lot of you. I don't care if you wrote Two Hearts Beat As One.

iv) I think I would like Elbow if I gave them a proper go.

v) My days of festival going are well and truly over. I'm now veering onto the side of the Missus. Unless it's at least four stars I'm not staying there.

vi) The BBC licence fee is a bloody bargain. Brilliant coverage of Glastonbury on TV, radio and online all weekend. Plus shedloads of other good stuff too. We should protect this institution against the threat of barbarians like Murdoch, the Tories and the rank legions of the Daily Mail at all costs. It remains a brilliant public service broadcaster and is one of the few things that genuinely makes me proud to be British.

That's probably it...

Glastonbury: Part I...

It is Friday night and me and the Missus are in bed watching the highlights of Glastonbury.

U2 have just come off stage and are being interviewed and, strangely, no mention is made of the threat of protestors turning up to their set to draw attention to the fact they are hypocrites whose lead singer bangs on about making poverty history... while at the same time channeling his and the band's money into a tax haven so they don't have to pay anywhere near the requisite amount of tax a group of multi-millionare superstars should pay.

Five minutes into the interview the Missus turns to me and says:
'No only is Bono a self-righteous cunt, not is only is Bono a self-righteous, tax-dodging cunt, but he's also a self-righteous, tax-dodging, boring cunt.'

I couldn't have said it finer than either her or than the above cartoon from the New Internationalist.

Quote Of The Day...

'A will finds a way.'
Orison Swett Marden

Breaking News...

I have broken one of my toes while training.

I would like to pretend I was kicking my way through cement blocks during a demonstration to a wowed audience... but this would be a lie. It was much less dramatic and a bit of a daft/stupid breakage that involved kicking somebody over my head during what is called a sacrifice throw and managing to get my toe caught in his belt/uniform.

I hoped it was just sprained but on waking up this morning it was very painful and very swollen so off to A&E I went. The upshot is it's broken and not dis-similar to what Wayne Rooney did to his foot. And like Wayne Rooney I have to lay of any exercise for at least six weeks. And hobble around a lot.

I did, however, think of the following joke:
Question: What is the difference between me and Wayne Rooney?
Answer 1: Wayne Rooney broke his metatarsal while I narrowly avoided that injury and instead fractured the bone below it by hyperextending the toe.
Answer 2: Wayne Rooney is successful, rich and famous and I am not.
Answer 3: I can read, I have a full head of hair and I am not a love rat.
Answer 4: I am not a cunt.

Choose the answer which you think is the funniest. Or the most accurate...

Words Of Warning...

It is Sunday morning. I say morning. It's actually mid-day. Me and the Missus are curled up in bed and watch Gok Wan on telly. She turns to me and starts to speak.

'You know... you're my favourite husband...'
She rarely says anything slightly sentimental so I enjoy the moment.

But then she adds the following:
'...so far...'

I continue to watch Gok. Sometimes saying nothing is better. And Gok will make the bad thoughts go away...

Pasta Joke...

It was my birthday recently and the Missus bought me a place at an evening course where you learn to cook fresh pasta, various sauces and a lasagne from scratch. The course was at a place called La Cucina Caldezi, which is a restaurant with a cookery school attached in London's Marylebone.

The course was fab and since attending I've made my own ravioli, my own tagliatelle and a lasagne from scratch. These may sound like minor triumphs but the results of doing something quite simple well are both very tasty and incredibly satisfying. I will never purchase shop-bought fresh pasta again because compared to the stuff you can cook yourself using flour and an egg it just doesn't compare.

I've always liked and enjoyed cooking but I've started adding more recipes to my basic repetoire since we got the kitchen done and last night I added freshly made cookies to my ever-growing list. Unfortunately I added a chocolate button onto the middle of each one I made and when they were cooked they resembled breasts.

On the plus side my breast cookies tasted very nice and my new love for baking may have a theme. I could try a cake that looks like an arse next...

Power Of The Press...

My journalistic career – as it is sometimes laughingly called – has reached a new low. And this is even lower than being forced to interview two former soap stars by one particularly pushy PR for interviews that were never going to appear anywhere. Ever. It was just to make the ex-soapies feel more wanted. And important. And I was the fall guy. A sort of fluffer for damaged egos.

Today I have been invited to attend a party at London lapdancing bar Spearmint Rhino.

But in order to get in and get free champagne I first have to stand outside and form an interested crowd with other professional liggers as various F-List celebrities enter the building. Then after they've entered I can go in, neck free booze and interview the said F-List celebrities.

It's the lowest point in a career that has had many lows. And to make matters worse I'm not even invited for my journalistic prowess. Part of my reason for being invited is to be part of a crowd. And I have to be an interested part of the crowd too. I probably won't be going...

The Missus also just phoned. She’s been invited to attend an event as well. Hers is a swish polo party with the stupidly rich and the properly famous. The difference in events sums up our marriage. I've traded up and she's traded down.

At times I recall I once thought about a career in teaching. I could have been a teacher doing something useful. It must be better than this...

The Washer: Part I...

It is Friday night and me and the Missus are heading out for a meal. I go to the loo then wash my hands (some politically correct nonsense about hygiene) and as I turn the tap off I feel something give and the tap starts to leak.

I share this news with the Missus and after the usual barage of 'You idiot', 'You're so heavy-handed', 'You always break things' and 'I told you to sort that out ages ago' we form a plan of action to phone the plumber the following morning.

Then I formulate another plan and borrow a line from Peep Show.
'I can fix it. It's probably only the washer. I mean, how hard can plumbing be? It's just Lego... with water.'

My wife's face drops and it is at least ten minutes before she smiles. And this is only after she punches me several times.

But I'm still going to fix it myself...