Jock

Andy "Jock" Davidson - Hull City legend.

He died on Sunday at the age of 81. With a record 579 first team appearances, Jock was a one club man and was the club captain during one of City's purple patches - the mid nineteen sixties. That's when I saw him play many times - a fearless and uncompromising fullback - you wouldn't want to be tackled by him. He first came down to Hull from Scotland in his late teens. It was 1947 and he stayed for the rest of his life. Former star striker Chris Chilton once said of Jock, “As a captain and a motivator, and as a guy who led by example, Andy Davidson was second to none. It was total commitment.” His son Neil said,"If you cut Dad open it would be black and amber. There would be a bit of green and white for Celtic but Hull City was his life. It was win at all costs for him throughout his life and he fought right until the end."

He suffered from Alzheimers in his final years. Bravely heading thousands of heavy old school leather footballs on soggy winter pitches may have contributed to his demise. Jock might have played yet more matches for The Tigers had it not been for three broken legs and a year of National Service with the Royal Air Force.

What a shame Jock won't be around to see Hull City's FA Cup semi-final match against Sheffield United this coming Sunday.I invite other bloggers to leave their personal tributes to Jock Davidson in the comments section May he rest in peace.

__________________________________________________

A day later - I notice that no one else has commented on Jock Davidson's demise. I can only imagine that this respectful silence is punctuated by the tinkling sound of your most mournful teardrops.

Love

"Jane Eyre" was written by Charlotte Bronte when she was thirty years old and was first published in 1847. She was born in 1816 in the West Riding of Yorkshire, one of the daughters of the Reverend Patrick Bronte. Her mother had died when she was five years old. She outlived all of her siblings - the more famous sisters Emily and Anne as well as Maria, Elizabeth and her troubled brother Branwell. Charlotte herself died when she was only thirty eight having married the previous year.

Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights" is a brilliant novel with many layers, different narrative techniques and secret corners. At times its grammar is complicated and some sentences have to be read more than once to secure understanding. In contrast, I found "Jane Eyre" to be a very straightforward novel - fluent and easy to read which - given its age - was somewhat surprising. I had expected it to tax my powers of concentration to the limit.

What motivated me to read this nineteenth century classic for the first time was recent walks I have taken by North Lees Hall near Hathersage in Derbyshire. It has often been said that Charlotte Bronte modelled Mr Rochester's home - Thornfield Hall upon North Lees but having read the novel very carefully I submit that it is far more likely that she had North Lees Hall in mind when she created Moor House - the family residence of the Rivers family. It is altogether a more humble, smaller property than the Thornfield Hall she describes and Moor House is located, like North Lees close to open moorland in sight of the parish church.

Jane was a governess at Thornfield Hall where she gradually fell in love with the master of the house - Edward Rochester. These loving feelings were reciprocated and they were about to be married but at the last moment Jane discovered that the house contained an awful secret - her husband to be was already married and the wife he had acquired in the West Indies was a violent lunatic living in a secret attic room. Rather than follow her heart, Jane obeyed her Victorian moral code. And in this extract you see Rochester expressing his growing and desperate realisation that he will not alter her will. He has in effect lost her:-

"Never," said he, as he ground his teeth, "never was anything at once so frail and indomitable. A mere reed she feels in my hand!" (And he shook me with the force of his hold.) "I could bend her with my finger and thumb: and what good would it do if I bent, if I uptore, if I crushed her? Consider that eye: consider the resolute, wild free thing looking out of it, defying me with more than courage - with a stern triumph. Whatever I do with its cage, I cannot get at it - the savage, beautiful creature! If I tear, if I rend the slight prison, my outrage will only let the captive loose. Conqueror I might be of the house; but the inmate would escape to heaven before I could call myself possessor of its clay dwelling-place. And it is you, spirit - with will and energy, and virtue and purity - that I want: not alone your brittle frame. Of yourself you could come with soft flight and nestle against my heart, if you would: seized against your will, you will elude the grasp like an essence - you will vanish ere I inhale your fragrance. Oh! come, Jane, come!" (page 417)

Reading good books can be a strange affair. Motivation is important - you have to be in the right frame of mind and sometimes you have to be at the right point in your life. Having unfettered time to devote to "Jane Eyre" was important. Many times in the past my appreciation of good books was spoilt by the interruptions of everyday life - mostly in the form of work with its hamster-on-a-wheel urgency. Good books deserve good quality attention - not snatched and sleep-tainted chapters at midnight before you turn off the bedside lamp.

1943 film credit

"Jane Eyre" wouldn't be right for everyone but for me at this particular point  in my life it was a very good read. I enjoyed the way it gave me glimpses of the author's being as she walked in Jane Eyre's dainty shoes and I also appreciated the historical by-products of the novel - indicating something of northern English life and manners in the first half of the nineteenth century. As I have suggested before, the blurb and cover design of the Penguin paperback make this classic novel look like romantic pulp - aimed at an entirely female audience ("Love can overcome anything") and that is - I think - insulting to such a trailblazing  writer. Besides, as a subject, love should not be seen as the exclusive domain of women readers. Just like Mr Rochester, male readers are also keenly interested in love - this core aspiration of human life.

Rhymes

Inspired by George W. Brush, I decided to make a quick sketch of Georgia blogger and former CIA man (Sweden Division) Mr R. Brague (aka Rhymes with Plague, aka Bjorn Leddstrom). The preparatory sketch took me less than five minutes to do and precedes a full size oil painting  that will hang in the forthcoming "Sweden and the Cold War" Exhibition in Stockhom University.

Brush

Q. By  a  C grade high school student?

A new artist is born! It's not George W. Bush former leader of the free world any more - it's George W. Brush budding artist. He claims that he practises every day and has employed an art tutor to improve his skills. Today, George W. Brush launches his first exhibition. He claims to be inspired by his great hero - Winston Churchill who also dabbled in painting. Furthermore, Brush claims that his intimate relationship with a wide spectrum of world leaders guides his "artistry". He was uniquely placed to read the characters of these important  people.

I don't mean to be peevish but it seems to me that Brush is as good at art as he was at leading America. Who can forget the 2001 image of Brush in a school room when an aide whispered in his ear that there had been a terrorist attack on the World Trade Centre. He looked lost, out of his depth, hopeless. And it is the same with his artwork as the accompanying images testify. We can admire his interest in art and his perseverance but the results would have been better - secreted like mythical weapons of mass destruction in his sprawling Texas ranch.

A. No. By the former leader of the Free World

Passwords

I just received this email round robin - co-incidentally from my brother Round Robin in southern France and thought I would share it with my long-suffering blog visitors (all three of them):-

Please enter your new password:

"cabbage"

Sorry, the password must be more than 8 characters.

"boiled cabbage"

Sorry, the password must contain 1 numerical character.

"1 boiled cabbage"

Sorry, the password cannot have blank spaces.

"50bloodyboiledcabbages"

Sorry, the password must contain at least one upper case character.

"50BLOODYboiledcabbages"

Sorry, the password cannot use more than one upper case character consecutively.

"50BloodyBoiledCabbagesShovedUpYourArse,IfYouDon't GiveMeAccessnow”

Sorry, the password cannot contain punctuation.

“Really****edOff50BloodyBoiledCabbagesShovedUpYour ArseIfYouDontGiveMeAccessnow”

Sorry, that password is already in use.....

Springtime

Snowdrops and crocuses are impostors. They are not the true heralds of springtime for that is undoubtedly the role of the trumpeting daffodil. Weatherwise this week has been rather odd so far with stagnant mistiness, sand dust arriving from the Sahara Desert and yesterday a couple of sunny interludes. That's when I got out to snap these daffodil pictures:-

Above, on the easternmost edge of Sheffield - at Handsworth - an embankment parade of jonquils - those miniature daffodils and below I am near the entrance of Bingham Park just off Rustlings Road. - always a stupendous display:-

 Getting closer to the daffodils in Bingham Park:-

On Monday the murky mist hung around all day but I needed a walk anyway so I rambled from Lodge Moor down through the woods at Wyming Brook to the Rivelin dams. Here I am at the lower Rivelin reservoir, looking over the water to Fox Holes Lodge:-

 And here in the woods, I saw a good example of the parasitic arboreal growth or "gall" commonly known as witches' broom. Initially a fungus enters the tree and stimulates new growth even in the depths of winter. The resulting twiggy eruption will often resemble a large bird's nest or the head of  a witch's broom. The fungus is sustained by the unseasonal greenery. The tree - usually a birch - may bear several of these galls which can take years to get to this size:-

That's all I've got to give you today. Now I'll return to page 376 of "Jane Eyre" by Yorkshire lass Charlotte Brontë. The blurb on the modern  paperback front cover is a little disconcerting - "Jane Eyre has been turning girls into women for generations". I guess it's a marketing ploy - trying to funnel this nineteenth century classic into the moneymaking hopper that has become known as "Chick Lit". Frankly, in my ever so humble opinion,  that is an affront to Charlotte Brontë's memory. Only 214 more pages to go then I'll say more. Bet you can't wait.

Confessions

In Hull City's matchday programmes they have a feature called "Confessions" in which particular players are asked to reveal themselves through responses to a series of questions. These were the questions addressed by Irish international Robbie Brady in the last programme:-

What is your greatest fear?
What is your earliest memory?
Which living person do you most admire and why?
What was your most embarrassing moment?
Property aside, what's the most expensive thing you have bought?
What is your most treasured possession?
Where would you like to live?
What would your super power be?
What do you most dislike about your appearance?
Who would play you in the film of your life?
What is your most unappealing habit?
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
What is your favourite book?
What is your favourite smell?
What would be your fancy dress costume of choice?
To whom would you most like to say sorry and why?
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
What has been your biggest disappointment?
What is your guiltiest pleasure?
If you could go back in time, where would you go?
What is the most important lesson life has taught you?
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
What makes you unhappy?
Tell us a joke.

Above, I have deliberately left the questions unanswered so that bloggers who fancy the challenge can just copy and paste them into their own blogposts. And now below, perhaps fantasising that I am a Hull City midfield general wotth five million quid, here are my own responses:-

What is your greatest fear? Fear doesn't really play a big part in my life but I will say a catastophic mechanical failure or tyre blowout while driving at 80mph in the fast lane of a busy motorway

What is your earliest memory? Doctor Baker was in the house and I had been kept downstairs. Mum was in my parents' bedroom and Dad was there too. I was at the bottom of the carpeted staircase and I remember my little brother's first cries from above. I was utterly confused.

Which living person do you most admire and why? I am not one for hero worship. Apart from Shirley and our wonderful children I will say Bob Dylan for his incredible songwriting ability and his endurance.

What was your most embarrassing moment? Perhaps that afternoon at a large English Literature examiners' meeting when a man entered the room dressed as a gorilla. He came right over to my work station and picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder before marauding around the room.

Property aside, what's the most expensive thing you have bought? A Seat Ibiza car.

What is your most treasured possession? My guitar.

Where would you like to live? I am settled here in the suburbs of Sheffield. Moving to the countryside is attractive but also concerning. One of the most comfortable places I have ever been was San Francisco. If I were younger I would have seriously considered living there

What would your super power be? The immediate translation of foreign languages so that no matter where I travelled I would know what people were saying.

What do you most dislike about your appearance? I am too handsome - it would have been nice to be a bit uglier - like other people.

Who would play you in the film of your life? Clint Eastwood in his prime - not the blethering idiot he has become.

What is your most unappealing habit? A toss up between occasionally forgetting to zip up my flyhole and passing foul smelling wind after curry or cabbage (Too much information?)

What is the trait you most deplore in others? Strutting around thinking you are better than others. In my view of life we are all equal and wealth, intelligence or social status are immaterial.

What is your favourite book? I don't really have a favourite book. The idea of it seems quite absurd. There are many books I have enjoyed. At the moment I am reading "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte and I am enjoying it. It's very easy to consume.

What is your favourite smell? The slightly metallic smell of ozone rising from a city street when rain has fallen after a hot, dry spell of weather.

What would be your fancy dress costume of choice? A tiger (Hull City are nicknamed The Tigers).

To whom would you most like to say sorry and why? The young woman who was raped by a gang of Glasgow Rangers supporters on the train that Zippy and I were travelling on - back to Stirling from Aberdeen in 1975. There was nothing we could do.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse? Hello, thank you, please, good morning and "take care".

What has been your biggest disappointment? Shirley's two ectopic pregnancies and losing the children that might have been.

What is your guiltiest pleasure? Salted peanuts.

If you could go back in time, where would you go? Back to childhood when Mum and Dad were alive and there was me and my three brothers at home and Oscar our cat. After passing my eleven plus I would insist on going to Beverley Grammar School rather than taking up the scholarship I won to Hymers College in Hull.

What is the most important lesson life has taught you? That it is very short. That there's no such thing as God. That we should be kind to each other.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? In tandem with Shirley, raising two lovely, fun-loving, sensitive and hard-working children

What makes you unhappy? Macroworld: Extinction of creatures and man's encroachment into natural, unblemished parts of our world. Microworld: Not being able to finish the crossword in "The Sheffield Star".

Tell us a joke. Q. What did the octopus say to the oyster? A....Don't be so shellfish.