A dog called 'arry

Sitting in the pub garden. A bottle of Heineken Zero. People watching. As you do. There's a large man nearby, in cargo shorts, with a dog. A small, white perky dog with a short, erect tail. The dog is clambering all over another dog (I believe there's a technical term for that but this is a family-friendly blog). "Stop it, 'arry!" says the man. Which makes me wonder after whom is the dog named. And on what kind of whims do people name their pets?

I think I've mentioned before (Pets and Kids) that I 'ad a budgerigar which I named Little Jim, after a character in The Goon Show, which was a wireless (that's what we used to call the radio in those days) show at the time. The 50s. Here are the actors: Peter Sellers (the smooth one with wicked mimicry skills), 'arry Secombe (the Wynne Evans [see the GoCompare ads] of his day) and Spike Milligan (the completely bonkers one):

I asked my friend Tony one day why 'is pug was named Lily. "She 'ad that name when I got 'er as a rescue dog and I thought she might suffer a self-esteem crisis if I changed it" 'e replied. I may 'ave slightly embroidered that but that's the gist of it. So no 'elp in answering my question.

My first instinct with pub dog was 'arry Kane, about whom I 'ave blogged recently (As a Spurs fan...). Or Prince 'arry, about whom I 'ave never blogged. But it's just as likely that 'arry's owner was called 'arry, although that could be confusing for all concerned. Maybe a 'arry Potter fan? Large man was too young to 'ave any empathy for 'arry Truman; on a football theme, it could 'ave been 'arry Redknapp (a true 'arry if ever I saw one) or Cliff Richard.

Wait! Cliff Richard, Nigel - where does 'e fit into the 'arry pantheon? 'cos 'is real name is 'arry Rodger Webb, silly; everyone knows that.

I was mulling this over, making notes ready for the blog. "Why don't I just ask 'im?" I thought ('im being the owner not the dog). I looked up and ... they 'ad gone. Bummer, I'll never know.

The Dawn of a Golden Age

I felt that a new Golden Age arrived today, as I ate a cooked breakfast - egg, bacon, mushrooms, fresh tomato, hash brown and beans, since you ask - in Asda this morning, resuming a twice a week routine - Wednesdays and Saturdays - from a previous era, aka a Dark Age. Accompanied by a real paper version of the Times, rather than that on iPad. A true feeling of liberation from the dark, satanic (should that be capitalised, I wonder? Satan as a quasi deity?) days of lockdowns, tiers and tears. A week from now, all being well, I shall be on my way to London and thence to Kent to visit friends and family; I shall breathe a sigh of relief.

Fellow video game players will be familiar with the concept of a Golden Age, during which you can earn more gold, produce more killing machines and build more wonders. In real life, historians look back on particular times and nominate them as Golden Ages.

The ancient Greek philosopher Hesiod introduced the term in his Works and Days, when referring to the period when the "Golden Race" of man lived.

That is from Wikipedia and it occurred to me that I use a lot of their material, so I decided to make a small monthly donation in recognition of that. As Jimmy Wales, founder of Wikipedia, writes: "We're a non-profit that depends on donations to stay online and thriving, but 98% of our readers don't give; they simply look the other way. If everyone who reads Wikipedia gave just a little, we could keep Wikipedia thriving for years to come."

I'm happy to be in the 2%.

I guess the designation of a Golden Age is often nationalistic: the Greeks pre-Prometheus, the Romans of Virgil and Ovid, Japan's Helan Period, the English first Elizabethan age, the French Belle Époque. Even pirates (1650-1726) and Hollywood (1920s?) have their 'Golden Ages': a bit budget, perhaps, but no more so than an Asda breakfast.

For some extremists, Brexit was posited as heralding a new Golden Age for Britain. Although I voted for Brexit, mine was a vote against the increasing, anti-democratic centralisation of the European Union, a realisation that the UK could never have enough influence to counter that in a union trying to grow its membership and behave on the international stage as an economic closed shop with tariff barriers when the rest of the world is trying to achieve a free trade Golden Age. I don't believe there will be a post-Brexit Golden Age for us, just as I don't believe there would have been a new Golden Age as part of the EU. For us, it's a slow, inexorable post-imperial, post-colonial decline and we can make the best of it in whatever guise we choose.

In my research for this post, I discovered a Golden Ages board game which seems to be just completely me. Problem is I have never been able to interest any family or friends in gaming; I'm hoping that, in a few years' time, my grandsons will be compliant. Anyone for a game? 2-4 players, 90 minutes, ages 12+, complexity rating 2.89/5.

We should all beware: in Civilization VI a Golden Age is often succeeded by a Dark Age, as a result of over-producing, increasing debt and just general hubris. From Wiki again:

In Hesiod's Works and Days, the Golden Age ended when the Titan Prometheus conferred on mankind the gift of fire and all the other arts. For this, Zeus punished Prometheus by chaining him to a rock in the Caucasus, where an eagle eternally ate at his liver.

Just not in the next two weeks, please.

Someone else of a restless nature

I read about Juanma Lillo, assistant manager at Manchester City, who has apparently managed 17 football clubs in his career. Googling "which manager has managed the most clubs?" gives you Roy Hodgson, who has managed 16. I if were Juanma I'd be a bit cheesed off about that.

In 1981 Lillo, a Spaniard, took his first managerial position at Amaroz KE, a small club in a small town called Tolosa in northern Spain. I could find no mention of this club in any of my usual reference material so it's possible it doesn't exist any more. Probably not Lillo's fault. His most recent managerial dalliance was in China at Qingdao Huanghai, who play in the Chinese Super League.

Hodgson's managerial career began in 1976 in Norway and subsequently encompassed clubs in England, Sweden, Switzerland, Denmark and Italy as well as coaching the national teams of Switzerland, United Arab Emirates and Finland.

In comparison with these two giants of peripatetic football, Alex Ferguson was manager of Manchester United for 26 consecutive years. Not quite a one club manager - he managed three Scottish clubs before United. Arsene Wenger managed Arsenal for 22 consecutive years and these two stand side by side as the longest successful managerial reigns in modern football.

But they pale in comparison with the records of Fred Everiss, who managed West Bromwich Albion from 1902 to 1948, and Guy Roux, who managed Auxerre in three separate reigns totalling more than 40 years.

What is it about these two distinct types - Lillo and Hodgson restlessly seeking new challenges and Ferguson and Wenger (in the same era) challenging themselves to drive their clubs to new heights? If you Google career restlessness, you get items characterising it as a negative, requiring remedial coaching:

"Agitation and restlessness: what causes it?"

"Feeling unhappy and restless at work?"

According to that, Lillo and Hodgson are suffering from some kind of illness, or least a syndrome that needs remedies but it seems to me more likely that's a misunderstanding of lifestyle choices: I've taken this team as far as I can, now I (and they) need a new challenge. A search for improvement rather than a Ferguson/Wenger search for perfection. Indeed a recognition that there is no perfection and that the pursuit of it is doomed to failure.

Of course, it could be that Lillo and Hodgson were not very good at their jobs and kept getting sacked; you'd have to be prepared to do more research to establish that. You might also have to be of an uncharitable nature.

I'm glad there are different kinds of people in the world and we should appreciate difference as a positive. Hooray for them all.

Fronted adverbials

Earlier today, I discovered fronted adverbials. "Earlier today" is one.

Sadly (another, I think), fronted adverbials is a term I had never heard of in my long life. Suddenly (enough now, I think), I came across it in a comment column by Alice Thomson in the Times. Obviously better educated than me, one of Alice's claims to fame is that the city of Alice Springs in the Northern Territory of Australia - an almost unbearably hot desert city, I can attest to that - was named after the wife of her ancestor Sir Charles Todd. So better connected than me too.

According to learningstreet.co.uk "Teachers will introduce children to fronted adverbials from Year 4 onwards". What? I'm first hearing this in Year 78! Maybe they hadn't been invented when I was at school.

Charles Todd was Superintendent of Telegraphs of South Australia when it was decided to build a telegraph line from Port Augusta to Darwin independent of the other colonies, and work began in September 1870. The Overland Telegraph Line was one of the greatest civil engineering feats in the history of Australia. There's a monument to it, and him:

It stands 50 miles south of Daly Waters, at the point where the northerly and southerly sections of the Line were joined in 1872. In 2007 I traversed this route on a wonderful train called the Ghan

stopping at Alice Springs for a few hours on the way. Here's one of the Alice locals I met:

The indigenous people who have native title to Daly Waters and its surrounds are the Jingili. They traditionally spoke a language called Jinguli, although a survey in 1997 found that only between 10 and 15 people still understood it.

Jinguli typically uses verbless clauses. So they probably haven't heard of frontal adverbials either. That makes me feel better.

=INT(RAND()*10+1)

Along with a group of family and friends, I play a game called Footy Naps. Every week of the football season - which for some reason isn't 12 months of the year - we each select a match result, with the bookmakers' odds. It it loses, you lose one point; win and you get the odds. Last week I selected Sheffield United to beat Crystal Palace at odds of 2/1. If United had won, I'd have gained 2 points; they lost and so did I: -1 point.

Sounds easy, I hear you say. Not so. I laboured for many years thinking - as do most of the players - that I knew better than the odds setters - the bookies - and, with a bit of work each week, I could find a value 'bet'. You have no idea how dispiriting this can be; week after week, the bookies prove they know what they are talking about. Not every time obviously - otherwise they would go out of business - but more than me.

For the 2017/2018 season, I decided to change tack. I had to find a strategy which met three criteria: (1) it had to involve the absolute minimum of effort and time (2) the chosen match is ideally on TV (usually a given since by definition the away side will be one of the big hitters) (3) it had to be fun, meaning a general expectation of losing punctuated by the occasional big win and the resulting accolade from my fellow players of "wow Nigel, how did you do that?" I decided to choose the longest odds home selection in the Premier League each week. As there are only 20 teams in the Premier League and therefore only 10 matches, the selection takes about 30 seconds; check one. Isolating just one league and just home matches simply furnishes a minimalistic algorithm for my efforts. Outcome: I got my maiden win in the competition. And this match gave me the biggest win @ 18/1:

I watched the match on TV. Check two. It was stressful but hilarious and fun. Check three. For accuracy I should state that this was a FA Cup match; I have to adapt in weeks where there are no Premier League games (I'm still waiting for Gibraltar to get a 150/1 win in the dreaded international weeks).

Next season I adopted the same strategy and it was a disaster but in 2019/2020 I made a comeback with an even bigger win, once again courtesy of Manchester City:

A 22/1 win contributing to my clean sweep of season title, first half of season win and second half of season win.

Once again reverting to the mean, season 2020/2021 has been a disaster. Miles behind with only three match days to go, I thought I'd have a bit of a change and decided to use a randomisation process. I considered using the I Ching but that proved as far removed from my "minimum effort" principle as it is possible to be. So I just used some random number stuff in a spreadsheet.

=INT(RAND()*10+1) selects the match (values 1 through 10).

=INT(RAND()*3+1) selects the bet: home win, draw, away win (values 1 through 3).

Simples.

Hence the afore mentioned Sheffield United selection. That fact that I didn't win that particular nap doesn't invalidate the method. It hasn't been the best of seasons for me ...

... although I had the pleasure of playing alongside my sons. They can comment on their own best wins of the season; looking forward to that, boys.

I did have one spectacular win:

Aston Villa beat the Champions 7-2. Seven! Remarkable. And a 17/2 winning nap for me.

Process before outcome; sloth before vigour. Works for me.

53 degrees North

We're going on a a trip. A round the world adventure. Following the 53° N line of latitude. We begin in ...

Wigan. The new centre of the world. In a circumnavigational sense. The Romans had it wrong: all roads lead to Wigan, the birthplace of George Formby.

Shall we go westwards (Ho!) or eastwards? I think in the initial stages of our journey there is more land to the east, so that's it.

Crossing the North Sea (I wonder if Icelanders call it the South Sea) we arrive on the Dutch island of Texel, famous for giving its name to a breed of sheep.

Moving on, we arrive in Germany, Lower Saxony to be precise. The capital is Hanover, the 19th century Kingdom of which fell out with the English because we had the temerity to optate a female monarch (Victoria). Thence to the West Pomeranian province of Poland. In that country a province is called a Voivodeship and I believe many people arrive there looking to buy a sturdy, ultra reliable car.

I hope you're keeping up with this whistle stop sheep/car chase. Leaving Volvoland we meet the people of Belarus. According to nationsonline.org Belarus is famous for "potatoes, tractors, and being one of the poorest countries in Europe by total wealth." They need to do something about that reputation; maybe hire a PR firm?

Next it's Russia. There's a lot of Russia to cross and we dip in and out of Kazakhstan, following our 53rd parallel. The Baikonur Cosmodrome, home to Russia's manned space flight launches, is in Kazakhstan. We leave Russia temporarily as we pass the world's largest by volume freshwater lake, Baikal, and cross the tip of the Chinese province of Heilongjiang, which takes its name from the Heilong River, which marks the border between China and Russia.

More Russia: Sakhalin Island and the Kamchatka peninsula, then we cross the Bering Sea to the US outpost of Alaska (Sarah Palin will unfollow me for 'outpost'). Alaska is possibly the most faunal and scenic stopover on this trip so we'll do a bit of sightseeing: salmon, moose, caribou, bears, whales, bison, puffins, jellyfish, glaciers, fjords, mountains, lakes, rivers; what's not to like?

Actually we're island-hopping through Alaska: Attu, Kagamil and Umnak, then Canadian islands - Hibben, Moresby and Louise - in British Columbia. Like Russia, there's a lot of Canada - we travel through Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Winnipeg, Ontario, Quebec and Newfoundland/Labrador. What to say about the lovely Canadian people? They speak English👍 They rank "the world’s most reputable nation" 👍 They are all nice 👍 They are great at developing video games 👍👍

Across the Atlantic to Ireland. Home to Guinness, U2, James Joyce, George Best and the Giant's Causeway. I hope the DUP aren't going to get picky about whether Northern Ireland is in Ireland; it's on my route; get out of the way! Lovely accent - although I imagine they think of my diction as the accent. Crossing the - often very rough - Irish Sea to Mount Snowdon in Wales, the most beautiful of British mountains and finally home to ...

Butter pie, courting cake, scouse, aughton pudding and pea wet; yes it's ...lovely Wigan. It's raining cats and dogs but Wigan, we love you.