If you remember a few weeks ago I joined TikTok? I appear to attract a few other TikTockers (if that’s what they are called) I’m not sure if they are people or robots though. Some of them are people, I know this because they want to sell me services (out of the gutter, please!😂) Formatting, editing, SEO something or other, you know what I mean. I started by explaining I wasn’t looking for those things, but they persist, so now I just ignore. The Bots are easily identified. “Hi, how are you today?” or “Where are you from?” “What’s your book called?” I find it strange because all that information is in my 30-40 second videos. I guess a Bot can’t watch videos. I mean, really, when was the last time you met an old Phillpino or Russian bloke with a Yorkshire accent?
I decided to put the same 40 second videos on You Tube. In the first two weeks my three shorts (they’re YT lingo for short videos, See! I’m getting down with the kids already 😂) I’ve had 3,700 views, 10 hours watching time, 10 subscribers and my last one got 23 likes and 17 comments. BUT, more importantly three book sales. No one asked me a thing, or tried to sell me something. So, I’m happy with You Tube at present.
Out of all the social media Apps I’ve tried this has been the most enjoyable one. Instagram is okay once you get rid of the sex workers. I remember a girl started following me and messaged. “Have you been in my Cam Room?” I replied with. “Why did I leave my socks behind?😂” I never heard from her again.
Aww, bless em, I guess everyone has to earn a living.
There is also a Mexican restaurant, if you’re a runner you’ll know how important carb loading is before a race, so I had no choice 😂
Sunday morning I found myself in the Market Place (the market had gone) 90s House Music blared out from some speakers, a man on a michrophone was sayin stuff (I think they were words of encouragement) Was I the only one shivering under three layers? It was windy! Gillian had her route map for photos, I found some friends, had a photo with one, wished each other good luck and waited until 8am for the start.
Trust me the sky is decieving
The flattest marathon in the country sounds great, but then there is a reason… the terrain is flat with no shelter. 😂
The first 10 miles were okay, averaging 5 min kilometers and looking at an overall time of 03:40:00, but it dawned on me, I had for the most time, a tail wind. By 11 miles the route had turned. 30mph head wind with gusts to 40mph, but I was still smiling when I saw Gillian and her trusty camera at a water station.
Around 13 miles the sciatica started playing up and the hips began to grumble, pace had dropped to 6-7 mins per kilometer, everyone was swearing at the wind 😂 I decided it wasn’t worth it, and the next time I saw her, I’d go home. The problem was I didn’t see her until 18 miles. Now, when you’ve run 18 miles in that wind and only have 8 miles left… well, you may as well carry on?
By 20 miles the rib decided it wanted to play too, I thought I’d broken it again😂 It was then I made some life changing decisions. I was going to sell all my races. Windemere Marathon, Hardwolds 47mile ultra, and 50k ultra, Jersey Marathon… yup, that’s me from now on, just your average fun runner. Spend the rest of my days, relaxing and not dragging Gillian round the country, carrying my gear and taking pictures.
I didn’t get the time I wanted it ended up at 04:17:00, I was in pain and a tad disappointed, but apparently there were 32 people who didn’t finish, I did finish at least.
Smile or grimace?
But now I’ve slept, I’m warm, and I’m thinking. If I improve the hip therapy, reintroduce the sciatica exercises, get some good quality trail runs in, with lots of hills, Windemere Marathon is eight weeks away. I could probably do it 😂
I once gave a carpentry apprentice a written task. Explain the four types of Construction Foundations. For the uninitiated they are, Strip, Pad, Raft, and Pile.
He gave me this:
Liquid Foundation, versatile and good for all skin types.
Powder Foundation, ideal for oily skin.
Cream Foundation good for dry or mature skin.
Stick Foundation, versatile and portable.
He said there were a lot more but I’d only asked for 4.
Trying so hard not to smile, I asked him where he had got his information, to which he replied CoPilot. Not entirely the robot’s fault, obviously he hadn’t read it, but I found that generally carpentry apprentices don’t edit. The worrying thing is; he hadn’t learned anything. This brings me to my real point.
Did you know the brain constantly improves through consisitent, new mental challenges and learning new skills? Plus exercise, sleep etc, But we’ll concentrate on the first two. If you’re writers you probably don’t sleep much anyway. So if we stop using our brain? All I see is a future of numpty’s. Take a look at Reddit’s Author pages. They’re all at it. “I did this with AI. I did that with AI” The last comment I made was to a geezer who posted that he had written a complete novel with AI. Isn’t that an Oxymoron? (Which as a youngster, on the farm, I believed was a stupid cow) How can a robot write a novel and you then say you wrote it? Anyaways, I replied with. “Did someone steal your imagination?” He came back with. “Why?” I gave up!
If they let AI do everything for them surely their brain will shrink, or do whatever brains do when you don’t use them? Doesn’t that mean in years to come our civilisation will end, because as with my apprentice no one will actually learn anything? In which case they won’t know anything. So, I had a brilliant idea (score two brain cells, ka-ching) I asked AI. “If you let AI do your thinking would it cause brain deterioration?” The answer?
Yes, if you consistently rely on AI to do your thinking, your brain can experience a form of cognitive deterioration often referred to as cognitive atrophy or “use-it-or-lose-it” cognitive decline.
Recently there was a football match here in the UK. Aston Villa vs Maccabi Tel Aviv. The Maccabi Tel Aviv fans were banned from attending by the Birmingham Safety Council on intelligence recieved from West Midlands police. After an uproar (obviously not from the crowd) it was discovered the police had used AI to conduct the risk assessment, and it was unfounded. Scary?
The countryside and nature was in my blood, but this was the 60’s and I had been introduced to the world of Superheroes. Batman was on the TV every week and for a while I was hooked. I still have the soundtrack and the annual. 😂
I’ve never been a watcher, I always want to be involved, to be doing something. So, maybe it was time I tried my hand at this superhero business, naturally my first choice was Batman.
Don’t get me wrong being Batman was okay, and I felt inspired, but I was an impostor. I began to search for a yet to be discovered superhero. Difficult without Google🤔. Saturday shopping days meant I was dropped at the library in Wetherby while mum and dad did what ever they did in town. In 1240, King Henry VIII issued a Royal Charter granting the Knights Templar the right to hold a market in Wetherby every Thursday and so Wetherby was a Market Town.
But I was more interested in the wonders of the library. I approached the elderly lady who ran the library and enquired if she knew of the existence of a Hawkboy. She retrieved a copy of A&C Black’s Who’s Who and began to search, to no avail. Eventually I had to infrom her that he was a superhero. She looked puzzled for a moment and then explained it was unlikely a superhero would be listed as they have to submit the biography themselves, which may jepordise their anonymity. I think she took pity on me and added.
“There is a chap in Kirk Deighton who keeps hawks but he doesn’t have a son. So, if someone wanted to take on the role, I think it would be such an adventure.”
That was all I needed, I was over the moon and I began to create my alter-ego. From my base (a tiny cubbyhole under the stairs) I started work. I used my Wolverhampton Wanderers football shirt (yellow), an old pair of mum’s tights, my old trunks (yeah, I know, a therapist would love that!) The batman cloak, utility belt and mask was handy. My utility belt was stuffed with things like my pen knife, laser gun and some baler twine. All I had to do now was hide somewhere and wait for trouble.
When you’re the only kid on the farm there isn’t a lot of crime, but one hot summer’s day mum asked me to go blackberry picking. Would there be blackberry rustlers? I couldn’t take the chance. I wore my costume beneath my ordinary clothes, it was imperative to keep my identity secret. Mum was surprised I was wearing my long farmwork trousers but I won the debate. I was quite an insistent ten-year-old. “You’ll be too hot,” she sighed and we set off.
The sun got higher, burnt off the few meagre clouds, and the heat intensified. I began to pray for a villain, any villain, a naughty sparrow would have sufficed, I was Hawkboy afterall! I began to feel a little sick, my skin felt clammy and I was so thirsty. When I began to feel faint, mum took a good look at me and began to wrench my outer clothes off. I tried to repel her, but eventually I had no option but to reveal my identity. After calling me a, “Silly little bugger,” but promising to keep my alter ego secret, we agreed that Hawkboy could have a day off and I removed the supersuit. There were raised eyebrows when she saw her tights, but I explained how sacrifices have to be made for the safety of the planet. She replied, “Aye, that may be, but not today. Drink some water!”
If you read the first post you’ll know by now at the tender age of five we moved to a different farm. Still miles from anywhere and still the only kid. The school thing was becoming a nuisance, and I discovered it would last for eleven years! At least I could walk to this one… it was only two miles away. Although it did mean crossing the A1. If you’re not familiar with this motorway it stretches (or at least it did) from London to York and then later to Hadrians Wall and was built by the Romans 2,000 years ago. There’d been some work done on it since then and back in the day it was a little safer for a five- year-old, and our cows to cross four lanes of traffic😂
I had another five years of interupted peace on that farm. My mother was quite ill (she’d had a brain heamorrage when I was four-years-old) Some days she didn’t feel good so, no school. She liked the company and I enjoyed taking walks in the country with her. I don’t think the teacher missed me, probably glad of a day’s rest from explaining things twice over. I was usually looking out of the window at the sky, the birds and the trees while planning my next adventure or project. I’d found an old pram and made myself a guider or some call a go-kart. I remember my dad made a hole for the front cross member with a hot poker, we didn’t have a drill 😂
That was me, we might have moved farms but happy days. I even managed to breed a few rabbits and I do remember going through an Artist Stage but it turned out I couldn’t paint. Although my sisters (when they visited) said I could tell a good story, even it it was completely idiotic!
You know that old saying? Nothing lasts forever? Well it’s a lesson I’ve spent many years learning over and over. Things were about to change! I wonder if all you good people have happy childhood memories?
My wife is a therapist and I once asked her… “Should I get therapy?” The answer was a very clear. “No!” Apparently it would be too traumatic for the therapist. 😂 So I wondered, how did I get to this place.
I was born on a farm in the middle of nowhere. I had two older sisters but they were at work or at school. I had a trusty dog from the day I was born. Once I grew big enough, so I didn’t need carrying everywhere, she was a faithfull companion.
From an early age it was just me. This isn’t strictly true, I mean there was ‘Johnny’ (imaginary) He was my best friend and there was ‘June’ (also imaginary) she was a kinda girlfriend. As I remember, Johnny and I spent a lot of time rescuing June from the Indians (or as we now know, Native Americans)
We were farmers, at least they were. I was a cowboy! When we finally got a TV, as I remember, we only seemed to watch Westerns. Cheyenne, Bonanza, Rawhide, Gunsmoke, Wagon Train, Laramie, Sugarfoot, and who could forget Gerry Anderson‘s ‘Four Feather Falls‘. Eat your heart out ‘Thunderbirds‘ I was very happy in my world, Johnny and I riding the range, building log cabins, ableit sticking some branches together to make a kind of shelter. And of course there was always June to rescue. Jeez, that girl got inro some scrapes!
I even had all the gear!
As a three to four year old living in the middle of nowhere I had free rein, and apparently I had a lot of energy. According to my mother I talked a lot. But, hey… give me break, if you spent every day with two imaginary friends, wouldn’t you talk a lot? The problem was, I had my own language. So when I related my day to my family they didn’t understand a word. They would retrieve picture books, and have me point to various images in order to better understand. I was told the most difficult sentence they encountered was. “A howashay in the cooashay.” After some patience they discovered there was in fact. “An elephant in the cowshed.” Which was strange as we didn’t own an elephant.
My elder sister had married her teenage sweetheart when I was a baby, and they had moved into the farm. By the time was two years old they’d had a baby daughter. This had little effect upon my life. I had, for the first two weeks or so entered my sister’s room with toys and posed the question. “Can she play yet?” The answer was always the same, I was told she was too little, and I’d have to wait. It seemed to me babies were a waste of time, they hardly did anything so, I bided my time and concentrated on the prairie, or as the adults called it, the abandoned aerodrome adjacent to our farm.
After two or three years the ‘baby’ became more interesting and I managed to entice it out into the wild. By this time I had a horse called Flicka although to some people it resembled a tricycle. I actually managed to convince the ‘baby’ she was a cowgirl. She took to the role amicably, although I detected some slight misgivings when she was continuously tied to trees, waiting to be rescued. Funny I never had any complaints from June!
Life was good for the first five years. Until one day a man from the village came to visit and I was informed I had to go into the village everyday to attend something called school. My mother told me it would be fun. It wasn’t. Most of the day we were cooped up inside something called a classroom, from where I could see the tops of the trees and the crows fluttering around. Now I knew the meaning of the term, free as a bird. Shortly after that my father became bankrupt and we had to move. At least it was another farm, where he’d secured a job as poultry foreman. The downside was that there was also a village and they also had a school! Little did I know it could get worse 😂
Nope, you’re quite safe, I’m not going to dress as a nun and start singing. This year, or should I say last year, we decided to go away for the Christmas and New Year period. I’m not a Grinch but I’ve never really been much of a fan of either of them. I think I may have been traumatised as a child. Look at the photo and you may see what I mean. 😂
So… we decided to do some winter sun, training in Gran Canaria. Sunshine, runs, hikes and hopefully a bit of horse riding. Oh! did I mention the wine and the food? Although to be fair that was taken in the evening unlike some of my fellow compatriots, beer and cocktails at 10am isn’t really my thing. First up was a run every morning. I found a nice 12k run, to and, along the beach and another one around a great park, called Parque del Sur.
Once we’d settled in and my wife had achieved her 10,000 kilometers since she started running (yeah, I know targets, and all that stuff, but it keeps her happy😂) It was time for the gee gee’s. It’s years since I have ridden a horse, mainly because I don’t like the English way of riding. Whereas the American way is so much more comfortable. Probably why most of the rest of the world use it. We drove up into the hills and booked on for a trek. It was the only cloudy day so a good choice.
The food was amazing, but hey! This is Spain, right? What else would it be, so I was kinda over indulging. I decided to repeat my marketing idea from last year and took one copy of each of my books, and left them on the hotel libary shelves. I thought it was a smart marketing plan as the hotel caters all the year round and can accommodate 1000 people. I was quite excited when the first book disappeared and even more excited when the second did the same. Sadly six days later, they still hadn’t returned. Maybe I won’t write a note inside anymore, and sign them. I figured some fool thought they may be worth something and took them home.😂
It was time to get some hiking done. The hiking in Gran Canaria is excellent. We picked some great days. My favourite was a hike to Roque Nublo I was told by a friend on the hike they have a 126k Ultra race there in March. With a 22,000ft elevation gain. Now that sounded fun but it’s a tad pricy with a 200 euro entry fee and a 270 euro manadatory medical.
It was a chilly start but once the sun broke over the hills and you got out of the valleys it was a beautiful day. Although, someone commented that Roque Nublo appeared to be a long way away.
Apparently a lot of the pines had been chopped down before General Franco came to power. When he was in power he realised how important they were to the island. The needles gather moisture from the clouds and the mist and then they release water into the ground. Hence the nickname ‘Cloud Gatherers’. One tree will provide 150 litres of water per annum. Franco ordered a stop to the felling of the trees and implemented the planting of them which still goes on today. 90% of all the pines in Gran Canaria have been planted by mankind.
As we climbed futher the visibility was so good we could see Tenerife and the summit of it’s volcano Mount Teide at 3718m it is the highest peak on Spanish soil. Maybe next year? 😉
At another point we could see Roque Bentayga. It was here, in 1483, the native Guanche people won a victory over the Spanish Conquistadors. Sadly it was short lived and the Island was conquered soon after.
Roque del Fraile or the “Praying Monk” was our final view before we reached the summit and Roque Nublo. I’ll let you work out why it’s called the praying monk.
And there we were. Roque Nublo. It was quite a hike but well worth it. All we had to do was get back down. 😂
It appears there is no escaping this film around Christmas time. This year Castle Howard decided to use it as their annual theme, and as always it’s treat for the kids. (although there appeared to be more adults than children😉 )
Castle Howard was built over 300 years ago and took 100 years to complete. Most famously used as the setting for the film Brideshead Revisited an adaptation of Evelyn Waugh’s 1945 novel. But this year it was devoted to L.Frank Baum’s novel. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. There were, in fact, 14 Oz books, but his first one, written in 1900, seems to get all the attention. After entering the Castle you are exposed to the semi- demolished home of Dorothy. (She’s already left on a tornado, Oz bound).
We then find ouselves in the Good Witch’s bedroom, because as you will remember, she’s the one who tells Dorothy to follow the Yellow Brick Road and find ole Wiz.
There’s quite a lot more going on that I’m kinda skipping around, it took two hours to get round and I’m sure you good folks need to get dinner on. So after meeting her various companions and hiking to Munchkin Land the Emerald City comes into view. Is it really green or is it a trick? Anyaways we had our photo taken under the Christmas tree
At last Dotty meets the Wizard, but we all know how that ended, don’t we?
But alas, Dot and her friends are being watched the evil eye under the command of the Wicked Witch sees all and a cunning plan is hatched. (you may scream if you feel the urge 😂)
But all’s well that ends well. C’mon…it was a childrens story. Dorothy’s pals get their wishes. I got to meet Glinda, Good Witch of the South and Dotty went home again… Whereas we went outside for a two hour drive home… Yay!
I think the Scarecrow was always my favourite, so I’ll leave you with some words of wisdom from the man himself. Happy Trails, Folks x
I probably don’t need to tell you, but nature is such a phenomena in so many ways. I have started my new book a few weeks ago and was really struggling with the theme. I had the first half of Chapter One written, but I wasn’t sure what it was I was trying to write. The answer? Hike, get outside, climb the hills and let mother nature give you the peace and inspiration you need.
After two hours of hiking up, what we call, the 7 Hills I had the storyline mapped out, This will be the third book featuring Billy Lynch, his friends and family. The trouble that boy and his father get into is… believable, well kinda 😂
After the tranquillity of the forest and the hills and the turn in the weather I decided this week a trip to the coast would be in order. There is something awesome about rough seas. As a young man I once had the privilege of spearfishing during a storm in Gran Canaria. These days when I look out to sea I wonder if I was actually quite mad. But the today’s trek served it’s purpose as I walked I was inspired to write the darker side of the next book. Needless to say not everyone will survive. Ah, days can be so very different 😉 Happy Trails, folks x
I read this book way back in 1973. I had seen the film in late 1972 and was eager to see how the book by (Mario Puzo) compared, or vise versa. I remember my girlfriend’s mother refused to let her go with me because it was too violent. I was 15 and we lived on a Bradford council estate. I could only surmise that my girlfriend hadn’t told her mother of our exploits and the fights between my group of mates and the local skinheads. 😂 The movie is a superb adaptation of the book, which is a rare thing even in those days. The dialogue in many places is like for like and so fans of the book were not disappointed. Maybe that’s why it has been so popular and timeless?
Move on 50 years and I find myself scampering round the back streets of Savoca,Sicily. If you are not familiar with the place, it is set on a mountainside and is one of the most beautiful villages in Sicily. It is also the location of a scene from the Godfather movie. The Bar Vitelli in Savoca is the bar where Michael informs the owner that he intends to marry his daughter, Apollonia.
The bar is now a popular tourist haunt (isn’t everywhere?) It’s full of memorabilia from the film and you can treat yourself to a ‘peasant’ dish of eggplant and cheese on bruschetta for a mere 18 euros.
It is also where the wedding of Michael and Apollonia was filmed and the famous walk down the hillside to the town. What surprised me most was when I went into Google maps the “Wedding Walk” is actually shown as a route 😂. If you are a Godfather fan and do get the chance to visit Savoca in Sicily I can recommend it. Apart from the Bar Vitelli it’s a beautiful place to explore.
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