365 days to go until 30...a look back on the challenge so far

New Zealand was incredible...
but hopefully I'll clock up a few more
air miles before I hit 30

Well, tomorrow will be 1st August 2013 and there are now 365 days to go until I wave goodbye to my 20s and welcome in my 30s.

Ten months ago or so I ended up on a different path to where I thought my life was heading. Having had things mapped out quite clearly, all of a sudden I was a man with no plan. So, having set myself a challenge to do 30 new things before I'm 30, I find myself in the final year of the challenge.

So far I've seen a Maori in a mobility scooter singing Sam Cooke songs in New Zealand; I've been accosted by a hooker in San Francisco and I've written this blog.

I've totted up a few other achievements too:

• crossed the Golden Gate Bridge
• visited Alcatraz
• watched England play at Wembley
• seen England beat the Aussies in the Ashes at Lords
• scored a goal on the pitch at Molineux
• scaled the top of the Shard (via the lift of course)
• got a new job
• ate seafood overlooking San Francisco Bay - and of course I hate seafood.

And there are a few things which I'm still chipping away at:

• learning to swim
• 9 new football league grounds left to visit
• 5 music or comedy gigs left to go

By my reckoning that's 11 things done, three started and 16 left to go. It could be a busy year!

I've met some great people along the way - and I hope there'll be more great people to meet in the next 365 days too.
Well, tomorrow morning I'm off to do something which I've never ever done before; work on my birthday. As a kid my birthday was always in the school holidays and up until now I've always booked it off. But this year I didn't really have anything better to do. Plus, I'll need to stockpile my annual leave if I'm going to achieve some of the things left on my list!
Well, my 20s - they've been interesting, and I've got 365 days left of them. So, for the final year I can feel as if this song is relevant: take it away Jamie...

#9 - "I don't like cricket...it's alright I suppose"





Lord's - the home of cricket...and lots of posh people

Cricket's a funny old game. You can play for five days and still not emerge with a winner. I can understand why the Americans have never really taken to it.

I was always under the assumption that cricket was just dull and played by posh snobs and that rugby was for the fat kids who couldn't play football. Whereas I still couldn't care less about rugby, I've learnt to appreciate cricket as the years have gone by.


Iconic. Cherie Blair's mouth. A bit harsh perhaps?

To me, 'outside leg stump' still sounds like some sort of medical condition and as for 'short fine leg', well, it sounds like a compliment. Reality is, I'll never fully understand the game - but I do actually quite like it now. That's mostly thanks to my top pal from uni, Dav Tomlinson. A Derbyshire-lad born and bred and lover of all things leather and willow (it's always the quiet ones). I've spent some cracking days over the years watching cricket with him and his wife, Hannah. But I guess to get a real feel for cricket you need to go to its spiritual home - Lords. So, at number 9 on my list, I did just that.
It was like a completely different world. If there'd been a referendum in that ground on Saturday it would have been a UKIP landslide. It really was a long way from Dudley. And for most people there I suspect the answer to practically every single question you could ask them would be 'bring back the Empire old chap'. Very weird indeed. Now as I don't know a googly from a full toss (although there were quite a lot of full tossers there on Saturday) I thought I'd invite my second guest blogger to give us a small match report.

Over to you Dav...

 

Hannah, Garv, me and Dav at silly-mid wicket point

Cricket at Lords is about as English as you can get... it’s a roast beef dinner, it’s an episode of Only Fools and Horses, it’s a James Bond film on a Bank Holiday, and most importantly of all it’s pure bliss. We arrived at the Home of Cricket with plenty of time having made a short stop at Sainsbury’s to get supplies (or Saino’s as Garv lovingly calls it). When I say supplies I mean 4 cans of beer and 2 bottles of wine – thank you MCC. It’s hard to describe Lords, try and imagine every stereotype you have about cricket, the old British Empire and old men in brightly colours clothing and you’re pretty much there. Lords has an eclectic mix of old and new. At one end you have the famous Victorian Pavilion (built in 1889 by Thomas Verity if you’re interested) and the very modern looking Media Centre (commonly known as Cherie Blair’s Mouth) at the other. The weather was good, we had cracking seats and as the clock under Old Father Time clicked over to 11 the play began...     


 

The day started with two Yorkies at the crease. We had Joe ‘yes he really is old enough to play’ Root and Tim ‘Bres-Lad’ Bresnan. England started the day’s play on 31-3 although thanks to dismissing the Aussies for a rather embarrassing 128 the day before were in real terms on 264-3. The plan would have been to bat bat bat and in doing so humiliate the Aussies and to grind them into the hard Lords dirt. Well I am pleased to report this was one of those times that the best laid plans of mice and men actually happened. England only lost one wicket before tea (Bresnan was caught out by Rogers off the bowling of James Pattinson for 38). The wicket of Bres Lad brought the in form Ian Bell to the crease. Bell is to batting what Stephen Fry is to light entertainment – he is classy, good to watch and is impossible not to like. Bell made a stunningly patient and elegant 74 before also being caught out by Chris Rogers but this time off the bowling of the truly dreadful Steve Smith. There’s a saying in cricket that ‘shit gets wickets’ and Smith proves that saying is still relevant in the test arena.

England finished the day on 333-5 which was a lead of 566 or in other words about 400 too many. As if this wasn’t good enough a new legend in the making was born. Joe Root is fast becoming a cult hero amongst England fans. He looks like that annoying little kid in year 7 who was good enough to play in the year 10 cricket side. Although he is pint sized and baby faced he bats with the authority of a cross between W.G. Grace and Sir Ian Botham. Joe Root is the most exciting thing to happen to English Cricket since Freddie Flintoff terrorised the Aussies in 2005. Root scored a quite magnificent 178 not out with an innings mixed with brilliant defensive shots and some big hitting sixes towards the end of the days play. The sound of Rooooooot echoed around Lords as time was finally called at a little after 6pm.

Off the field we enjoyed the beers and the banter a day at the test can bring. On a personal note I enjoyed seeing Garv’s face when he found out that a large Pimms he had ordered (which was a part of his round) set him back £9. My heart also goes out to the South African lad sitting in front of us who spent all day chatting up the very attractive girl he was sitting next to. He had absolutely no chance – I will go as far as to say there is more chance of seeing an Aussie turn down a free beer than that poor lad has of taking her to a second day at the Test. In all it was a day for the cricket purists but nonetheless a great experience and one I hope to repeat in the future. When talking about the days play the former Australian great Glenn McGrath said “It was a horror day for Australia” – I have waited so long to hear him say that. Do you know what, I don’t like Cricket... I LOVE IT!     

#30 - Up on the roof. I get high in London



The Shard - 72 storeys high and well worth the view.

Coming in at number 30 on my list of things to do before I'm 30 is to go to the top of western Europe's tallest building, The Shard.
With a panoramic view looking out over our capital city for more than 40 miles, it was pretty spectacular. I wanted to share this experience with a close friend who I knew would appreciate the views, the culture and the design of the latest iconic addition to London's skyline. Unfortunately they were all busy, so I went with Garv.

I'm not sure whether this is a sign of age or not, but I'm increasingly finding myself wandering past places and saying things like, 'hmm, nice architecture'. Or I'll comment on things like 'what a lovely sky tonight' and 'now that's a spectacular cloud formation'. Of course I mostly refrain from saying these things out loud - although on the odd occasion it has slipped out, it's been met with the derision it clearly deserves.

I like looking at buildings - I wouldn't say I'm fascinated by them - I'd probably struggle to pick out art-deco from mock-Tudor; but I think I'm at that stage where I can appreciate the more cultured things in life. This, I'm fairly sure, stems from my mom's influence. She's the artist, the actress and generally the creative one of the Angus clan. It's fair to say that despite being the only one of the family not to have gone to university - she's got, by far, more common sense than the rest of us put together.

She tried to pass these traits on to us when we were children but, it's fair to say, she was always facing an uphill battle from day one. She spent many an afternoon when my brothers and I were growing up trying to get us in to artistic and creative things. She must have spent hours picking Play-Doh out of our hair or cleaning up after we'd had the paints out for all of 5 minutes, wreaked havoc, then found something more interesting to do like pick our noses or go on drive-by water pistol shootings with my dad. And it must have been soul destroying for her to see us traipse in, soaking wet and covered in mud, after we cast aside creativity for football. I imagine the smug look of 'there's my boys' on my dad's face must have irked her too.

But in the end I think mom's perseverance may have just paid off. None of us can sing, act or paint - but I think we're finally beginning to appreciate culture. The boring trips to villages like Abbotsbury on our annual Easter holidays to Weymouth, where the highlight was a sticky bun in my uncle Malcolm's café, may have turned out to be worthwhile after all. The years of 'you'll appreciate this sort of thing when you're older' which I readily dismissed as 'grown-ups' being dull, begrudgingly appear to have come true.

And so I thought embracing the culture vulture inside me was a good thing to do. So I decided I'd go to the top of The Shard. It's a spectacular feat of engineering and design which, I'm sure, will stand the test of time. The sky-scraper is 72 storeys high making it the tallest building in western Europe and which has altered London's skyline forever. It dwarfs other iconic landmarks like the London Eye, Big Ben or The Gherkin. It's an interesting thing to look at. I get it - but I understand why some people aren't too keen. But regardless of the differing opinions, one thing I'm sure people will agree on is that the views from the top are spectacular. London's sprawl goes as far as the eye can see. It makes you wonder how they've crammed so many people and so many iconic landmarks into just one city.

My favourite bit? Aside from the breathtaking views over London, I had my own personal tour guide in the form of Lee Garvey who's knowledge of London is pretty damn impressive. Either that or he's made it all up and I've no way of disproving him. Plus, the lift  to the top goes at 6 metres per second - that is some speed! I'm glad I've had the chance to do it - I even genuinely enjoyed spending the time with Garv...not a sentence too many of us have uttered over the years (only kidding your Garv, you're delightful company really). There's another one on my list done...

Today's video - Up On The Roof...but a version you might not have heard before. Enjoy.

Am I watching history? - One I've missed off my list

It's 4.30pm on Sunday 7th July 2013 and I think I might be watching something momentous unfolding on Centre Court at Wimbledon.

As I type, Andy Murray is two sets up against Novak Djokovic and has broken the giant Croat's serve in the third set. Maybe, just maybe, Andy Murray is going to do what most of us thought was impossible - be British and win Wimbledon.

The nets at the 'rec' in Bradmore were similar to this
 - just a bit worse

With the weather hitting almost 30 degrees, there's something about today which is taking me back to my childhood. I'm sure it's nostalgia and a hint of rose-tinted specs, but I'm sure the summer holidays were like this for 6 long weeks when I was younger?

I'd spend hours with my mates playing tennis 'up at the rec' (those living in Wolverhampton, or at least Penn, will know where I mean.) Simon Gupta and I would spend hours at the tatty-old council-owned courts. Jasper Carrot did a great sketch once where he makes reference to bottles of warm Vimto and cracks down the middle of the court where you could lose your tennis partner - well the 'rec' was a lot like that. The nets always seemed to be going through the menopause with an unfortunate sag around middle too.

Back in those days Andre Agassi, Goran Invanisevic and Pete Sampras were the kings of Wimbledon. For some reason I always wanted to be the American, Todd Martin. Looking back I have no idea why. Must have been because he was caggy handed like me.

The only British hope we had was Jeremy Bates who I think made it into the 3rd round one year and the country went Wimbledon-mad. Until of course he lost. Then it was 'Timbo' Henman. Not quite sure why, but something about Tim never really resonated with me as a kid from Wolverhampton. Then came the Canadian, sorry, British, Greg Rusedski. I'm still not sure whether we could have classed that as a British win if he'd ever got past round 5.

Then of course came the young but dour Scot, Andy Murray. For years he's been a figure of fun - people assuming he was either never good enough or never had the bottle to succeed. Well, I guess that might be just about to change. Although, as I put the full-stop in place, Djokovic just broke Murray's serve. Is this blog too premature?

Either way, it'll be great to see Murray win Wimbledon. I only wish that I'd put Wimbledon down on my list of places to go before I was 30. I've been to Wembley, I'm off to Lords, I've already been to Silverstone, I couldn't care less about Twickenham - but I've always loved Wimbledon. Every year as a kid we'd go tennis mad for two weeks. I even missed half of the famous England vs Holland Euro '96 match because I was beating 'Guppy' at the rec.

Why didn't I put it down!! Oh well, there's still time - perhaps that'll become my number 31.

In other news, my quest to swim continues. I was up bright and early this morning, ready and raring to go for 8.30am. By 8.37 I wanted to go home. Same old frustrations, same old struggles. I think practice is the only thing I can do now and hope it clicks. Clive was in good spirits though - although he's got a blocked ear - but it's ok, he's having it syringed tomorrow.

My bid to watch 10 live gigs has also had a bit of a boost. Last week I saw Blondie (supported by the Lightening Seeds) at Cannock Chase and I've got tickets to see Beady Eye in October. I will indeed be 'top mad for it' that night.

Playing tennis at the 'rec' in the summer of '96 offers some great memories - even if this song doesn't. But it was number one for ages that summer, so here you go...

'C'mon Andy!'