Just Another Saturday Night

Cardboard city in Wolverhampton

I'm writing this latest blog in a bit of a haze. I guess that's what comes of sleep deprivation in almost sub-zero temperatures on a Saturday night in Wolverhampton.


Last night myself and a bunch of colleagues layered-up and spent the night in a cardboard box in Wolverhampton city centre to support the YMCA's 2014 Sleep Easy campaign.

According to the YMCA, nearly 9,000 young people sleep rough in the UK every night. It's a frightening statistic - especially when you think that around 80% of those are homeless through no fault of their own.

Myself, Charlie, Pauline, Cara, Olly, Jo and Brit - colleagues from Wolverhampton Homes - wanted to raise awareness of the plight of the thousands of kids who have nowhere to call home - and to help raise a few quid to help the YMCA in the Black Country, who not only provide shelter for young people, but who help give them that first step into getting off the streets and handing them back their lives.

We were each issued with a cardboard box which were to become our homes for the next twelve hours. It soon dawned on us that when your homeless, what do you do? We'd all come prepared with sleeping bags and extra layers of clothing but with only one deck of cards between us - it became obvious that the next twelve hours were going to go by exceptionally slowly. After making one game of 'chase the ace' and 'cheat' last for almost an hour, the temperature started to drop so we made the most of the shelter of the student union hallway for a cup of coffee and a bit of warmth.

It's a spacious city-centre-living, eco-friendly property 

We then joined the other 25 or so people who'd signed up to take part; mostly students, YMCA workers and volunteers; around the camp fire to hear stories from those in the group who'd actually been homeless and who the YMCA had helped to get back on their feet. Without exception, the stories were heart-wrenching. One guy, Liam, had come over to England from Northern Ireland as a teenager to be reconciled with his mom. But before long his mom abandoned him for a second time in his life leaving Liam homeless and with nowhere to go. All of the people we heard from had become homeless because of family break-ups. The laughter and camaraderie we'd felt earlier in the evening was slowly being replaced with a sense of sadness and a realisation of how fortunate we really are.

My cardboard box selfie

Come 1am, with the temperature dropping towards zero, we clambered into our boxes to try and get some sleep; a task at which most of us failed. The biting cold wind, the sirens, drunken football fans chanting and the tormenting chimes of St Peter's church bells made sleep nearly impossible. It's strange how church bells during the day go almost unnoticed - but at night, their piercing sound rings so loud with its hourly frequency (but feels like every five minutes when you're in a frozen slumber) reminding you where you are - and how slowly time can pass when all you crave is warmth and comfort.

I dozed in and out of consciousness, but the longing for rest was futile. At nearly 7am we staggered out of our boxes, looking cold, disheveled and humbled. Sleeping out for just one night really takes its toll on your body...and your mental wellbeing's not in great shape either.

Cara described it as the worst night of her life. Difficult to disagree with that sentiment. But whereas we could slope away to our cars and head to our homes and warm beds - thousands of kids aren't that lucky. The thought of having to spend another night in those conditions genuinely could make me cry. And we had a safe place to stay, hot drinks and toilet facilities on-tap. It's no wonder homeless kids often take to drugs and alcohol abuse. You'd need it just to numb out the cold, the noises, the loneliness. 

In 2014 in the UK, no-one should have to live like this.

Pauline and Cara's body language says it all.

So; cold, hungry and humbled I feel strangely satisfied that I've done my bit. I spent the night with some great people and we've helped raise a few pounds so that maybe a few kids get the chance to have the fortunate life which I know I take for granted.

If you can spare a few quid, you can donate here.

I'll be back in a week or so having hopefully completed number 26 on my list of 30 things to do...I'm off north of the border.

Let me leave you with this...

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!'

They Think It's All Over - well my playing days probably are now - #19 on my list

They Think It's All Over - well my playing days probably are now - #19 on my list

Number 19 - my childhood dream. To step out on the pitch at Molineux - and score a goal.

I spent years as a kid wondering what it would be like. Literally dreaming sometimes of pulling on the famous old gold and black of my home city and scoring the winning goal in a cup final. But, alas, my talent was never quite enough to take me to that level - but I did score a few in my time (as well missing an awful lot too!).

But today - that was all going to change.

Today - I was going to step out on the pitch, flanked by my two big brothers, Ian and Alex - to play on the pitch that I've admired for more than twenty years (apart from that one season with Glenn Hoddle when it had some sort of fungal infection).

It was nice to have Mom and Dad there too. I'm sure they were quite proud to see their boys run out on the field of play together. Dad gave up hours of his time when we growing up to coach us and our friends - and Mom, well, our washing machine took a bit of a hammering over the years - and she was rather good at selling raffle tickets at half time in the lashing rain against Oldswinford and Trysull Tigers. Although mom's still have a way of embarassing you. One memory leaps to mind. A Sunday afternoon match at Windsor playing fields and I've just launched one of my trademark hoof balls down the other end of the pitch when I hear my mom shout "Jamie, why did you do that - you're shooting the wrong way". I then had to explain that at half time you swap ends. Oh well.

As for the match - I didn't feel I could pen an accurate reflection on my performance - so instead let me hand over to my first guest blogger - Adam Shakespeare:

"At 1pm on a fine Bank Holiday Monday, twenty-two strangers (mostly) emerged from the tunnel onto the finest pitch in League 1 football. Three of those men were the Angus brothers; united to play the beautiful game as a momentous occasion and for the youngest sibling, Jamie, to fulfil number 19 on his list of 30 things to do before he’s 30; score a goal at Molineux. Just like his namesake on his shirt, Maierhoffer, it seemed Jamie was unlikely to score at first, based on the warm-up. But we shall put that down to nerves. He took his place as left-back and it was fair to say, he was a very attacking player. He was this team’s Glen Johnson. Unfortunately the opposition took an early lead, and you got the impression this bunch of strangers were not as new to each other as our home side. Once he got his momentum however, Angus Jr was making some nice moves including a bone-crunching, efficient but fair tackle to close down an attack from the away side. In fact, all Angus brothers were squaring up to be pretty good defensive players. Half time came and the afternoon heat was already taking its toll (it was doing the same to the spectators too!) When the players emerged, fresh on tactics and energy, Jamie took position further up the field as “Wing Wizard”, as he liked to called himself, and was producing some quality runs and crosses from the left wing. As one spectator commented, “he takes a good corner”, and it was true. One of which almost went into the goal, had the keeper not tipped it over the bar. However, one of the many great corners led to the goal scored by the home side. If the quality up-front had met that of the support from the team as a whole, the home side’s striker would have scored at least 3 more goals and won the match. However, there were a couple sitters that should have been buried in the net, but fatigue had set in and alas, it was not meant to be.   The final whistle blew, our home side were unlucky, and number 19 had not been achieved. However, I did hear one person say, “it’s the best game here all season”, which was actually pretty plausible. But there was one thing left to do….

Angus is running up the left wing, switches to the right, the goal is in sight….. They think it’s all over, it is now."

 

*Irritatingly I can't embed the video - but here's proof that I did eventually achieve #19 on my list.

Stamps in my passport - Number 1 on my list - New Zealand

Stamps in my passport - Number 1 on my list - New Zealand

It's been a while since I've updated my blog - but there's a good reason for that.

I eagerly await Sky's response to my planned sequel -
'A nervous middle class idiot from the Black Country goes abroad'.
I think it's a ratings winner myself.

People tell me it's been the coldest March in memory in the UK. Without sounding smug, I wouldn't know. For I have been a busy boy - on a mission to achieve five more of my 30 things to do before I'm 30.

To achieve these five milestones I've travelled more than 17,000 miles; travelled by coach, ferry, car, plane, bus and rubber ring.

I've travelled back in time; made one day last almost 48 hours; seen dolphins in the ocean; seen the world's largest squid and got scalded in a thermal spa. I've reconnected with one of my oldest friends - I've met new people from almost every continent on the globe.

I've slept in dorms with smelly strangers and I drank with green painted leprechauns. I got soaked through to my skin and I got sunburnt.

I drank with saxophone players, fled from a rock gig with the help of two guys who had, in their past set a British guy's hair on fire, and was serenaded by an obese Maori in a disability scooter.

My next few blogs will offer just a snapshot of my recent travels and my quest to broaden my horizons and experience more of what this wonderful world has to offer. They won't include everything - I couldn't bear to write, and wouldn't want to inflict upon you "and then I did this, and then I went there and the German guy on the plane said to me". Instead, these are just a few of the highlights.

It all started in Wolverhampton - the glamorous setting for all good travelling tales.

It was 7am. It was cold, drizzly and misty. There was something Lowry-like about the landscape around the new coach station. Shadowy, hunched-over figures; expressionless faces; as grey as the winter weather. But the mills and factories of the north west were instead replaced by the commuters of Wolverhampton - my home city. Making their way to another monotonous day in a drab office in Birmingham.

And me - well, I was waiting for my National Express coach to begin what would be a 40+ hour journey to complete Number 1 on my list of things to do before I hit 30: visit New Zealand.

The past six months have been some of the most difficult in my life. When I booked this adventure it was through a desperate need to escape. But here I was, in a better place, not running away anymore, but excited to be setting off on a new adventure and start a new chapter which would rip me out of my comfort zone.

Now I mentioned that my story started in Wolverhampton. It needn't have done. I live in Dudley and the second stop on my coach journey was...Dudley. I'd needlessly travelled seven miles, spent £12 on a taxi, sat and froze in a drafty coach station, got up 45 minutes too early and wasted an hour of my life which I'll never get back.

If I'd managed to mess up my journey to my neighbouring city, how on earth was I going to travel to London, fly to Los Angeles and then on to Auckland without similar itinerary cock-ups. I guess only time would tell.

But I arrived safely at Heathrow and as I sat in the departure lounge I thought about where I'd been, where I was going and what I was setting off to do. I'd never flown alone before. I'd never been outside of Europe before. I was going to miss my friends and my family. But - this was my time now; my chance to explore more of the world - and hey, if all else failed - at least I'd get a stamp in my passport for the very first time.

Coming up next time - New Zealand, hostels, glam-packing and Naylor.

But for now - as I type this at 4.00am due to my body clock failing miserably to adapt back to UK time - I'll leave you with the theme tune to the first leg of my journey. May I also add that other travel companies are available but if you are down and felling blue and with nothing better to do, don't just sit there feeling stressed, take a trip on....