Thoughts on This and That

Faced with the options of spending an afternoon watching a lacklustre Challenge Cup final, or visiting Valley Parade for some mediocre League One football, I instead decided to take advantage of the fine weather, and the fact that I live in Yorkshire, to go for a nice stroll through the countryside between Hebden Bridge and Haworth.

I’ve often said that you can’t beat a good walk, except perhaps with a strong cup of tea, but it’s something I haven’t done too much of recently. The walk was about 8 miles, took me about three hours, and was enjoyable. I learnt that my sandals aren’t really suited for walking that isn’t on the pavements of cities, and today I’ve learnt that my knee really is f*cked, but it was well worth it for the air in the lungs and the exercise.

I did take my camera to get some pictures of the route but, when I got it out to start snapping, realised it had no battery, oops but here are some pictures of the route courtesy of the Haworth Village website.

Both Haworth and Hebden Bridge are nice villages, a bit different from the norm and well worth the visit, as long as you can avoid the swarthes of tourists in Haworth getting their Bronte fix and the snooty Southern incomers that have engulfed Hebden Bridge in recent years, a couple of hours spent in such places certainly makes a nice change from the experience of identikit British city centres.

I could do without the blisters though.

During my little ponder around Europe last year the exchanging of email addresses became a common ritual, even though in 99% of cases both people knew for a fact that they’d never be used. The throwaway line “if you’re ever nearby Bradford you should let me know” was used just as much so, it was very much to my suprise when that 1% chance came about and a German girl I met in Madrid, Christa, sent me an email saying she’d be travelling from Manchester to York, an suggesting a visit to Bradford on the way!!

Now Bradford, like any other cities, has it’s problems - in terms of it’s perception to outsiders and the impression it gives the fact that the city centre is a dump is probably it’s biggest. Attempts are being made to re-generate the place but, with Leeds 9 miles away having firmly grasped renewal and regeneration a long time ago, it’s likely that we’re always going to lag behind and not punch the weight a city with a district population of half a million should.

Anyway, thats another matter, and after getting over my suprise and sorting out the details, the matter at hand was trying to give a visitor as positive impression as possible in just a few hours on a midweek evening, time constraints meant that trips to the best parts of the district like Saltaire, Haworth and the countryside were out. So I was left with suggesting a visit to the National Museum of Film Photography and Television and, of course, a curry!

As I had to work I left Christa with instructions on getting from the train station to the museum without seeing anything too bad and arranged to meet up with her when I got back to Bradford from work. It seems my plan worked well and she loved the museum (she is a media student after all) so after I picked her up it was on for the food.

One good thing about Bradford is the selection of relatively cheap places to get a decent curry, for those not knowing, Bradford has a large immigrant Asian population (mostly from the Kashmir area of Pakistan and Bangladesh) who were first needed by, and attracted to, the city to work in the mills of what was once the wool capital of the world. A welcome side effect of this influx was a number of places that opened to serve them the food they wanted to eat, and their subsequent transformation into a place anyone can go to get a decent feed.

In spite of that I do feel the standard of curry in the city centre has gone downhill in recent times, and I try to avoid most of the city centre places late on at weekends as they seem to exist simply to serve drunks any old dish, but one place that is usually reliable enough is Omars and I decided that would be a safe option for a Monday tea-time. After explaining (or trying to explain) the menu Christa opted for a vegetable korma (sh’ed never had a curry before) which I was embarassed to order but, much like the museum, she seemed to enjoy - as we left the restaurant and headed back for the train station I was feeling quite satisfied about the impression I’d managed to give of Bradford and felt suitably confident enough to show off our impressive City Hall and Centenary Square which, for once, was thankfully scally free and even had a German style beer garden as a temporary attraction, which was a fitting touch in the circumstances.

After a swift pint of Paulaner I was able to send Christa on the more obvious tourist attractions of York happy that I’d managed to give a decent impression of my hometown to an outsider and empowered with further thoughts about what women really mean when they say yes, no or maybe and why they think the three have interchangeable meanings, I also got to thinking that maybe I should be a little more positive about the city I’m from.

At the time of writing it seems that the fourth test between England and Pakistan at the Oval is off, after Pakistan’s refusal to come back onto the field of play after tea was taken as forfeiting the game by the umpires.

For those not familiar with the story, during todays afternoon session umpire Darrell Hair basically acted as judge and jury and convicted Pakistan of ball tampering, seemingly without offering any evidence or giving the Pakistan team a chance to answer the allegation. As Hair has failed to come out and say otherwise it seems he has come to this conclusion because the ball started to reverse swing a bit and looked a bit scuffed and marked, something that a 60 over old ball may well do in normal situations many might think. In view of what they perceive as a slur Pakistan decided to protest by not coming back onto the field immediately after lunch then, when they did, the umpires refused to return claiming that by not coming out on schedule they had given up the game.

I have a lot of sympathy with Pakistan here, as they were not given the opportunity to defend themselves before being penalised, and no evidence of wrong-doing has been offered, I do think they could have handled the situation better but then again, when you’ve just been accused of cheating in front of the world you are bound to be a little pissed off. Allegations of ball-tampering have been levelled at Pakistan (and others, including England in the past) and the attitude after being caught has usually been something like “it’s a fair cop” so to react like this suggests that they may have a strong case.

Making matters worse Darrell Hair has, over the years, had a number of run in’s with Pakistan, and the other Asian nations, and this will only further their claims that he has it in for them in some way. While I wouldn’t go as far as some with their opinions of the man, I can’t help a bit of mild Aussie-bashing and he’s certainly one for placing himself at the forefront of the action.

All that the farcical scenes of today have done is damaged the sport, and one only hopes that it can be sorted out overnight, though this looks unlikely. What is clear to me though is that Hair’s actions in basically calling Pakistan cheats had better be backed up with some evidence (which 26 Sky TV cameras have been unable to pick up), or he should never officiate in a cricket match again.

Well, after a 3-0 away win at Crewe we are third in the table after four games, our only dropped points being in a seemingly unlucky 1-0 defeat at Nottingham Forest, who are one of only two sides boasting a 100% record in the league.

In itself that isn’t too suprising, in years gone by it was almost a tradition for City, whatever league we were in, to get off to a great start but quickly fade away, oddly the only real exception to this was the promotion season of 1998/99 where we only won 1 out of the first 7 games but there you go.

What is suprising is the comments of people who have been watching us “we’re passing the ball really well”, “we’re playing positively, getting the ball out wide and getting at teams” and “Bradford looked a class above us and ran out easy winners” our comments I’ve heard and read tonight. This is a team managed by Colin Todd, it cannot be true, unless the guy had a personality transplant over the summer or the players are just ignoring his instructions, or nodding off during the team talk and just playing as they seem fit.

Someone needs to keep people’s feet on the ground, so I’d like to point out that half the team are on loan, and once injuries and suspensions hit we haven’t really got any players outside the 17 who are turning out at the moment but, in spite of that, I am very tempted to end my boycott of matches when we play Rotherham at Valley Parade next week, where no doubt we’ll play negatively, get beat and I’ll leave the ground swearing never to return until the manager gets the boot.

I tend to regard myself as the impatient type when it comes to other people and, as I’m contemplating doing some teaching, that probably isn’t a good thing. I’ve had a bit of practice over the last couple of days which confirms my feeling is right so where this leaves me and my future travel plans I don’t really know. What confuses me is that I’m very much in the “why do today what you can leave until tomorrow camp” when it comes to things I do, so not only am I impatient, I’m also a hypocrite.

Without going into too much detail a friend of a friend (of a friend really) teaches English to asylum seekers and immigrants, and has very kindly offered to let me sit in and help out at her classes to get a bit of experience and knowledge of what teaching English to foreigners entails. I can’t go into detail as she isn’t supposed to let anyone and everyone into the class without all sorts of declarations and clearances, so I shouldn’t be there, therefore it goes without saying that I’m thankful for the opportunity.

These people are not stupid, and the classes are voluntary, so they want to learn the language but, after two lessons, I’m really struggling to keep myself in check when a student mispronounces a simple word for the fifth time, or can’t comprehend the grammatical structure of a sentence, I want to shout, I want to bang their head against a table, anything to get it to sink in, obviously I can’t go around doing that and, unless I suddenly develop a serene air and become Mr Patient my intended career as an English teacher is unlikely to materialise.

So what next……..?

As you can see my branch (explained here) is officially dead. I did my best, but it just wasn’t to be.

Ah well, life goes on.

Well, as the cricket went down to the last day with all results possible it was only right of me to pop down to Headingley to (hopefully) watch England wrap up the series.

A nice early phone call to the office secured me the day off work, unfortunately others weren’t so lucky so I headed down to the ground alone looking forward to a nice days cricket, I bumped into John (of Treiziste Diary fame) and his missus at the gates to the Western Terrace so I didn’t have to face up to the day on my own and by the time play started the first pint was in my hand and the sun was making an attempt to shine.

The day went well and England ran out convincing winners due to some typically suicidal Pakistan batting and great bowling from Monty and Sajid Mahmood. Personally I think Mahmood is crap (not to mention Lancastrian) but for once he justified his inclusion, spurred on by taunts of “traitor” from some of the Pakistan fans on the boundary. Personally I think people should support who they want, after all sports are only games, however I’m still confused by this, Mahmood was born in Bolton, has lived there all his life and is a British passport holder playing for England, no doubt most of those abusing him were also born in England, live in England and have British passports but were supporting Pakistan, I know who I’d consider more of a “traitor” in that situation!

Luckily most Pakistan fans aren’t fuckwits and we had some good banter and conversation with those around us before they skulked off when Monty tempted Inzy down the pitch and Chris Read got the stumping. It would have been nice if the game had got a bit closer and lasted longer, but all in all, it was a win, a few pints were drunk and an entertaining day was had.

After the game I, shamefully, visited the Leeds Rugby Supporters club for more alcohol and benefitted from some free pies left over from one of the catering vans. With the Bulls now being salary cap cheats I’ll find hard to support maybe I could become a regular - “we’re Leeeeeeeds Rhinooooos, we’re Leeeeeeeeeeeeeds Rhinooos” has got a great ring to it!!

An added bonus of staying behind and having a few drinks was that I’d missed kick-off time at Valley Parade by the time I got back to Bradford. Even though it sounded like we played well and got a good win against decent opponents, not one part of me wished I’d stumped up the £20 and gone down, how long this feeling will last I don’t know!

I almost choked on my Greggs Chicken Bake when I was walking through Bradford the other night and read the newspaper billboard suggesting that our very own Lister Park was the best in Britain, so as soon as I got home I thought I had to check this story out. When I looked, to my great suprise, I found that it actually is, according to the judges of “Britain’s Best Park” Competition anyway.

My bemusement stemmed from the fact that the last time I visited the place it was a bit of a dump wrecked by litter and vandalism, though when I thought about it I realised that was probably about six years ago and, as the article states, there has been a lot of investment in the place.

So, to see if the place deserved such an accolade, the only option was for me to pay the park a visit so that’s what I did today. I had been meaning to go up to Cartwright Hall (Bradford’s civic art gallery) for the David Hockney exhibition and, as thats set in the park, it gave me the chance to kill two birds with one stone.

Anyway up I went and I was impressed with what I saw, apart from the boating lake having a bit too much litter in, the place is very nice even though I think “Best in Britain” is possibly stretching it a bit. As well as the boating lake and cage there’s a nice botanical garden, lots of leafy green space to take a picnic, some nice colourful floral displays, Cartwright Hall itself and some purpose built areas for sports and there were plenty of people making use of the place, though I didn’t bump into a drug dealer, which I thought was a feature of any visit to a British Park nowadays.

I’m a big fan of parks, and after visiting plenty on my trip round Europe last summer I don’t hold out much hope for the place in the European competition, but it’s nice to know there’s somewhere like that close at hand, especially if the weather keeps holding up well for the next couple of months, though it will never hold the place in my heart that “El Retiro” in Madrid does.

Maybe there are a few other places in Bradford I should re-acquaint myself with over the next few weeks.

Saturday sees the start of the real football season in England (forget the nonsense and hype about the Premiership, the Football League is where it’s at), and I’m looking forward to it in the same way you look forward to having a tooth pulled, or someone putting a hole through your head.

I’ve been a regular at Bradford City since 1986 and in all that time, whatever the league, whatever our prospects, the new season has always excited me, up until now that is.

I guess it’s a combination of factors really - I know I’m moving away for a bit come November for one, but we also have the blandest, dullest manager possible who plays a similar type of football and has appalling man-management skills, we have no players in the squad who can genuinely excite a crowd and, on top of this, the club is seemingly run by total incompetents, and I doubt it will be long before we are in financial meltdown again and looking at our third administration in recent years.

Add to that the ridiculous cost of watching third-tier football (£25 for our first game at Nottingham Forest this Saturday) and I just can’t motivate myself to show any interest. Which is a shame as the club has been a major, if not the major, part of my life up until now.

I’ve been going off football in general for the last few years, but never thought the malaise would spread to City, but now it has. Maybe it will only be temporary, who knows? I certainly wouldn’t totally rule out me being at the first home game at Valley Parade next Tuesday ready to hand over my £20 like the rest of the mugs but, at this moment in time, I’d say it’s unlikely to happen.

Anyway tomorrow should be a fine sporting day with a trip to Headingley for the first day of the England v Pakistan test, then a dash to Odsal to watch the Bulls play Warrington, which should be a good match. Let’s see how a day of watching decent sport affects my feelings towards the footy.

Well, we already know that we are blessed and are on a higher plain than the average man, but August 1st is Yorkshire day and gives those of us lucky enough to have been born in the Ridings a further chance to be self-satisfied and celebrate the good fortune we have been landed with.

So Happy Yorkshire day to any of my fellow Tykes reading this, and commiserations to anyone else, as everyone knows there are two kinds of people in this world, those born Yorkshiremen (and women) and those who wish they were!