Going in to London this week for a meeting, something occurred to me as I sat on the on Waterloo and City line, a unique branch of the world’s oldest underground train network. The Waterloo and City line underground line is (un)affectionately known as the “drain” – unique because it has no stops between just two termini, from Waterloo Station to Bank Station in the heart of London’s financial district called ‘The City of London’ – a square mile and one of the richest patches of land on our planet.
Whilst I will refrain from wishing everyone another Happy 12 months ahead… but I cannot proceed without thanking everyone who responded to my first blog of the year. A departure for me in subject and one fraught with peril.
There is only one way to begin this post, so here goes; a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR and NEW DECADE to you all! There is definitely a cut off for such cursory wishes. Not an official date but just a feeling that we all seem to discern at roughly the same time; perhaps when we reason that this year is much like the last. I hope then that this post and my well-wishes has arrived in time?
With Tom and Harry home from Cleveland and the Holland’s back to full strength, a recent evening was a simple affair and yet one for my fatherhood diary. Not that it will endure for very long, I suspect. Not if first steps, words or even my boys births are anything to go by as my advancing years wreaks havoc with my memory. And not such a momentous night anyway. Not a meal out for us all to a favourite eatery or a trip to the theatre. It wasn’t even all of us; just Tom, Harry, Sam and I and down to our local pub for a few beers.
Practise makes perfect – or so the adage goes.
‘Perfect’ being relative of course and depending on myriad factors including ability and talents. The awkward upshot of this being that some people’s ‘perfect’ is better than others. More perfect, I suppose. Which is awkward but a fact of life and why we venerate certain people and not everyone.Golf is a useful way to contextualise this. The hardest game of all – and famously associated with a quote…“the harder I practise, the luckier I get.”
Rare for me to write a second blog of the week but when something so momentous occurs…
This week, almost on a whim, Sam and I sat down and finally knocked off our first podcast. Just us two, rambling on about our year past – typically interrupted by Nikki (twice) crashing in to the room she has every right to crash in to, and so my reaction was probably misplaced and then another interruption but this time very welcome when Tom happened to FaceTime from the States – not to speak with me but because he wanted to see Tessa. Charming.
A poignant week for me just gone with my youngest celebrating his 15th birthday. Blimey and who knew? Nothing particularly revelatory at how Paddy’s life has flashed by – which of course applies to my life also (and yours) and perhaps then time to reflect and take stock on all things in my life.
I am a little late to this and I am conscious that many readers of this blog might not be aware of Clive James, the writer and broadcaster who died very recently – but I am happy anyway to add my tribute and memories of a great man.
How many stars are really out there? Impossible to count, of course. Even when referring to showbiz stars and not the infinite celestial variety. Millions of us will take a crack at stardom and in all manner of pursuits; acting, comedy,
Many readers of this blog might not be aware that in the UK, we are about to have a General Election – and on this subject, my phone lit up this week with messages and alerts to the news that Tom Holland has officially entered the fray.










