Category: Experiences

From business to personal life – its full of experiences

  • Close encounter with the West Ham ICF hooligans

    Close encounter with the West Ham ICF hooligans

    A vintage-style card that says 'CONGRATULATIONS You have just met the I.C.F. (West Ham United)' in bold, black lettering.

    Over my lifetime there has always been a hooligan element at football matches. In the last 20 years that police and the clubs have largely got on top of the situation in and around the grounds to the whole atmosphere is less intimidating than when I first started going to football in the late 1960s.

    In fact, in many ways, it is my generation that was largely to blame, growing up as a teenager in the 70s, the skinheads and other cults drove the obsession with violence at football matches as I was growing up.

    So I was no stranger to that sort of match day experience and I’m sure there will be more blogs on this as I work my way back through time, but this one is slightly different.

    Back in 2004, my club, Plymouth Argyle had found their way back from obscurity into Tier 2 of English football, now called the Championship. Against many criteria, my club could be seen as one of the most under performing clubs in the country, in fact in Europe. As Plymouth is the biggest city in the whole of Europe not to have a club that has played in the top tier of their nations football leagues, just my luck to be born in Plymouth.

    West Ham United has just been relegated from the Premier League and it was one of the most anticipated fixtures of the season. Living in Bristol , it’s a 300 miles round trip to see the match, so my wife and I decided to make a weekend of it, we packed our bags and booked into a bighotel on Plymouth Hoe with our 9 month old daughter.

    They went for a nice walk along the seafront and I headed to the pub to meet my mates for a beer and head to the game. Home Park was sold out and the atmosphere was bouncing as was the away end with the West Ham fans.

    Argyle v West Ham
    Players contest the ball near the corner of the soccer field during a lively match

    I always remember the banter from the game. West Ham supporters clearly believed they should still be in the Premiership whilst the Plymouth fans were only too glad to have the a big club in their sights.

    At one point the Plymouth fans taunted their opponents with a song with the theme being “Your not famous anymore”, and the West Ham fans coming back with a song along the lines of “We won the f@@ World Cup”, a reference to the fact that the 3 key England players from the 1966 World Cup final played for West Ham, absolutely brilliant response and top bit of football crowed banter, that went on all game.

    The game itself was on a knife edge, West Ham took the lead just before half time and a local Plymouth legend Paul Wootton scored a stunning second half equaliser and the game ended in a tense 1 1 draw.

    So I headed back to the hotel to take on daddy duties with Abby, and met my wife in the hotel bar. As we sat there looking out over Plymouth Hoe, I became aware of a quite a big group of blokes coming into the bar beside us and setting down for a beer, and listening to their accents, they were obviously East London and been to the game as well.

    When it was time to head up to put the baby to bed I got up to leave the bar, it was then that the little devil voice spoke up in my head suggesting I should engage in a bit of banter and I couldn’t resist wandering past past this group of 20 blokes.

    When I got to where they were sitting, I said, “I bet you were relieved to get a point out of that game, we really had you on ropes in the second half”. A statement that had no basis in reality, as West Ham were all over us, but that is the basis all football banter,

    Up to this point, I hadn’t really had a good look at the group, I noticed that they were clearly multi generational. At the time I was about 43, and there were guys in the group at least 10 years older than me, possibly more, and plenty of them were around my age, with a few younger ones too, and they certainly had the look of people I wouldn’t want to have a ruck with. At this point I was glad to have my baby daughter in my hand for protection, so I held on tightly to her as I stood there waiting for their reply.

    I expected them to respond with a “you must be having a laugh mate”, and com e back with some insulting comments about my team, but they seemed to take my comment seriously and there was a bit of a silence when they considered the next step, as if I was actually threatening them.

    It was as if they couldn’t quite believe that I had the audacity to talk to them like that, eventually one of the older guys broke the awkward silence and asked if I would be going to the return fixture at their ground, Upton Park. Meanwhile, the rest of them remained silent whilst their leader was speaking.

    What had started out as an attempt to have a bit of a laugh with fellow football fans, took a strange turn when not only did they seem to have a group sense of humour failure, they invited me to come to their pub near the West Ham ground for the return game. Obligingly, I noted the name of the pub and promised to see them there in February. I then gave them advice on where to find the best pubs in Plymouth that night and wished them a good night out and a safe journey back to London.

    As I headed out of the bar, with absolutely no intention of ever seeing them again, the penny dropped who they were. Big group of tough looking males, no women, traveled down by train, not wearing replica shirts or colours, JESUS CHRIST, it’s them.

    I’d just walked up to the most feared hooligan gang in English football, the West Ham United Intercity Firm, and tried to have banter with people who only really want to hurt people and have no history of having a sense of humour.

    Thankfully, I had Abby in my arms, or I’d probably got my ass and plenty of other parts of my body kicked by that crew.

  • My weight loss journey 10 – Mounjaro after effects

    My weight loss journey 10 – Mounjaro after effects

    Managing Weight After Mounjaro: A Real Challenge

    See the rest of my Weight loss journey posts.

    Generally the treatment was really successful in my view, but coming off Mounjaro has to be managed; it is deeply depressing to know that something like 80% of people put their weight back on within 6 months. The son and wife of one of my mates lost 5 stone before a trip to NEw Zealand, when they came back, they put it all back on again. To make matters worse, they are quite contented that if they need to lose weight off again it will cost them about £3000, so why bother staying fit.

    I did some research around the topic and fortunately came across this podcast back in the summer. The podcast discusses the relationship between the food industry and the weight loss drugs. In summary, the problem is that many of us are addicted to food thanks to the disgraceful marketing by the food industry and now the pharmaceutical industry has found an antidote to the addiction.

    So, it is like a heroin addict being hooked on Narcan as the alternative. There are people who even think there is a conspiracy between the two industries, but it’s not worth going there. Discussing it with another mate he couldn’t understand why people just couldn’t stop eating crap, he took some convincing that he was lucky to be one of the fortunate people who weren’t susceptible, just like he is inexplicably and annoyingly much better than me at mountain biking.

    The problem with Mounjaro is that you are likely to put the weight on when you come off it, unless you really focus on changing from the eating habits that got you there in the first place.  The strange thing about the drug is that it seems to help with other addictions and habits, there is even evidence to reduces other addictions like gambling.

    Human nature being what it is, people are continuing to use the jab to keep their weight down rather than taking the chance of putting the weight back on, basically people are hooked.

    It helped me break some habits, notably I liked to have a drink in the evening while watching tv. This habit went back to when work was really stressful, I would come home, put the kids to bed and the drink was the signal to my body that it was time to relax.

    It was normally gin and tonic, but since having the jab I can’t face a gin and tonic. The other mini addiction was bacon sandwiches or rolls in the morning, for some reason, the smell and taste just doesn’t do it for me anymore. My couple of months on the jab seems to have had more benefits than just weight loss.

    I’m writing this just as the price of Mounjaro has increased 170%, apparently this is to reduce private demand so that there is enough supply for the NHS, apparently there are not enough stocks to treat the clinically obese and those with serious diabetes.

    I’m sure the makers were heartbroken about imposing this price rise, but I suspect people will still find the money or switch to the slightly less effective Wegovy, which is now a lot cheaper, particularly if they are moving on to sustaining rather than losing weight.

    I guess the major lesson from this experience is just how depressing it is that the food industry has got millions of people addicted to appalling and damaging food, yet no government on the planet is willing to stand up to them and stop it.

    Meanwhile, people are getting addicted to being thin, guaranteeing years of income to the drug companies, the whole thing is mad but here we are in the 21st Century, half the world is starving and the lucky inhabitants of the free world are taking drugs to stop us eating.

    There are lots of other suggested side effects being suggested, including muscle wastage and impact on mental health, so anyone considering it should do their research first, there is a ying and yang to everything in life.

    I’d recommend the approach for anyone who is in the privilege position to be able to enjoy it.

    See the rest of my Weight loss journey posts.

  • Ibiza Night clubs for Gen X

    Ibiza Night clubs for Gen X

    A pensioner on the loose

    Ibiza has always been a gap in my back catalogue of life, I’ve been all over the world having a great time, parties, adventures and visiting the best places, but for some reason Ibiza had passed me by and I do enjoy a gritty clubbing night out, so at this late stage in my life, it was a chance to fill the gap, so I said “great, let’s go”.

    Technically I think I’m a Baby Boomer, but what the hell !

    After the first night, we are on a roll

    Enjoying Ibiza Rocks, watching football and listening to tunes

    Next day I was amazed we were up in time for breakfast, went for a walk and by the Premier League kicked off we found ourselves in Ibiza Rocks bar, listening to an excellent DJ, watching the games and preparing for the second night. Things were rather complicated by a friend of my mate (Sue) coming over and needing to be picked up at the airport in the evening. This was a good opportunity to doze of the beer before preparing for the night out, which was one of the biggest clubs in the world, Hi Ibiza, formerly Space.

    Rod at 66 years old and ready for Hi Ibiza

    Sunday is one of their big nights, with the Glitterbox theme. We pitched up at midnight and it was only EIGHTY FIVE (85) euros to get in, Sue proved her worth at this point and scrounged some discount armbands from outside Ushuaia, so it was only 55 euros. It was only 15 euros for a water, quite a bargain really.

    So, this was it, my first visit to an Ibiza super club. The clientele was an interesting mix for sure, no youngsters as it was too expensive, people in bondage garb, and most of all, a few grey foxes like me, though more bald than grey in my case.

    Hi Ibiza Main room

    The place takes around 5500 people, and it was rammed, if one person had a cold we were all going to get it. First room was the main room, which was huge dance floor surrounded by VIP suites and balconies. Big sound system and graphics wall as you would expect, the problem was that it was so rammed there was hardly room to move let alone dance, people were moving around and bashing into the people dancing. To be honest, first impressions were that it was crap, you can’t enjoy a night club if you can’t dance and the first DJ in there didn’t help so we moved on.

    I was then informed by my chums that we were off to the Toilet room, the next dance floor. It. seemed an odd name, and we squeezed into the space that indeed looked like a toilet. It was so full that the only part of my body I could move was my head, which eventually gave me a sore neck. I then realised we were actually in a toilet.

    A Dj booth in the Toilet at Hi Ibiza

    They had put a DJ booth in the bog, while we were dancing there were people pissing and dumping in the cubicles, The DJ was brilliant and seemed to have her whole family in the booth with her mixing drinks and selling them to the people pushed against the screens, writing this up I’m beginning to wonder if the whole thing was a figment of my imagination, anyway, I went in a cubicle just to have a dump with a DJ playing 3m away for the experience.

    A bit confused, we headed for the Club room, and this was the real deal. Phenomenal sounds system, top music, people dancing everywhere and even a bit of space at the back near the fire exit for me to get going. Unexpectedly a pole dancer appeared (see video) in the middle of the dance floor and displayed amazing skills on the pole, this caused me a bit of a problem.

    As it happens my youngest daughter took up pole dancing as a hobby, so I was admiring the dancer’s amazing agility, so I did a quick video and sent it to my family. To my horror, they thought I was in a lap dancing club at 4am and I woke up to lectures and abuse from all of them the next day.

    We finished off the night back in the main room, which had thinned out and the last set was brilliant. A dance mix based on Talking Heads “Once in a Life Time” is now permanently baked into my memory of the night with more videos of dancers just to agitate my family. After that it was back to San Antonio for a pizza and in bed by 6am.

    Day 3 we didn’t make it to breakfast and much of the day was lost eating and enjoying the sun because a storm was being forecast for that night. The clouds came in and it got a bit muggy, but at midnight we headed out to the West End again for some predrinks before heading to Eden that night.

    Floods in West End San Antonio

    At about 1230, there were spots of rain, after 5 minutes it was time to take our drinks inside, and after 45 minutes the main drag was a torrent of water, the deluge was unbelievable. After an hour there was enough water coming down the street to use a body board. We had been in tropical storms in Costa Rica only 8 weeks ago and now the weather god had tracked me down in Ibiza. By the time we splashed out way to Eden, the streets were 2 inches deep in water and we were soaked through to the skin.

    This was our 3rd night, and my body clock was adjusting and ready to go at 2am. Unfortunately, the storm had put the dampers on things, but we were undeterred and headed into Eden, which was probably less than half full and everyone was soaked. If it hadn’t been for the circumstances, I think this would have been my favourite club, a bit grungier and full of people wanting to dance rather than just “be there”.

    Storm over Ibiza Town on 29th Sep

    My commentary on Eden is a bit brief mainly because I can’t remember much about what happened, other than dancing and thinking the water was cheap at 10 euros a bottle and the disappointment that the pizza shack was closed when we left, or maybe it was just washed away and another 5am night under the belt.

    Ibiza Civil Emergency message in English !

    Next morning didn’t really exist and we missed another breakfast, and again I woke up to more WhatsApp messages, this time checking I was alive, turns out the storms on the island were all over the UK news, especially in Ibiza Town. God looks after drunks I always say. I even had a civil emergency warning on my phone which wasn’t easy to process as my grip on reality was weakening.

    Research into the options on Ibiza for oldies had highlighted the legendary Pikes as the place to go. So, we kept this one for our last night and it was great fun, the Wham video of Club Tropicana was filmed here, it was Freddie Mercury’s holiday retreat, and the owner Tony Pike was at the centre of the Ibiza phenomenon.

    It was a relief to be able to go somewhere that opened before midnight, so a few predrinks, then we picked up Sue and off we went for a 10pm start. We needed an early night as we were flying home the next day.

     Pikes House Rules

    When we arrived, we were confronted by the house rules, which seemed very appropriate and contributed to an excellent night. My daughter in law expressed her surprise that I was allowed in with these rules !

    The whole place was really quirky and cool, though the swimming pool was a bit tempting for an adventurous spirit like mine but they soon moved us inside after 11 so the residents of the hotel could sleep I guess.

     Unbelievably, there was no entry fee on the door, and the drinks were less than 10 euros, so I drank beer instead of water for the night. The music was amazing and a dark and sweaty dance floor as well. When it got to 2.30am with no sign of letting up, we decided to call it a day, it was now or it would be 5am again before we knew it, so I grabbed a naughty photo of the garden on the way out !

    The amazing things was that we didn’t seem to have hang overs as our body clocks had adjusted, though once we got home the Ibiza flu kicked in we’ve all been feeling crap since, but we will get over it and only have the memories of a great few days.

    I’ve also discovered I’m proudly hedonistic – so on to the next pleasure, but not before arriving home with horrendous colds/flu symptoms and spending a week in recovery.

    It’s almost as if I am too old for this stuff – nah.

  • Weight loss journey 9  – Mounjaro, the short cut to weight lose

    Weight loss journey 9 – Mounjaro, the short cut to weight lose

    Mounjaro, me and food addition.

    Would I recommend Mounjaro– yes most definitely, it is changing people’s lives for the better, but it comes at a cost.

    See the rest of my Weight loss journey posts.

    For 8 years I’ve been largely on top of my weight, the scales would sneak back up slowly but I’d find a reason to kick in my tried and trusted method to reduce it again. There was always some target to focus on, like a 100 mile bike ride, or climbing the Inca Trail, or a weekend mountain biking, whatever it was, I’d find a reason to kick in the calorie counting and down my weight would come.

    If you haven’t seen my other articles on weight loss and my journey, you can find them here.

    6 months ago, I noticed the weight creeping back to an unacceptable level, but for the first time I couldn’t find the motivation to deal with it. I was living a happy life, gym and sport every day, but that weight was creeping on because my appetite seemed to be getting bigger all the time.

    First, I passed through the 15 stone barrier, it was a mental upper limit for the last 8 years that normally caused me to react, but I didn’t.  It was only when it reached 15st 4lb that I knew I had to do something because I was heading towards 16st fast, but why, I felt good and was living my best life.

    My wife was the same, she had a method for losing weight with the Alavera clinic, but her cycle was different. She would lose 2 to 3 stone in a clinically controlled way, but it would always go back on. So, we were both on the upward weight cycle and both struggling for motivation, none of the adventures we had planned required much extra fitness, so why bother?

    Then we bumped into a friend in a bar, and I was totally stunned by the amount of weight she had lost, she was a totally different person, about a half the size version of the one we had seen a year earlier. After a bit of chatting she let us in on her diet secret, she was using the fat jab (in secret from her husband I hasten to add). I’d never heard of anyone using it, but it transpired we were probably the only ones left in the world that weren’t aware of it, we thought it was something only very obese people had access to on the NHS.

    So, I did some investigation and was surprised how cheap the Mounjaro jab was. In fact, the monthly outlay was far less than what we had previously paid for the weight loss clinic, so in some ways it was a bargain at £200 per month and the promised weight loss was huge. Knowing my wife can be a bit slow to embrace opportunities I offered to go first and try it out and see what was involved.

    Next day I was logged into the Numan website starting the process. First problem was I wasn’t 30 BMI, but not far off, so I calculated the weight I needed to be and uploaded the data and I moved on to the next stage, which involved a photo of me to prove I was fat, so I took a few photos of me breathing out in a baggy t shirt, and without much bother, I was through the medical stage and the medicine was on the way.

    By this point, I was fully fired up on my weight loss mission. The sooner I got this weight off the sooner I would be off the medication; I wasn’t keen on the whole jabbing idea. I was straight into the calorie counting and my exercise was focused moved to calorie burning, I had lost 3 lb by the time the package dropped through the letter box a week later.

    The first week of the dosage took me back under 15st, my first milestone achieved. It was difficult to know if the drug was having an effect or whether it was placebo. I had also started above my normal weight, so I had pounds to lose.

    The second week we had a bit of a hiccup, I overdosed.  I used the jab and was a bit confused why the syringe had not gone right down, the syringe goes down about 20% each week and leaves a drop in the bottom. I tried 3 times to apply it, on the assumption that it wasn’t working, I reported the matter to Numan.

    When they saw a photo of the syringe, they pointed out that I had used it up all up in one go.

    If it was placebo before it certainly wasn’t over the next 5 days, I felt nauseous, floaters in front of my eyes and certainly no appetite, in fact I had to force myself to eat in the end. However, it did have some even better side effects as I lost another 4lb, so I was down 7lb in 2 weeks.

    As I had proved my incompetence to Numan, they sent me another month’s worth of the minimum dose. To be fair, the support from them was really good. You get a coach to help with advice on food and lifestyle, and a clinical team for issues with the syringe and dosage.  For the coach I was sorted with my approach, but it was good to have an online chat about different strategies and options.

    I mentioned the jab to a few friends and their reactions were really interesting. I suspect a lot of people are embarrassed about using the jab, but the reality is that it is just another way to diet, so I wasn’t embarrassed at all. It was no more embarrassing than Weight Watchers or Man v Fat, you just want to get the weight off as soon as you can because it is making you sad and it isn’t good for you to be fat.

    3 friends signed up to the treatment, which was excellent as we both got price reductions on our next batches, I almost became a dealer I was referring so many people. Most people started off inquisitive about the side effects and impact, and most of all the size of the needle!

    From a personal perspective, the change wasn’t that noticeable because I was just getting back down to my normal weight which I had been 6 months earlier. I finished off after 3 months of “treatment”, my dose only reached 5mg (the max is 15mg), which is normally the second month. By that time, I had lost 16lb in weight in 3 months, so I hadn’t had time to become too dependent on the drug and in the hottest summer for 50 years, I didn’t put any weight back on.

    So all round a very successful experience, however there are side effects that you should be aware of and need to be managed that I cover in the next article

  • San Antonio bars for a Gen X

    San Antonio bars for a Gen X

    Lets get the party started in San Antonio

    Is 66 too old to go clubbing in Ibiza, so technically I’m a Baby Boomers. This was the first question I asked myself after my mate “The Mechanic” announced he had bought us a short break in Ibiza, as a “thank you” for helping him out. I was also overwhelmed because no one buys me anything much anymore

    Ibiza has always been a gap in my back catalogue of life, I’ve been all over the world having a great time, parties, adventures and visiting the best places, but for some reason Ibiza had passed me by and I do enjoy a gritty clubbing night out, so at this late stage in my life, it was a chance to fill the gap, so I said “great, let’s go”.

    I did a bit of research and over 40s and 50s seemed to be enjoying it over there, so why not. I had been late into the dance music scene 35 years ago, so had always been one of the oldest in a venue, or “the oldest swinger in town” as my wife puts it and I’m not particularly self conscious.

    View of Eden from our bedroom balcony - bring it on

    The thing I try to remember is that I’m a guest in the young people’s world, so it is important to respect them having a good time and get into the spirit of the event, only speak to them if they speak to me, don’t oggle, and don’t be a twat or be one of them. Keep a smile on your face and get into the party mood and nobody has ever troubled me up until now.

    First challenge was the flight out from Bristol. there were clearly 3 distinct groups heading to Ibiza. Firstly, there were the young ones in their teens or early 20s on their lads or lasses’ holiday and making a lot of noise. The second group were stag and hen weekenders to celebrate something, often with two generations of family involved and they made even more noise getting on the flight, the final group were the grandparents heading to their all-inclusive and full English breakfast holidays. The Mechanic and I tried not to be associated with any group and listened to music looking cool.

    The EasyJet steward was French and less than cool, lacked any sense of humour after no doubts a long week and then drawing the Saturday night Ibiza Express shift. As soon as the door shut, he was up on the microphone giving everyone a lecture and warning us that if anyone made any more noise, we would not be going anywhere.

    At this point a Welsh hen group told him to cheer up and started singing, in response he threatened to turn the plane around (we had only gone about 25m) if there was anymore lip. So, we headed to Ibiza in a plane full of drunk people who did a lot of sniggering and giggling, mostly uncontrolled, that reached a crescendo after the drinks trolley tour and the alcohol levels had been topped up, we came into land.

    66 year old having a night out in West End - bit nervous of all the young people but I'm not sure tghey can actually see us.

    We arrived in Ibiza and made our way to the hotel in San Antonio by midnight. The hotel lobby was full of young people around the age of my youngest lad; he would have been quite at home sitting in reception at midnight staring at his phone as well. So, we quickly unpacked, plugged in my speaker, cranked up the music, opened the duty free and went out on the balcony to see the sights and sounds of San Antonio, including a view of the Eden night club which was next door.

    The hotel balconies were full of party goers, so no chance of an early night.

    After a quick scrub up we headed to the West End strip (there are a few strips around apparently), a street of bars that seemed to be in place for one purpose, debauchery and fun, not to mention drugs that were on sale on every corner. It had just about every type of entertainment on offer so we settled for an Irish bar as a safe haven to get our bearings and enjoy the fun atmosphere.

    To be honest, we were amongst the oldest party goers in town, but it didn’t seem to matter as the party rolled on. We ended up in the Saona bar opposite the Irish Bar (we didn’t have to wander far) with probably the most bonkers DJ I have ever seen, not to mention his mate the Italian answer Eminem who looked a lot better than his singing but it all added up to a great night.

    The night drew to a close around 4am and we headed home but not without a bizarre incident. As we headed out of the strip, I was accosted by a woman of the night offering a range of services that I didn’t need, whilst groping around my person. I politely declined her offers and wandered on. 60 seconds later she tapped me on the shoulder and gave me my wallet and ran off.

    As you can imagine, I was a bit confused and hugely grateful for her honesty. I assumed she had found it on the floor, so I ran after her to say thank you and to give her some cash as a gift. When I tapped her on the shoulder and said thank you, she looked very confused as well, it was at that point I opened the wallet and found she had already taken a “thank you” in the form of all my cash. However, I still had my cards and driving licence so wandered off happy and 10 euros poorer.

    Enjoying Ibiza Rocks, watching football and listening to tunes

    Next day I was amazed we were up in time for breakfast and ready to go after the night before.