She awoke with a feeling of anxiety. This morning was not going to be easy. She lay in bed and allowed her thoughts to drift back to a conversation at her parent's house the evening before.
"I'll pick you up at 8 in the morning" said Ciara
Her mother sighed. "The flight's not until 10.30 you know".
"Yes, mum, I know but it's the morning rush hour and the motorway can be a nightmare"
"Look, Ciara, you can be here at 8 if you want but we won't be leaving until 9", her mother replied
Ciara's father took her to one side and spoke quietly into her ear. "She's having one of her bad days, love. Maybe I can persuade her to be ready for 8.30 if you can get here for then"
Ciara nodded discretely and reluctantly agreed. "Half 8 it is then".
She looked again at the clock. 06.55. Her agenda for the next few hours included driving her husband to work, then taking her elderly parents to the airport in time to catch a flight to Cork. She quickly showered, dressed, then gulped a few mouthfuls of coffee. Breakfast was going to have to wait today. She opened the front door and walked briskly down the front path into a cool September morning. Her husband locked the door behind them and joined her in the car.
"I'm not looking forward to this at all, Andrew", said Ciara
"Just take a few deep breaths and take your time" replied her husband of 7 years
"Lack of time IS the problem today, though",
He shook his head and gave her a knowing look.
They reached his workplace with few further words spoken. He brushed back her long, black hair and gently kissed her cheek.
"I'll see you later, darling"
"Yeh, see you later", she replied disconsolately
She checked the clock on the dashboard. 08.04. She headed straight for her parent's house.Upon arrival at 8.20, for the second time that day, a strange, unexplained feeling of foreboding overwhelmed her. She quelled her emotions, composed herself, and knocked on the door. Her stressed looking father opened the door and she stepped inside. "Sorry, love, we're not quite ready yet"
As she entered the front room, she sensed a frosty atmosphere. Her parents had clearly had an altercation with the aftermath now delaying her proposed departure time.
The following half hour passed in a frenzy of last minute packing and short, sharp exchanges of words.
Despite Ciara's best efforts, they departed the house at 0900 as her mother had intended. With ideal traffic conditions, it was a 20 minute drive to the airport. This particular morning, however, conditions were far from ideal. They reached the motorway at 09.15 and joined a long tailback of traffic. The flight departure time was now only 75 minutes away. Ciara seethed for a few moments then could no longer contain her frustration.
"This is exactly why we should have left at 8!", she exclaimed. Her parents sat in silence.
Ciara maneuvered the car from lane to lane, to gain a few hundred yards, then gradually picked up speed as the vehicles started moving again.
"It looks like we're going to miss the flight" said her agitated mother.
"I'll get you on that bloody flight if it's the last thing I do!", she retorted.
They arrived at the airport at 09.45. She ignored all the parking restrictions and abandoned the car as close to the flight departures entrance as she could. She grabbed 2 items of her parent's luggage and ran with them, shouting behind her for them to follow her. As they reached the departure area, she looked around again and a warden was already looking at her car. "Oh for God's sake", she muttered under her breath. Without ceremony, she shouted "See you in 2 weeks!", to her bewildered parents as she ran back to the car. She explained her predicament to the warden, who reluctantly, and not without warning, accepted it. As she drove off, she had no idea whether her parents would make the flight or not. At this point on this day, she couldn't care less. She had important errands to run and had to be in work for 1pm.
She arrived back home around 10.30, made a cup of coffee, buttered 2 slices of toast, then tried to settle her nerves. She made a short shopping list, then finished her refreshment. Her next destination was the local town. As she walked down the hallway, she paused momentarily to brush her hair in the mirror. "Oh Ciara, pull yourself together. You look worse than you feel", she said to her reflection.
As she walked along the high street, her mind was still in a state of flux. She just couldn't understand why she was so wound up today. It wasn't the first time in her life her mother had been difficult and traffic problems in this city were the norm. There was just something different in the air today. She paused momentarily outside a well known store. She hadn't planned on going in there but, for reasons unknown to her, felt compelled to enter. She browsed the shelves, then as she was leaving without purchasing anything, she glanced across to the payment counter. A tall, dark haired, square shouldered man stood with his back to her. He was speaking to the assistant in a barely audible, but remarkably, distinctive and recognisable voice. She stopped in her tracks. Her heart started to palpitate. Her palms were sweating and her spine tingled. "Is that who I think it might be", she thought to herself. She was rooted to the spot as he slowly turned around. Suddenly, his familiar piercing blue eyes met with hers as they stood facing each other only yards away. In unison they both exclaimed, "OH MY GOD!"....
"Joe, is that really you?!"
"You look really well, Ciara", said Joe
"Ha ha, you should see me on a good day then"
A broad smile crossed his face
"Let's go outside and chat for a minute, I'm on a flight to Barcelona in 3 hours, though, so I haven't got long", said Joe
"Oh, I'm due in work shortly anyway."
"Are you still with Andrew?"
"Yes, we finally got married ,7 years ago now"
"That's grand news, I'm in a new-ish relationship now. Her name's Fiona, that's who I'm flying off to Barcelona with today"
"Listen, Joe, I'm really sorry with happened with Lucy...."
"No,
No", Joe interrupted her. "That was 15 years ago now, Ciara. It
wasn't meant to be in the end. It's all in the past. I've moved on."
"I heard you'd had a daughter together, though?"
"Yes, her name's Tara. She's beautiful. She lives with her mam now though"
Ciara
was hanging on his every word . Hearing him say "mam" again reminded
her of his roots. Joe left Ireland with his family aged 10, but traces
of his Donegal accent still shone through. Ciara's own family had Irish
roots and they had swapped many similar stories of their upbringing
when they were at college together.
"Listen, Ciara, I
really do have to go now but here's my mobile number. Text me and I'll
get in touch when I'm back from Barca" He warmly embraced her then
walked away briskly and was gone. She stood where he left her for a few
moments trying to absorb what had just happened. On numerous occasions
over the years she had practiced what she would say if ever she saw him
again, but she never envisaged this scenario. She rushed around the
shops for her provisions and then returned home. It was now 12.15. She
quickly changed into her office clothes and was soon back on the road to
her place of work. She had studied chemistry at college with Joe but
in all the madness of the last few hours had neglected to ask him how he
was employed now during those precious few moments when their worlds
collided again.
She arrived at work slightly late.
There was some gentle teasing from her colleagues regarding her
tardiness which she responded to with "Don't even get me started on the
morning I've had!" Her mind was not on the job this afternoon. Part of
her brain space was taken up with her parent's late arrival for their
flight, the rest of it was taken with the 5 minutes spent with Joe and
what he had told her. She never previously knew his daughter's name,
Tara. She was genuinely happy for him that he appeared to have found a
new love. She always knew her erstwhile friend, Lucy, was not meant for
him.
As she thought back to those college days again
and just how much she was in love with Joe at the time, a colleague
suddenly shouted across the office. "F****** Hell ! Have you heard
this?!". Their music radio station of choice had been interrupted with
some extraordinary breaking news. Her colleague shouted her over to
him. As Ciara chastised him for his profanity, he shouted over the top
of her. "They were reporting on a plane crashing into the side of the
World Trade Center in New York when another plane crashed into the other
tower ! They'll have the TV on in the canteen, let's go and have a
look what's going on". Ciara followed him into the crowded canteen and
watched the unfolding events from the United States with her colleagues.
They
were reporting more planes had been hijacked but currently couldn't
locate them. They weren't even sure at this stage if planes in other
countries had also been targeted. This, on a day when both her parents
and a former love were all on flights, left her cold. The rest of the
afternoon passed with very little work done in Ciara's office. A
general feeling of doomsday had taken hold of proceedings. As the
towers collapsed and the other tragedies of the day unfolded, a feeling
of great sadness enveloped her. She couldn't wait to be home and in the
arms of her loving husband.
Ciara and Andrew spent the
evening, like most of the rest of the world that day, glued to the TV.
The human death toll was mounting and by late in the evening, it was
apparent that in one way or another, the world would never be the same
again. Footage of the towers' collapse was replayed over and over
again. In Ciara's world, the symbolism of this day was not yet
apparent. Her thoughts eventually turned to Joe again. She opened her
bag and found the phone number he had given her. Now was not the time
to decide what to do with it.
The feelings she had for
him were 15 years ago, many years before she had even met Andrew. The
actions she had taken back then had catastrophic consequences on those
around her at the time but her reaction to seeing him today had shocked
her to the core. For a fleeting moment those dormant feelings had
stirred once more. The battles between her head and her heart was a war
yet to be won.
She would make her own decisions in her own time.
Thursday 28 February 2013
Friday 22 February 2013
Frozen Thoughts
Memories of childhood frozen in time
An eastern wasteland now riddled with crime
This inner city district never lacked soul
Now vanished through time into a deep hole
I wish it was like when I was young
Remembering faces, still hearing songs sung
Thriving shops and characters on the vale
Deserted now with cheap houses for sale
Landlords exploiting new arrivals plight
My once streets of play gone, nothing seems right
Sinister figures in shadows selling their wares
Watchful and guarded, even dogs walk in pairs
Be gentle with cherished childhood thoughts of play
Frozen memories could thaw and melt away
Rose tinted worlds should never be explored
A boat to be cared for, but always moored
An eastern wasteland now riddled with crime
This inner city district never lacked soul
Now vanished through time into a deep hole
I wish it was like when I was young
Remembering faces, still hearing songs sung
Thriving shops and characters on the vale
Deserted now with cheap houses for sale
Landlords exploiting new arrivals plight
My once streets of play gone, nothing seems right
Sinister figures in shadows selling their wares
Watchful and guarded, even dogs walk in pairs
Be gentle with cherished childhood thoughts of play
Frozen memories could thaw and melt away
Rose tinted worlds should never be explored
A boat to be cared for, but always moored
Monday 18 February 2013
Lady of The Lakes
Like a heaven sent angel she arrived in his life
With a wounded heart his troubles were rife
Sinking in a sea of anguish far from dry land
She steered him to safety with a guiding hand
Who was this woman from the Cumbrian hills?
Embroiled in her own battle of wills
A good listener, vivacious and pretty
An infectious laugh, intelligent and witty
Their selfless friendship blossomed and grew
A strong mutual respect found in few
A painful vacuum filled with time spent together
Walking and talking, whatever the weather
Their platonic bond like a gift from above
Fate played it's hand and she found new love
His brittle heart healed, love returned to him once more
Once trapped in a room of sorrow, he now found the door
Circumstantial changes and they parted ways
No longer as close as they found better days
Her life-changing role in his life forever set
Their destiny fulfilled on the day they met
With a wounded heart his troubles were rife
Sinking in a sea of anguish far from dry land
She steered him to safety with a guiding hand
Who was this woman from the Cumbrian hills?
Embroiled in her own battle of wills
A good listener, vivacious and pretty
An infectious laugh, intelligent and witty
Their selfless friendship blossomed and grew
A strong mutual respect found in few
A painful vacuum filled with time spent together
Walking and talking, whatever the weather
Their platonic bond like a gift from above
Fate played it's hand and she found new love
His brittle heart healed, love returned to him once more
Once trapped in a room of sorrow, he now found the door
Circumstantial changes and they parted ways
No longer as close as they found better days
Her life-changing role in his life forever set
Their destiny fulfilled on the day they met
Tuesday 5 February 2013
A Big Thank You!
I wish to thank anyone and everyone who has read posts from my blog so far (just type "Chris Neilson Blog" into Google and a plethora of ridiculousness will appear, depending what mood the Google search is in) I always try and make my posts as varied as possible, be it poetry, stories of old or my sideways look at the world. I don't necessarily aim to provoke emotion but if you have experienced laughter or re-ignited happy memories from even just one line of my writing over the last 3 years then it makes it all worth while. I seem to have an endless stream of memories and thoughts that I feel I need to share with the world so thanks also for your patience and interest. Anyway, we live in a rapidly changing world but the things that mean the most to us usually remain the same. Never lose hope for a more peaceful world. I wish you all a joyful Christmas whatever you do and please try and spare a though for those less fortunate than ourselves. I've been Chris Neilson, making angels sing from summer to spring. God bless..or for the atheists, good luck..and for the agnostics, who knows? Good night
DJ Dave Ward
When I was 16 I had a brief flirtation with a girl from school at a house party (not my house). This girl was vivacious and popular. When trying to talk to her a few days later (thinking she was probably now smitten with me) she ignored me. I felt humiliated.
My last school year coincided with a very popular local late night radio show presented by a local DJ called Dave Ward. For a while everyone in my year at school seemed to listen to it and it was a regular topic of conversation in class. "Wardy" had a regular feature called "Under The Bed Clothes" where listeners could write in (this was 1983), profess their love for someone and ask Wardy to play a suitable song. Also at this time there was a lad in some of my classes who used to piss me of.. Let's call him Derek. At this point I have to confess I did something which I am not proud of, but I was 16 and very immature. I decided to write a letter to Wardy as if it had been written by Derek professing his love for the girl who had spurned me, including that he would be interested in getting "Under The Bed Clothes" with her. I posted the letter, then didn't think much more about it. Around a week later I tuned in as usual to Wardy's show and listened to it in bed. I always liked the Under The Bed Clothes feature so when it came on this night I was as attentive as ever. He announced "tonight listeners we have a letter from Derek". I nearly fell out of bed!
My heart was pounding and my head was spinning. I thought "for the love of God what have I done?!" He went on to read my letter word for word from start to finish. You were always supposed to end the letter with "I would like to cuddle" ,whoever your love interest was, to the song of your choice. However, I changed the word "cuddle" to "fondle" for a laugh and he even read that out! I wasn't even smart enough to change their names. What a complete dimwit.
Anyway, I didn't sleep very well that night and went to school the next day with some trepidation. Sure enough, dozens of people had heard it and were giving Derek all kinds of grief. He hadn't heard it and was bewildered. Overnight I had thought through how I could remedy the situation so I immediately put my emergency plan into place. I leapt to Derek's defence and told everyone it was me who had wrote the letter and I was very apologetic for any distress I had caused(or words to that effect). After the dust settled, Derek even started to see the humour in it but the girl never spoke to me again.
For the record I am really grown up and very mature now....
My last school year coincided with a very popular local late night radio show presented by a local DJ called Dave Ward. For a while everyone in my year at school seemed to listen to it and it was a regular topic of conversation in class. "Wardy" had a regular feature called "Under The Bed Clothes" where listeners could write in (this was 1983), profess their love for someone and ask Wardy to play a suitable song. Also at this time there was a lad in some of my classes who used to piss me of.. Let's call him Derek. At this point I have to confess I did something which I am not proud of, but I was 16 and very immature. I decided to write a letter to Wardy as if it had been written by Derek professing his love for the girl who had spurned me, including that he would be interested in getting "Under The Bed Clothes" with her. I posted the letter, then didn't think much more about it. Around a week later I tuned in as usual to Wardy's show and listened to it in bed. I always liked the Under The Bed Clothes feature so when it came on this night I was as attentive as ever. He announced "tonight listeners we have a letter from Derek". I nearly fell out of bed!
My heart was pounding and my head was spinning. I thought "for the love of God what have I done?!" He went on to read my letter word for word from start to finish. You were always supposed to end the letter with "I would like to cuddle" ,whoever your love interest was, to the song of your choice. However, I changed the word "cuddle" to "fondle" for a laugh and he even read that out! I wasn't even smart enough to change their names. What a complete dimwit.
Anyway, I didn't sleep very well that night and went to school the next day with some trepidation. Sure enough, dozens of people had heard it and were giving Derek all kinds of grief. He hadn't heard it and was bewildered. Overnight I had thought through how I could remedy the situation so I immediately put my emergency plan into place. I leapt to Derek's defence and told everyone it was me who had wrote the letter and I was very apologetic for any distress I had caused(or words to that effect). After the dust settled, Derek even started to see the humour in it but the girl never spoke to me again.
For the record I am really grown up and very mature now....
Sunday 3 February 2013
Lee's Lidkoping Fortune
I first met Lee Fortune back in 1989. This was at the telecommunications company based in Cheetham Hill where I met Connie, my long suffering wife. had been with the company just under 3 years when Lee appeared on the scene. The company had grown rapidly since I joined them in 1986. This resulted in an influx of new employees. I had moved on from warehouse work and was now employed in "customer service" along with my erstwhile colleague Julie Thompson. Basically, "customer service" meant dealing with customers to whom we had supplied faulty goods. As I had developed my "blarney" by this time, this was a role to which I was suited. One of the new employees worked in the warehouse so one day I was introduced to the skinny, long haired lad who had just started. His hair was "crimped" and dyed red. Now, don't misunderstand me, I was the master of mullets at the time and was into rock music etc, but his appearance even startled me. He said "Hiya mate, I'm Lee. Lee Fortune".
When I heard his full name I matched this with his appearance and thought this was some kind of stage name. I mean "Lee Fortune", come on do me a favour. It's true, though, Fortune is his real surname. Anyway, over the next few months I got to know Lee quite well and he fully integrated himself into the company. One early chat I had with him was about music and he was telling me that he had gone to see the filming of a live music show called The Tube (presented by Jools Holland and Paula Yates) around a couple of years earlier. It was a "Heavy Metal Special" and Ozzy Osbourne was the headline act. He said he got on camera at least once. I couldn't believe it as I had recorded this show on tape at the time and still had it. I went home that night and watched it again and sure enough there was Lee on camera as someone was being interviewed alongside him. I was impressed.
There was always great banter among my colleagues. We were all of a similar age and of similar interests, mainly drinking and winding each other up. However, one day I had a major sense of humour failure and was being wound up by the warehouse lads, including Lee. Connie (bless her) got involved as she was passing and started giving some stick back to them on my behalf. She then disappeared back into her office. I went back to my desk. Within minutes 3 or 4 of the lads (including Lee) grabbed hold of me and dragged me kicking and shouting to a huge box of shredding in the warehouse area. I was thrown into it, then all kinds of crap was thrown in on top of me. I eventually got out to be taunted about my "bird" fighting my battles for me. Connie ended up leaving this company several months later then I followed around 3 months after that.
Fast forward 10 years and I was now working for a different telecoms company and had completely lost touch with Lee. I then saw him once at a Manchester City home game via mutual friends. I only spoke to him briefly, but he told me he didn't stay at our old company much longer after I left and he had been all over the world for various reasons. e left it at that then in 2001 I bumped into him again at a mutual friend's wedding. This time we had a proper catch up and he told me he was in work but was looking for something better paid. At the same time as this my company were recruiting more staff so I gave him my number and told him to ring me. I mentioned this to my boss and within weeks Lee came in for an interview. This was very strange for me as I was jointly doing the interviewing. I pulled a few strings and within a few weeks Lee had rejoined me in the same employment but with a different company 12 years on from when we were last colleagues.
Just as fate put Lee and I back in touch we simultaneously went through our own individual troubled times in our personal lives. We became really good mates and leant on each other for support over the next 2 or 3 years. My "career" at the company we both now worked at imploded and I departed leaving Lee there. Our friendship continued on unabated, however, and he continued to offer me support.
During 2003 Lee began telling me about another mate of his who lived and worked in Sweden. The quality of life over there seemed a big improvement on the UK and it was somewhere he would like to know more about. To cut a long story short, Lee moved to Sweden, found work, met and fell in love with the lovely Anna and now has 3 beautiful Anglo-Swedish children. I have been over to see him a couple of times in his hometown of Lidkoping (2 hours drive from Gothenburg) and he has been back to Manchester a handful of times also (usually for City games). Sweden really is a beautiful country and a complete departure from the UK. It has fresh air, space, tranquility and multitudes of beautiful blonde (and dark haired) people. It is a cliche but I genuinely found the Swedish people I have come into contact with so much more chilled out than those in our overcrowded nation. I don't mind admitting that at times I envy him but his story to date is a heart warming tale and no one could be more pleased for him than me.
Footnote: Lee no longer has long, crimped, dyed red hair.
When I heard his full name I matched this with his appearance and thought this was some kind of stage name. I mean "Lee Fortune", come on do me a favour. It's true, though, Fortune is his real surname. Anyway, over the next few months I got to know Lee quite well and he fully integrated himself into the company. One early chat I had with him was about music and he was telling me that he had gone to see the filming of a live music show called The Tube (presented by Jools Holland and Paula Yates) around a couple of years earlier. It was a "Heavy Metal Special" and Ozzy Osbourne was the headline act. He said he got on camera at least once. I couldn't believe it as I had recorded this show on tape at the time and still had it. I went home that night and watched it again and sure enough there was Lee on camera as someone was being interviewed alongside him. I was impressed.
There was always great banter among my colleagues. We were all of a similar age and of similar interests, mainly drinking and winding each other up. However, one day I had a major sense of humour failure and was being wound up by the warehouse lads, including Lee. Connie (bless her) got involved as she was passing and started giving some stick back to them on my behalf. She then disappeared back into her office. I went back to my desk. Within minutes 3 or 4 of the lads (including Lee) grabbed hold of me and dragged me kicking and shouting to a huge box of shredding in the warehouse area. I was thrown into it, then all kinds of crap was thrown in on top of me. I eventually got out to be taunted about my "bird" fighting my battles for me. Connie ended up leaving this company several months later then I followed around 3 months after that.
Fast forward 10 years and I was now working for a different telecoms company and had completely lost touch with Lee. I then saw him once at a Manchester City home game via mutual friends. I only spoke to him briefly, but he told me he didn't stay at our old company much longer after I left and he had been all over the world for various reasons. e left it at that then in 2001 I bumped into him again at a mutual friend's wedding. This time we had a proper catch up and he told me he was in work but was looking for something better paid. At the same time as this my company were recruiting more staff so I gave him my number and told him to ring me. I mentioned this to my boss and within weeks Lee came in for an interview. This was very strange for me as I was jointly doing the interviewing. I pulled a few strings and within a few weeks Lee had rejoined me in the same employment but with a different company 12 years on from when we were last colleagues.
Just as fate put Lee and I back in touch we simultaneously went through our own individual troubled times in our personal lives. We became really good mates and leant on each other for support over the next 2 or 3 years. My "career" at the company we both now worked at imploded and I departed leaving Lee there. Our friendship continued on unabated, however, and he continued to offer me support.
During 2003 Lee began telling me about another mate of his who lived and worked in Sweden. The quality of life over there seemed a big improvement on the UK and it was somewhere he would like to know more about. To cut a long story short, Lee moved to Sweden, found work, met and fell in love with the lovely Anna and now has 3 beautiful Anglo-Swedish children. I have been over to see him a couple of times in his hometown of Lidkoping (2 hours drive from Gothenburg) and he has been back to Manchester a handful of times also (usually for City games). Sweden really is a beautiful country and a complete departure from the UK. It has fresh air, space, tranquility and multitudes of beautiful blonde (and dark haired) people. It is a cliche but I genuinely found the Swedish people I have come into contact with so much more chilled out than those in our overcrowded nation. I don't mind admitting that at times I envy him but his story to date is a heart warming tale and no one could be more pleased for him than me.
Footnote: Lee no longer has long, crimped, dyed red hair.
Friday 1 February 2013
Ping-Pong Ding-Dong
The house I grew up in with 6 siblings had a front room which we turned into a "games room". This room included a dart board (with the obligatory holes in the wall around it); a "den" in one corner made by my younger sister and I and a large multipurpose foldaway table. Amongst other things, this table was used for dining; school homework; playing cards; board games and, most memorably of all for me, was used as a table tennis table.
We always had table tennis bats in the house as well as ping pong balls but never actually owned a bespoke table. This was no barrier to our inventiveness so when in the mood for a game we cleared the table, pulled the flaps out from underneath to bring it to it's maximum size, and used books in the middle of the table as a net. This made the game all the more interesting as the unevenness of the "net" made for a lot of ridiculous ricochets much to the annoyance of the player on the receiving end. The other peculiarities of our table were the cracks where the foldaway parts were. This meant that when the ball hit the crack it skewed off at a mad angle usually resulting in the player who had hit the crack winning the point. The loser of said point would then rant that the other player had deliberately targeted it. This was the era of John McEnroe so there would be rants about replaying the point etc. In hindsight, I believe the oddities of the table actually made me a better player.
When I was 14, there was a competition advertised on a noticeboard at school. It was for a Manchester U-15 table tennis tournament to be held in a couple of months time. It invited applicants and gave information including details of a local sports centre where applicants could practice in the build up to the tournament. I liked the sound of it so I applied, ignoring the "geek","dork" "bushy eye-browed little freak" etc taunts of my school mates. My application was accepted, then I started to practice at the sports centre.
At my first practice session I was asked if I had played on a tournament table before. I scoffed and replied "course I have". The truth was I had never even played on a real table tennis table before never mind a tournament one! I was paired up with another lad and we practiced for a while before starting a game. I could not believe how easy this felt. We obviously used to have our "book net" too high at home as this net seemed really low to me and the table was as smooth as silk. No foldaway cracks or angry brothers on the other side of the net was also helping of course. Anyway, I won quite a few games in practice over the next few weeks then it was time for the big tournament.
The tournament was played on a Saturday in a large school hall in Manchester. On arrival I had never seen so many table tennis tables in one place before and there were hundreds of boys and girls assembled. We were split into 2 large groups (boys and girls competitions were separate) and gave our names, school name, age etc. The organisers carried out a draw and I was told which table to go to and the name of who I would be playing. I had to wait a while for my first match. It was best of 3 games, first to 21. I won the first match 2-0 so progressed to the next round.
The noise in the hall was deafening as the tables were all tightly packed together. Eventually, I completely stunned myself (and our PE teacher) by reaching the semi finals. The lad I played in the semis was easily the toughest I had played so far. It was 1 game all, then 20 all in the final set. The rallies had been long and I started to tire. I was physically fit enough but had no real experience of controlling my upper arm strength and wrist action (?!). Somehow, I got through by the skin of my teeth to the final. I was told I was now guaranteed at least a medal. I was very excited.
We had to play the final almost immediately after the semi. I was knackered! The other lad in the final was of Chinese origin and a couple of the other lads whispered to me that he was "shit hot". They weren't wrong as he smashed me off the table. I lost 2-0 and only won about 6 points in the whole match. My nerves got the better of me a little as well as we had the whole hall watching us. It was a disappointing end to what had been a great day. They held a short presentation at the end and I felt very proud going up to receive my runners up medal and certificate. I still have the certificate to this day (saddo!) but lost the medal along the way somewhere but after this tournament I hardly picked up a table tennis bat again, not even on the "wrong pong" table at home.
We always had table tennis bats in the house as well as ping pong balls but never actually owned a bespoke table. This was no barrier to our inventiveness so when in the mood for a game we cleared the table, pulled the flaps out from underneath to bring it to it's maximum size, and used books in the middle of the table as a net. This made the game all the more interesting as the unevenness of the "net" made for a lot of ridiculous ricochets much to the annoyance of the player on the receiving end. The other peculiarities of our table were the cracks where the foldaway parts were. This meant that when the ball hit the crack it skewed off at a mad angle usually resulting in the player who had hit the crack winning the point. The loser of said point would then rant that the other player had deliberately targeted it. This was the era of John McEnroe so there would be rants about replaying the point etc. In hindsight, I believe the oddities of the table actually made me a better player.
When I was 14, there was a competition advertised on a noticeboard at school. It was for a Manchester U-15 table tennis tournament to be held in a couple of months time. It invited applicants and gave information including details of a local sports centre where applicants could practice in the build up to the tournament. I liked the sound of it so I applied, ignoring the "geek","dork" "bushy eye-browed little freak" etc taunts of my school mates. My application was accepted, then I started to practice at the sports centre.
At my first practice session I was asked if I had played on a tournament table before. I scoffed and replied "course I have". The truth was I had never even played on a real table tennis table before never mind a tournament one! I was paired up with another lad and we practiced for a while before starting a game. I could not believe how easy this felt. We obviously used to have our "book net" too high at home as this net seemed really low to me and the table was as smooth as silk. No foldaway cracks or angry brothers on the other side of the net was also helping of course. Anyway, I won quite a few games in practice over the next few weeks then it was time for the big tournament.
The tournament was played on a Saturday in a large school hall in Manchester. On arrival I had never seen so many table tennis tables in one place before and there were hundreds of boys and girls assembled. We were split into 2 large groups (boys and girls competitions were separate) and gave our names, school name, age etc. The organisers carried out a draw and I was told which table to go to and the name of who I would be playing. I had to wait a while for my first match. It was best of 3 games, first to 21. I won the first match 2-0 so progressed to the next round.
The noise in the hall was deafening as the tables were all tightly packed together. Eventually, I completely stunned myself (and our PE teacher) by reaching the semi finals. The lad I played in the semis was easily the toughest I had played so far. It was 1 game all, then 20 all in the final set. The rallies had been long and I started to tire. I was physically fit enough but had no real experience of controlling my upper arm strength and wrist action (?!). Somehow, I got through by the skin of my teeth to the final. I was told I was now guaranteed at least a medal. I was very excited.
We had to play the final almost immediately after the semi. I was knackered! The other lad in the final was of Chinese origin and a couple of the other lads whispered to me that he was "shit hot". They weren't wrong as he smashed me off the table. I lost 2-0 and only won about 6 points in the whole match. My nerves got the better of me a little as well as we had the whole hall watching us. It was a disappointing end to what had been a great day. They held a short presentation at the end and I felt very proud going up to receive my runners up medal and certificate. I still have the certificate to this day (saddo!) but lost the medal along the way somewhere but after this tournament I hardly picked up a table tennis bat again, not even on the "wrong pong" table at home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)