My go-to website

For over a year Chumplady.com has been my first port of call when I’m in the mood to laugh at the absurdities of life.

This is a very good article. I hope she won’t mind my linking to it.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave

“How stand we now?-he told his tale
To Douglas; and with some avail;                       
  ‘Twas therefore gloom’d his rugged brow.-
Will Surrey dare to entertain,
‘Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain?
Small risk of that, I trow.
Yet Clare’s sharp questions must I shun;               
Must separate Constance from the Nun-
O, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!
A Palmer too!-no wonder why
I felt rebuked beneath his eye:                       
I might have known there was but one,
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion.’”

excerpt from Marmion, by Sir Walter Scott

Alan Minter

This is a little piece I wrote last week for Boxing News. I was very honoured to do so. Alan Minter was the first boxer I ever met. I was a 17-year-old wine waiter and he was drinking the wine. Our paths crossed a few times over the years. I liked him a lot. He was a very, very nice man.

Bloody hell… I wrote a poem!

Have no memory whatsoever of writing this. I did it five years ago apparently. Obviously wasn’t in the greatest of moods that day. I think it’s only the second poem I’ve ever written in my life. So I thought I’d re-blog it.

This is the world we live in

This is the world we live in:
Where people live and people die,
Where people fuck and people cry,
Where people walk and drive and fly,
And don’t know where or when or why,
This is the world we live in.

This is the world we’re lost in:
Where God is love and God is hate,
Depending on which town or state,
Or street where you originate,
For that is where they seal your fate,
And point you down the road you take,
This is the world we’re lost in.

This is the place we hope in:
Where bombs explode and all the while,
You go to work and try to smile,
And wonder why they want you dead,
Perhaps it’s something that you said?
More likely those who use your name,
To do their deeds and play their game,
Whichever case, it ends the same,
It’s you who is the one to blame,
This is place we hope in.

This is the place we love in:
Where people starve to death in pain,
And children die before they’re named,
For want of but a fist of rice,
That rains down on the bride,
So nice…
…to see that they are having fun,
Lives just beginning, others’ done,
This is the place we love in.

This is the land we dream in:
Where those who have are given more,
And those without are shown the door,
Where rich stay rich, and poor stay poor,
And live their lives below the law,
And kill and rob and maim and whore,
To raise themselves above the floor,
And crane their necks towards the sky,
But never know the reason why,
This is the world we dream in.

This is the land of freedom:
Where actions cost but talk is cheap,
About a megabyte a week,
Is all you need to squawk and Tweet,
And with that you can wipe your feet,
Of all the prayers you should be praying,
The info you should be relaying,
The demons that you should be slaying,
(Only saying…)
This is the land of freedom.

This is the world we live in:
A land of plenty for the few,
The rest of us must just make do,
And try our best to make it through,
This is the world we live in.

RIP Alan Minter

So sad to hear of the death of one or my heroes Alan Minter. I first met him in 1979 when I was a 17-year-old wine waiter. The last time I saw him was in 2018, when I wrote this article for Boing News.

Tyson Fury article for Boxing News

Can any nice people out there please help my daughter Sofia?

My sixteen-year-old-daughter, Sofia, is hoping to raise money so that she can travel to Uganda in the summer to help deprived people living there.

Working with the charity The Great Generation her ambition is to supply underprivileged Ugandans with books, female hygiene products, building materials and essential educational resources.

Sofia has never done anything like this before in her life and I am extremely proud of her for wanting to make a difference in this way.

Below is a link to her Wonderful crowdfunding campaign. I would be so grateful if you could make a small financial contribution or, alternatively, share, retweet or reblog this appeal.

Many thanks,

Ian

https://www.wonderful.org/fundraiser/thegreatgenerationugandaexpedition2020-8987bc4e

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Protected: Excerpt from Tracy Schorn’s excellent book

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Lovely poem by John Howell

When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love the way I feel when I’m with you. I love myself through you. I love seeing myself through your eyes. I love seeing myself through my eyes imagining how I look through your eyes. I love having someone new to tell my stories to, to express my opinions, and to share my profound theories and beliefs about the important things in life. I love hearing myself say these things as I imagine how they sound to you, and how enthralled with me I imagine you are.

When I say I’m in love with you, I love having someone beautiful to wear, like a new outfit. I love the way you feel on me. I love the way I feel about me when you are with me.

When I say I’m in love with you, I love not being alone. I love not being that tree falling in the forest. I love having a full-time, personal audience.

When I say I’m in love with you I mean I love being your mystery, your riddle, being what keeps you up at night, your obsession. I love being your altar, your sacrament, your icon, your miracle. I love being your answer. I love being the object of your sacrifice. I love being your pain.

When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I’m in love with being your sun, monopolizing your orbit, being your gravity, keeping you drawn back to me no matter how hard you try to jump or fly, keeping you down. Keeping you mine.

When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I’m in love with breathing your air, sucking your blood, eating your dreams. I’m in love with being your drug, your dagger, your suicide note.

When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love the story I can tell to my next lover, about my ex-lover, about how beautiful things were, how intense, how storybook, what a couple we were, and how you gradually, inexplicably, painfully, bit by bit, disappeared.