For Goodness' Sake!

I have confessed many times to being one of life's cynics: I can't help it, I can smell bullshit a mile away!

Lots of people do lots of seemingly good things, and we all have our reasons to do something good. But are they good deeds if they are done because you are scared of a God or because you want a God to give you a better afterlife? Or are these deeds just a blind duty to a supernatural being?

I work within the charity sector and I hold my hands up straight away and say that if my peppercorn wage wasn't available to me I would go elsewhere. Not because I don't care about the people that I work with, I do, but I know that if I don't have a reason to go somewhere, I usually don't go. The charity sector relies heavily on volunteers. These people are usually caring and dedicated individuals -  of that there is no doubt - but they have their reasons to volunteer. Do they just do it because of a wish to change a life? I know lots of people will be very angry about this statement, but think about it. People volunteer because they are bored, lonely or just to occupy their minds. The fact that they volunteer is to be admired because while most people donate some money to alleviate their conscience, these people actually do something. But there are usually other reasons to volunteer.

I am in no way condemning the voluntary sector. Without these people most charities would fold. I'm just saying that there are usually other reasons why people do charity work.

But I have to take off my cynic's hat for a short while, to write about the story of a young boy who touched the hearts of millions, including mine.

Bradley Lowery was born six short years ago in County Durham. He was just another healthy bouncing little bundle of joy for his parents. By the time Bradley was eighteen months old he had contracted a rare form of cancer called, 'Neuroblastoma'. This horrible condition was to not only change the lives of Bradley and his family but also the whole of a town, Sunderland.

Bradley made people aware of his cancer, as it was scarcely known about by the public. He raised money for the charity and also £700,000 was raised to get him antibody treatment. People from all over the world sent him cards  - 250,000 in all. But his love was the game of football and his team was Sunderland.

His favourite player was the striker, Jermain Defoe, who became good friends with the young boy. This was no staged PR stunt by an overpaid footballer, this was a real friendship. Jermain would often call in on Bradley after he had been training, with no cameras to be seen, Bradley claimed that Jermain was his best friend and Jermain replied that Bradley was his best friend too. When Defoe signed for Bournemouth he drove back north to county Durham to see little Bradley, who always wore his football shirt with Defoe on his back and the striker's number. He even acted as a mascot for England and scored a goal before the game. We all hear about the negative aspects about feckless footballers and their ostentatious life styles, but how refreshing to hear about a wonderful guy who just gave his time and love to a young child that had such a difficult time.

It was announced that Bradley was getting weaker at the beginning of June this year and Jermain again turned up to little Bradley's bedside and laid and cuddled the little boy who in turn snuggled up to his hero. On the 7^th July little Bradley lost his fight against this insidious decease and died. The whole of the town of Sunderland mourned this brave little boy who had such a zest for life. The whole football team turned out for his funeral, along with past and present managers.

Thousands of people from Sunderland lined the streets as his little coffin was driven past and they both clapped and wept openly. Sunderland is usually known for negative aspects such as unemployment or the fact that they overwhelmingly voted for Brexit. Sunderland is usually held up as a town where obesity is rife, but now for me this is a town that can hold its head high. Men in football shirts stood with tears in their eyes proudly sending off one of their own, for no other reason than love, love for a little boy that they hardly knew. Bradley loved his super heroes such as Spiderman and the ninja turtles and Captain America. As his coffin slowly rolled through the streets, there, standing upright to attention in full costume were his heroes  - Spiderman and Captain America and even a ninja turtle all stood straight and proud, saluting his coffin.

And there, walking at the side at the side of the car carrying the coffin, was the little boy's best friend Jermain Defoe, who had flown back from training in Spain to be at the funeral. He walked with tears in his eyes and he wore an England shirt with the words Bradley Lowery and the number 6 on the back.

Sometimes we all do things because we love and care about others. I cannot imagine the pain the family of Bradley must be going through at this time but they must be proud of such a wonderful little boy. I know that they will be helped and loved by a whole community that cares. To Jermain Defoe I give my utmost respect. No doubt you will, like all of us, make mistakes, but when you were needed you stepped up to the mark and even walked over it.

Sunderland, I salute you!  

The Violent Pacifist!

I believe that we are all a contradiction of terms, though most people don't agree with me on this subject. But I bet that their public persona is completely different from their private persona. Just look at how many moralistic devil-dodgers get caught in brothels. How many times have you seen people flashing the cash in an obscene show of decadence only to find out later that they were completely broke? What about the poor old ladies that have to exist on handouts, only for it to be revealed that they were millionaires when they die.

The last one of those scenarios happened to me in the late eighties. I was working as a self-employed joiner at the time and I was called to a house owned by a lovely fragile little old lady who had unfortunately been burgled. Her door was broken and she needed a new lock. I managed to fix the door as she told me that she had no money. My brother in-law had a locksmiths shop and I explained to him the situation and he kindly gave me a five lever lock to fit for this charming old lady. When the work was finished she looked at me with her big puppy eyes that looked as if they were about to burst into tears when I told her how much I was going to charge her for my days work. But her worry turned to a huge smile when I told her to make me a cup of tea and we would call it quits. I even had to go to the shops for her because she had run out of milk! 

For many months afterwards I would receive a call from Mrs Johnstone asking if I would be kind enough to fix a fence or put a catch on a garden gate. The jobs were never that big and I usually did them on my way home from a day's work. She always paid me the same way, she made me a cup of tea. My wife even said at the time that she thought this old lady might be mugging me, but I told her that she didn't have any money at all and someone had to help her. When she died in 1989 she left a bank account that totalled £750,000. I wasn't mentioned in the will!

The above title is something that my older brother, John, always claims about me. I suppose in a way he is quite right. I detest violence when its directed at innocent people. I hate violence when it's directed at anyone really, it doesn't solve anything. I detest bullies, and I cannot understand why any politician would want to send young people off to war. Any fool knows that wars only serve to perpetuate hatred and fear, and diplomacy is the only way to solve differences. Having said all this I love to fight. In the ring that is -  I would walk away from anyone who verbally attacks me in the street, but not if they physically touch me. I would also become very aggressive if anyone was to harm those that I love. So you see, my brother is correct. I don't like violence, yet I use violence of sorts for my sport. I have to say though that all the fighters that I mix with are very similar to me; lots are doctors or care professionals. They, too, live their lives to help others but they love to fight for sport.

The other claim my brother makes about me is that I'm a 'gregarious hermit'? This is partially true as well. Let me start by saying that I'm not a hermit in the true sense of the word. I live in a neighbourhood with lots of people. Having said this, I don't mix with any of them or talk to any of them. I don't like parties and I don't want to strike up conversations with anyone when I go on holiday or when I go out for a meal or a drink. I have friends whose company I enjoy and that is more than enough for me. But in my professional life I have to chat to everyone. I have to make conversation and engage with others. It very important that people feel that they can talk to me and trust me, I'm there to help them. Also as a performer I have to engage with others and make them feel that we are friends. So you see both my id and ego are are constantly at odds with themselves.

But all these little foibles that I have pale into insignificance when you see the duplicity of the powers that be. How many times have we encountered terrible tragedies, only to be told by a second rate politician that their thoughts and prayers are with the families? what use is that! Firstly, thoughts and prayers are as much use as a cotton condom, but just how condescending is this phrase?

After the terrible fire at the Grenfell tower block we heard lots of politicians saying how sad they were. I'm not saying that anyone would be happy about the situation, but we heard lots of platitudes and no action! Behind the scenes I felt there was a very busy buck that had been passed around quite a lot. These people were more interested in not being seen to be at blame than stepping in to help lots of people who needed their help the most. But then I often feel that our politicians are the unelectable elected!