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DRIVE-THRU COSTA
The Edge Editor’s Column JANUARY
BONHOMIE When I was out with Yan/Jan recently - see page 30 - he got chatting to someone he knew from his old Zagger days, so I spotted a bloke on his own in the Railway Tavern, mucking about on his laptop, went over and said, “Hey, do you fancy a chat for a few minutes?” Quick as a flash, he said, “What about?” Well, a little sluggish due to the alcohol already consumed, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, and as I dithered, he jumped straight back in with a firm, “No thanks.” Oh the sheer warmth and bonhomie of you bloody southerners.
MIGRAINE I’m lucky in so far as I don’t suffer with migraines. But Mrs Edge does, so this is a call out for any help or advice (a solution would be great), because these days you don’t have ‘a doctor’ as such any more, do you? Not one single person
who you’ve known and who has treated you for years and who has come to know you. My missus has religiously compiled all of the food charts and what have you over the years, yet nothing - NOTHING - has made a blind bit of difference and she’s going through prescription tablets like nobodies business, which is a bit of a worry to us both. So is there anyone out there who could offer her some genuine help or advice?
FOGEY FOTOGRAFS There needs to be a dramatic increase in 2022, readers (see page 28). So get photographing the fogeys in your family now, as The Edge really does like to do its bit for Help The Aged.
GUTTED Gutted for Lewis Hamilton. Absolutely criminal. I cannot make head nor tail of some of Formula One’s rules, because I honestly don’t think there’s any sense to had from ’em.
OLD GREY WHISTLE TEST Did you happen to see the replay of a 40 year old OGWT episode recently about when Annie Nightingale tagged onto a Police tour of the Far East back in 1980? Loved it. Such memories. Because I loved The Police back then with a passion. What a unique sound. I’d never heard anything like them before. And has there ever been a better debut single than Roxanne? Oh and what about “The afternoon has gently passed me by...” (Bring On The Night). I’d just turned 20 back then. Ahhhh. THE EDGE Chelmsford CM2 6XD 077 646 7 97 44 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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Probably my least favourite month of the year. What’s to like about it? Do you know, the first thing I see when I wake up of a morning, if I’m lying on my back and have obviously been snoring all night, is the sky through our Velux windows in our bedroom ceiling. And I says to Mrs Edge the other morning, I said, I said, “I don’t like the look of today at all, my love, and I don’t like the sound of it either.” The wind was blowing a proper hoolie and all I wanted to do was to pull the duvet over my head and return to the blissful Land of Nod. But you have to get up, don’t you, and it’s bollocks. It’s sometimes not what I pigging well want to be doing, especially during winter. But January’s just the fecking start of it. We’ve still got February and March to get through yet, and more than likely the first half of April before we can truly unbutton our overcoats. Tut, I dunno. I’ve been saying for years I’d rather be abroad the first 3 months of the year.
My step-dad’s 80, yet he’s just forked out a couple of thousand quid for some 19” wheels for his Beamer, as clearly he didn’t think his 18” jobbies were cutting enough mustard. What’s all that about? Talk about an ‘Old Boy’ Racer. Anyhow, he was telling me about one of his most recent excursions to a service station just off a motorway and that him and me mum ended up in a Drive-Thru Costa queue, but he doesn’t even like coffee. Feck me, Costa have been in England since 1981, yet he spat out their name as if they were some new, upstart kids on the block. And can you imagine ‘accidentally’ getting into a Drive-Thru queue, realising your mistake, only having to poke up with it as there’s no way out? Hilarious.
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Huge first phase line-up announced inc. Calvin Harris/David Guetta/ Becky Hill/Camelphat/Fatboy Slim/Carl Cox/deadmau5/Charlotte de Witte/Amelie Lens/Jamie Jones... The inaugural edition of Creamfields South sees the UK’s biggest DANCE FESTIVAL do ‘the double’ in June 2022 and it’s already clear it’s going to be a solid front-runner on the global festival scene. Oh yes indeed, people, these are some of the biggest names from across the dance music spectrum. It’s a mix of big-hitting superstars and global underground legends. Leading the charge from the underground is the king of techno himself, Carl Cox, legendary Liverpool duo Camelphat, deadmau5, Charlotte de Witte, Amelie Lens and Paradise head honcho Jamie Jones. For a first phase headline announcement, it doesn’t get much bigger than this, and with over 150 acts still to be unleashed, performing across seven mind blowing stages, including the colossal 15,000
capacity ‘Steel Yard’ superstructure, it’s fair to say that Creamfields South are going BIG to mark their twenty-five year celebrations. The launch of Creamfields South in Chelmsford takes place at the stunning Hylands Park from 2nd - 4th June 2022, coinciding with the Jubilee Bank Holiday weekend. As with the first ever Creamfields in 1998, BBC Radio 1 will be there to mark the occasion, broadcasting some of the very best sets from the weekend. With over 100,000 people already signed up for the 50,000 capacity three-day camping fest, demand for tickets has already been incredibly high. So DO NOT DELAY - purchase your tickets TODAY! www.creamfieldschelmsford.com/signup/ Tickets & Info - www.creamfieldssouth.com/ www.facebook.com/CreamfieldSouth IG & Twitter - @CreamfieldSouth / #CreamfieldsSouth
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Well, those immortal words of Les Dawson certainly make for a right riveting change than simply wishing you all a ‘Happy New Year’, don’t you think? It’s always very odd indeed producing the January editions, no matter what year you’re in, because (a) you’ve always got one week less to put it all together, as most printers shut down between Crimbo and the New Year. And (b) you’re compiling it in the weeks leading up to Christmas, when everyone’s all bubbly and jolly and positive and rosy, only you know January’s pretty much going to go down like the Titanic. Yet people SAY: “Thank god 2021’s behind us.” Only I don’t know about you, but I echo’d the exact same sentiments towards the very end of 2020 and look where that got us. So is The Edge feeling optimistic about the future? Let’s just say it’s sitting on the fence at the moment, getting splinters in it’s arse-cheeks (which is Edgespeak for ‘we have the right to temporarily reserve judgement’). I’m actually writing this on Friday 26th November, having only just signed off the December Edge proofs at 9:15pm the previous evening, yet I need to get stuck into the very first edition of 2022 before the Christmas issues have seen the light of day, because that’s how it works. Like many of you, I am merely a mouse in a cage, running around a bloody wheel. Very much looking forward to a few ales with Yan/Jan (see him on page 14) tonight though, as I‘m certain I deserve ’em.
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Because, for starters, they’d booked us to sit in their so-called ‘bird cage’. Only I took one look at it and thought ‘Oh no’. Maybe, perhaps, if four girls were out for a meal. But definitely not just me and Mrs Edge. Comfortably seated elsewhere, at a window table with views over an illuminated Bond Street that I thought Chelmsford would never see the like of, we perused the menu over some spicy Thai crackers with an amazing dip that I could honestly have carried on eating all night long. But eventually, eventually, I am sure much to our waitress Amy’s relief (she’s from Highbury, don’t you know - the posh end), we settled upon our starters of Chicken Satay (£6.50) for moi, while my lovely missus opted for the Grilled Squid and Crisped Thai Garlic (£6.50). So far, so good. Because we love Thai food and if you do too, well then, there’s nothing not to like where the Giggling Squid is concerned, located where Loch Fyne used to be. No, the drama came where our main courses were concerned and me not taking sufficient notice of the ‘TWO CHILLI WARNING SYMBOLS’ on the menu!
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Now I am sure that, like many a wife, Mrs Edge particularly loves to share. I dunno, perhaps because she feels as though she’ll be missing out if she doesn’t have some of mine as well?
So yeah, the Pad Cha certainly taught me a thing or two about heat. And, save for two coffees, that was us done (we even had to take some of our mains home in a ‘doggy bag’). How people can consume three courses is beyond us, unless we’re simply lightweights. But the greatest giggle of the entire evening was still to come from May, when he was telling us of his time working at the Giggling Squid restaurant in - wait for it - “Billilicky”.
However, it was me who should have kept my big mouth shut, for I really fancied the Pad Cha (£12.95) cooked in a flaming wok, completely NOT NOTICING the fact it had not one, but two chilli symbols beside it on the menu.
OMG, we were not laughing at his English (after all, we can only say ‘sawadee kah’ in Thai) as it’s superb, but merely his pronunciation, which had us in absolute fits. So I kept on asking him to repeat himself, and, much to my gratitude and childish delight, he obliged.
Mrs Edge then suggested the Royal Fishing Boat Curry (£16.50) which is what I started out with and it was beautiful, consisting of mussels, prawns, squid and a whole salmon steak in a truly delicious sauce. Only then the half-time whistle blew and our plates suddenly changed ends and it was time for me to take on the Pad Cha and OMG, it was hot, hot, HOT! Mrs Edge had mentioned to me to “be careful of the chillis”, but I’m a man, aren’t I? Least I thought I was. But to my great relief, May (that’s a guy, not a gal) came rushing out from the kitchen in order to aid me with a glass of fresh milk, as the water simply wasn’t working a jot.
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Is thankfully slightly deaf. Accepts a cup of a tea and a custard cream. Still doesn’t know whose birthday it is by the end of the party. The Exhausted Parent - heralds any form of kids party as 2-3 hours of free childcare. Arrives first, leaves last, spends the whole time chatting or catching up on the goss on their phone. Has bags under their eyes that Easyjet would charge extra for. Lives for the day the kids are old enough for them to ‘drop and run’ and they can legit grab a blissful, undisturbed nap in the car.
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The Party Parent - blatantly hungover from a crazy night on the tiles the night before and clearly regards this experience as the seventh circle of hell. Has a second heartbeat in their head and wears dark glasses for the duration. Smells faintly of Methylated Spirits and is highly likely to be flammable. Sits in the corner constantly downing glasses of water for two hours, yet doesn't need to pee once. Counts down the minutes until they can leave early and go straight to McDonald’s for a carb fest and a milkshake.
During the multiple lockdowns and various periods of uncertainty in between, one of the definite ‘pros’ for parents was the reprieve from enduring the almost guaranteed hellish, million decibel, unique experience that is a ‘Kids Birthday Party’. By contrast, this was also an acknowledged ‘con’ for the actual kids themselves, who missed out on running around with their friends in multiple community halls, being completely feral, bouncing on endless castles, bursting bubbles, screaming at entertainers, and eating their own body weight in party rings. But it’s safe to say for many (many) months now that kid’s parties have been back....and you could say with a vengeance. Whether you’re attending one, or against your better judgement actually throwing one, the basic survival of all concerned is always the measure of success, and it cannot be denied that they are generally populated with a myriad of morbidly fascinating characters and personalities.
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The Ghost Parent - has never been seen before. Doesn’t know anyone, or indeed even where the school is. Attends under duress because unfathomably it appears to be the au pair’s day off. Spends the whole time on an international work conference call via a set of pretentious wireless headphones, looking like she’s talking to herself, whilst casting regular looks of horror and disdain at other people’s children, before gradually creating her own defence shield in the form of an aura of posh antibacterial hand gel.
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The Dieting Parent - gave up carbs a week ago, but the buffet has broken them and they are now secretly eating leftover Nutella sandwich crusts, pombears and anything else they can get their hands on when they think no-one is watching. Displays as much willpower as an addict who’s just broken out of rehab and found a 2-4-1 offer with a dealer. The Harassed Parent - either has at least 6 kids or it just looks like they do. Will arrive en masse with random uninvited siblings in tow. Has a ‘hedge-strewn’ hairstyle and slightly stained clothing, probably with blood pressure ready to go into orbit. Struggles to keep tabs on all of their kids and openly laments not bringing back-up in the form of the other parent or any other unsuspecting adult in her circle. Really needs a week at a spa and a makeover, but in reality is going home to a tornado of children and chaos. The Paranoid Parent - follows their child around wearing a permanent frown in a constant state of anxiety that their previous offspring might be thrown down the slide, injured in a stampede of feral rampaging children, or simply because they know without a shadow of a doubt that their child will be the one leading the uprising, and/or is highly likely to attack another child without warning at any moment. Suffers from regular tension headaches and consistent eye-strain. Unable to engage in conversation due to the need to remain ‘on duty’ at all times. Has the observational skills of a trained assassin, and a bladder of steel out of pure logistical necessity.
The Busy Bee Parent - either an integral cog in the PTA wheel or desperately aspires to be. Knows everyone, knows everything, has used every kid’s entertainer within a 10 mile radius and is on first name terms with most of them. On arrival she starts dishing out drinks/food, welcoming guests, clearing up, and generally averting crises with random children, to the point where everyone assumes she is actually the host, and thank her profusely as they leave.
The Peter Pan Parent - the classic ‘pied piper’ of the party because they clearly never grew up. They manage to single handedly whip the kids into a frenzy (even before they crack out the barely diluted squash, marshmallows and iced gems). Barely distinguishable through the army of kids they appear to be wearing, they ultimately get beaten to a pulp in a tsunami of at least 30 rolling children. Upon executing an escape, they develop a self proclaimed hernia, but then spend the rest of the party smugly judging the hired entertainer and comparing themselves favourably.
The Confused Grandparent - they were asked to bring the child because the parents had other commitments. Has no idea who anyone is or why they are there. Has never heard of baby shark.
So next time you find yourselves at one of these auspicious events, be sure to keep an eye out for the key characters on this list. Not forgetting, of course, that others will be looking out for you. ;)
Follow Mel on Instagram at @everyonefed_nobodydead and on Facecock at https://www.facebook.com/everyonefednobodydead/
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It’s time to fight off the January Blues and join Channels Bar & Brasserie for a stunning new Winter Menu full of the freshest seasonal ingredients and unique creations from their incredibly talented Head Chef, Dan Pitts. This year, CB&B will be running their ‘Nifty Fifty’ menu every Monday-Friday between 12pm-3pm where you can dine on the finest dishes at an incredible 50% discount! Featured on the menu are starters, mains and desserts that are sure to have you returning to Channels to work your way through all of the dishes. For instance, the Tandoori Salmon rings in the brand new year with a sense of freshness mixed with gorgeous, bold flavours. Chef Dan says, “We’re using fresh North Atlantic Salmon that we then marinade in a yoghurt based tandoori spiced glaze. We blacken the outside to order with a blowtorch and finish the cooking under a hot grill. Garnished with a green chilli and red cabbage ’slaw plus spiced golden raisin ketchup.” What a way to get your meal off to a fantastic start! Moving on to main dishes, the Guinea Fowl Kiev with Creamed Savoy & Pancetta and ‘Mash & Liquor’ boasts of Guinea Fowl breast stuffed with black garlic butter, breadcrumbed and fried to order, finished in the oven. Garnishes include creamed Savoy cabbage with crispy pancetta and on the side a bowl of whipped rooster potato and all the cooking juices from the Kiev and crispy onions. Or perhaps you’d prefer a customer favourite, such as Miso Blackened Cod. This dish has always been a staple on Channels’ menu in one form or another. The cod fillet is ‘vac packed’ in a white miso mix so the miso really penetrates and flavours the fish. To order, its skin is blackened in a hot pan then finished in the oven. Garnish includes umami rich broth containing shiitake & enoki mushrooms, pink pickled ginger, buckwheat soba noodles, finished with puffed rice and fried lotus root for a truly crunchy texture. Definitely not to be missed! For dessert, how about the gorgeous Pear & Ginger Cak, which is such a comfort food plate. It also happens to be completely vegan. Not forgetting roasted glazed pear and rosemary caramel - which might sound strange, but apparently works unbelievably with a roasted pine nut mousse and honeycomb. So do not hesitate. Book your table today on the Channels Bar & Brasserie website www.channelsestate.co.uk and make sure you ‘do lunch’ from their all new Nifty Fifty menu available throughout January, February and March of 2022.
ERNEST
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KIEV - Walking in a Winter Motherland Any opportunity to visit a country for the first time always triggers a strong urge for adventure in me. So even the onset of harsh wintry conditions and the ominous build-up of Russian troops in the Donbass conflict zone couldn't deter me from taking a three day trip to Ukraine’s capital, Kiev. Arriving early on a Wednesday evening I checked-in to a comfortable and spacious apartment a few hundred metres away from the Olimpiyskiy Stadium (more of that Edge of the World later). I headed straight out to a travel correspondent. Embarks on couple of bars to sample the local assignments in a futile effort hospitality, the rich choice of craft to preserve his sense of youth, beers and the Kiev nightlife. Drinking always acknowledging that he was cheap, very cheap, especially ‘Won’t pass this way again’. away from the main tourist hubs, and good quality comfort food (including Chicken Kiev) wasn’t hard to find either with an impressive choice of restaurants. Great tasting coffee and cake was widely available for under a quid in countless trendy cafés (some making very bold claims about the quality of their coffee). The following day I awoke to snowy conditions, but headed out in boots and winter gear and covered nearly 9 miles simply ambling around taking in as much of the city as I could. Highlights included the Eastern Orthodox Monastery of the Caves (Kyiv Pecherska Lavra), the 340ft Motherland Monument (Rodina-Mat) and the excellent WWII museum within the building that acts as the monument’s plinth.
Fascinating as I find it, the more you learn about Ukraine’s history, the more you appreciate just how painful and sad it’s been. Suppression by the Soviets, who confiscated land in the early 1930s in the drive for collectivisation, meant that huge swathes of the population (some claim over 4 million) starved to death. This was shortly followed by WWII and more mass loss of life under the merciless Nazi regime in occupation. Estimates put the death toll during that conflict between 8-10 million. Fast forward to 1991 and Ukraine was rewarded with independence following the collapse of the Soviet Union. People expected progress toward an improved standard of living but instead Ukraine lost 60% of its GDP during the 90’s and in 1993 suffered an inflation rate of over 10,000%. The people, frustrated with the economy along with endemic crime and corruption, mobilised and organised strikes. A period of relative stability followed with real growth of the economy. Alas more turbulence was to follow over the next twenty years with rigged elections, a resulting uprising, the poisoning of the opposition leader, the Orange revolution, the Euromaidan protests, Putin’s backing of the Russian speaking eastern Donbass region and the annexation of Crimea which all brings us up to the present time with things looking very tense with much speculation that Putin is poised to invade. It seems the sad and painful history of Ukraine continues. On trips to major cities I like to test the local mass-transit systems with metros being a favourite. Kiev's metro is a product of the Soviet era and unsurprisingly resembles those of Moscow and St. Petersburg but with slightly less elaborate station architecture. Arsenalna station lies nearly 350 feet (105.5 meters) beneath the city, making it the deepest metro station in the world. Reaching the platform involves multiple escalators and can take up to five minutes and it’s common to see locals reading books on this section of their commute. I was keen to see how Kiev’s Olympic Stadium functioned as a football arena and Dynamo conveniently had a fixture on the Thursday evening, so I purchased a ticket for about £6.50 (and that was for an expensive seat). The stadium’s capacity is about 70,000 and the running track remains in situ, so spectators are much further from the pitch than at the much criticised London Stadium. Unfortunately the match was a disappointing spectacle for the sparse 11,000 crowd and Dynamo did little to impress, losing 0-1. I’ve been going to watch West Ham for fifty years now so it wasn't the first time and won’t be the last time I'd witnessed a home team underperform in an Olympic Stadium. But West Ham are currently enjoying an unprecedented run of form, their fortunes transformed under the genius David Moyes. Their fans have recently taken to ascribing the adjective ‘MASSIVE’ to the club infuriating rival fans who complain that the Hammers are getting way ahead of themselves. But they just don’t get it. The subtle irony is lost on those rivals; only true Hammers appreciate the opportunity for humour provided by this latest scintilla of hope, this brief dizzying dalliance with European competition and a position in the Premier League’s top four. How gratifying it is that the East London fanbase delight in self-mocking while in stark contrast our North London neighbours persist in their tiresome comical delusion that they are, despite all evidence to the contrary, a big club. So, we’ll just enjoy ourselves while it lasts in the safe knowledge that sooner or later fortunes will be hiding once more and we’ll be looking down; not up. And then we’ll reacquaint ourselves with the gallows humour that accompanies the customary contemplation of the drop and the desperate scramble to amass 40 points.
EDGE
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I won’t pass this way again, but my tip would be to visit Kiev in the summer, for under the blanket of white there apparently lies a verdant and vibrant city.
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EDITOR’S NOTE: It’s amazing just how many of The Edge’s columnists are West Ham fans. There’s Phil (here), Deaks, Jan and Billy Hinken. Then there’s Wardo and The Silver Surfer who follow Spurs. But so far as I’m aware, no-one follows Arsenal, Chelsea or Palace. For what it’s worth tho’, I’d love to see The Irons finish ‘top 4’ this season.
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Sorry, I digress. Back to Kiev. On Friday, to round off my brief visit, I braved more heavy snowfall to get a view of more of the city’s landmark buildings, punctuating my trek with a number of café and bar stops in an attempt to dry my boots and sample more of the culture.
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Those 4 days away we had in a rented house in The Lakes during early December, that I mentioned in last months editions, went by in a blur of food, drink and a full-on DVD fest (mainly of Crimbo movies, but, of course, we’re not really allowed to mention the ‘C’ word in any other editions apart from December - EE ruling). Daft thing is though, we may as well have rented a house in Watford (wife’s sister and her hubby joined us from Cornwall) as we didn’t do a single, solitary walk (criminal, I know, but I had just come down with Man Flu, so was doing my utmost to ‘drink myself well’ again). We left Chelmsford at 06:30am on a Thursday morning and it was 297 miles, door-to-door, taking us the best part of 6 hours, which included a couple of stretch/Costa/pee-stops. Going up it was (amazingly) wall-to-wall sunshine. But coming back, dear oh dear, it never stopped raining. The Lakes is a truly beautiful part of the country, although it is yet another place that I absolutely couldn’t live in permanently.
The Edge can’t openly say it’s optimistic, but we can but hope, right readers? Because 2022 surely can’t be as bad as last year, can it? Or 2020, come to that. Otherwise Match of the Day will start to look a bit like the above, particularly when the teams trot out onto the pitch for the start of a match. I’ve been thinking about what I am really, really looking forward to, and there’s no prizes for guessing what it is. Yep, it’s a holiday. But it has/needs to be a two-weeker (whereas I only usually ever dare take but one week during any other month bar December, January or March), while the destination I very much fancy being a Greek isle, as it’s somewhere that’s never, ever let me down to date. I dunno, it must be a Shirley Valentine thing for us northerners, but a fortnight on a Greek island sounds like sheer and utter bliss to your editor right about now, yet it’s sadly not something I’m confident is going to happen during 2022, primarily because I’d also need it to be totally hassle-free. So, like I’ve said, we can but hope.
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WE ALSO REPAIR CARAVANS!
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As briefly mentioned in the Crimbo editions of Ye Olde Fruit’n’Veg, the last surveying trip I went on with Lurch involved jobs in both Yorkshire and Lancashire and bless him, he pulled out all the stops and booked us into the Crowne Plaza for a night at Shudehill, Manchester M4 (only what sort of a bloody address is Shudehill, FFS?). Only let’s forget about the surveying work we carried out and instead get straight on with me telling you about the beds, as they were magnificent and forced me to return home quite perturbed, as the mattress Mrs Edge and I sleep on every night came from John Lewis (before they arrived in Chelmsford), but my god, it honestly must be almost 10 years old now, so we are certainly due an upgrade. Just look at these babies? You can definitely tell I’m officially ‘old’ these days, as I was all excited about sleeping in one (mine was the one on the left, nearest our bathroom, so’s I didn’t have to walk too far when I definitely had to get up during the night for a tinkle). Oh and it was honestly every bit as good as it looks, readers. In fact, I actually think we might have to ring them to find out what beds they use, as some hotels don’t mind letting you know that sort of stuff these days, do they. And the breakfast wasn’t too shabby either. Definitely a step up from a Premier Inn (although Portsmouth Dockyard did offer a really decent one as it’s pretty new, though whether that should make a difference or not?). The evening before we’d ventured out into Manchester’s Northern Quarter, which is an exceedingly odd name if you ask me. I mean, what else were they going to call it, it being oop bloody north and all? I’d heard a bit about it, so it was handy that our digs (I’ve always called the place you’re staying at ‘digs’, have you? Not sure where it derives from though) were within easy walking distance.
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So what can I tell you about the experience? Well, I couldn’t find (a) a nice draught brown coloured ale, or (b) any shade of beer that I liked, so that was a bit of a kick in the cobblers, as northerners (and I’m no longer one of ’em, by the way, which I’ll return to, if I can remember) are forever going on about having ‘better beer oop north than down south’, aren’t they just? But no matter how many pubs and bars we ventured into - and we visited a few - I could find nothing remotely like Old Speckled Hen, which I tend to favour these days, as it’s ‘beer brown’, malty in flavour, 5% alcoholic strength, and it does me just fine. Christ, I even had a Diet Coke with my Pad Thai (at My Thai, which was absolutely delicious) things had gotten so bad. So seriously, please don’t be rattling on about Manchester’s so-called Northern Quarter to me, as I honestly didn’t rate it at all. And what about all that so-called ‘warmth of the north’, though certainly not where their climate’s concerned, rather the fact that northerners are supposedly more open and much friendlier than southerners (hasn’t The Edge proved that to you over the past 25 years?). Well, I didn’t see much of their ‘warmth’ in Manchester, starting with the battleaxe on the reception desk at the Plaza. So hey, perhaps it’s just a myth? Returning to the fact that I’m clearly no longer a northerner, well, that’s what it is. A fact. Because how can I be? If I left Yorkshire aged 16 and then spent 5 years on the flatlands of Lincolnshire, before one year in central London (renting), followed by the remainder of my life in (bloody) Chelmsford (sorry, but I can’t help putting a ‘bloody’ in front of it), then surely these days I’m a bona fide southerner? I am, and that’s all there is to it, whether you lot like it or not. Reet, so, what else did we get up to? Erm, we visited a couple of football arenas.
One was Manchester City’s and the other was? Oh, I forget the name of them now, though this estate agent’s photograph (below) would be interesting if ever a house came on the market down this particular road.
So, next morning, after our lovely breakfast, we got in Lurch’s motor to do a couple of other jobs on the border of the Pennines, and as we did so, we happily left the lashing rain and grey skies of Manchester behind us. Because as they say, ‘IT’S GRIM UP NORTH’ (well, it most certainly is in many a part of it, that’s for sure). And do you know what, readers? At the very same time that Lurch’s wipers were going ten-to-the-dozen on the M66 towards Burnley, I was astoundingly, yet reliably, informed that there were blanket blue skies and sunshine back in (bloody) Chelmsford! www.theedgemag.co.uk
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can go an awfully long way to building success.
COYI
NON-ALCOHOLIC GUINNESS
SLEEPLESS NIGHTS Don't you just hate them! There’s nothing worse than waking up far earlier than you want to, only to find yourself finally heading back to the land of zzzeds just as the bloody alarm goes off.
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This has been exactly the case as I write this month's article. After finishing my week of working nights, the week off after is usually heaven sent. However, for whatever reason, I've struggled to get my sleeping pattern back on track to some sort of normality, which is somewhat annoying to say the very least. I'm either going to bed at 10pm (as normal) and dozing off for a couple of hours, but then waking up needing to go to the toilet (which is downstairs in our house), then finding it incredibly hard to get back to sleep as I then feel wide awake. Or going to bed at 10pm and not drifting off ’til bloody 3am or 4am. Grrrrrrrrr! And because I'm then tired during the day, I’ll often nod off mid-afternoon whilst watching TV with the other half…which of course then has the knock-on effect of me not sleeping properly at night again. Arghhhh.
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Could 2022 be the year that we finally hit the dizzy heights of a fourth place finish or, heaven’s above, a European (Europa League) final? I do hope so for David Moyes’ sake as he 110% deserves it, as does long serving servant Mark Noble. Two people that have shown that by applying the correct amount of passion and commitment and being allowed to get on with the job
Has anyone tried it yet? No, me neither. Every time we order it, it says IN stock, then lo and behold, come delivery day, NOWT. Come on, Tesco, pull your finger out and deliver me my bloody (non alcoholic) stout.
NEW YEAR, NEW... As we enter another new year and try to put everything that’s been negative from the previous year behind us, we all start thinking about how we can improve things/improve ourselves (new year, new you etc.). Of course, sometimes certain aspects of our lives may be out of our own hands to control and improve. But think about it, to not feel down about that fact is an improvement in itself. For instance, how many times have you, or still do you, become anxious, wound up and even angry due to circumstances beyond your own control? As someone older and much wiser than me once said: "Don't worry about things you can't control. Just focus on the things you can." It’s a simple statement, but obviously not always that simple a task/mindset to carry out in practice. But the older I get, I do try and implement that advice into my everyday life and to be truthful, over the last few years, it's kept me of sound mind. Just a little pearl of wisdom from your Uncle Jan there!
JACK REACHER TV SERIES Finally, the wait is almost over. Come 4th February on Amazon Prime, Jack Reacher comes to town bringing his own measure of justice and vengeance to sort out the bad guys. I honestly can't wait for that. So be lucky. Stay safe. And here’s wishing you all a very Happy New Year. G.P. x The Edge 077 646 797 44
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Refill Chelmsford (see page 3) opened in 2020 for the simple reason that they, as a family, were using far too much single use packaging, especially plastic. They'd become aware of the problems of plastic ending up in our oceans and breaking down into smaller micro plastics, affecting wildlife and entering our food chain. Recycling plastic is a bit ‘hit and miss’ and the only certain solution was to reduce plastic usage. The initial take-up at Refill was amazing and they soon had a loyal, regular customer base of likeminded folk visiting their Bond Street store, but during and since the onset of the pandemic, there has been an upward shift of interest in zero-waste shopping and in Refill’s ethical and sustainable products. Alongside their regular customers, they also noticed an increasing number of people visiting the store saying they were fed up with the amount of plastic packaging they had to get rid of each and every week, and they wanted to do something about it. “It definitely feels like more and more people are tired of waiting for supermarkets and government to take action, so instead they are taking action themselves by making conscious changes to their shopping habits,” says co-owner Jan Lawrence. “We're not in the business of telling people what they should do, but we do offer options and solutions if we can. That’s why I suggest to everyone to make a few small changes in their lives, rather than trying to alter everything all at once. “At my home, I started with the bathroom and today it’s completely plastic free. I use a shampoo and conditioner bar, along with bars of soap and toothpaste in a jar, but our teenage kids prefer liquid refills for their shampoo, conditioner and body wash. Which is fine, as everyone’s different. “Coming into the store for the very first time, some customers often don't know where to start, so we're more than happy to chat through the options available to find out what might suit them best. “The true beauty is that you can try a small amount of our products before committing to filling an entire bottle. “I honestly didn't foresee quite what a ‘community feel’ Refill would develop, but when you consider that everyone who shops with us has the same goal in mind - doing their bit towards preventing more pollution of the planet - then it makes perfect sense. But what's been most eye opening is that we are all just regular, busy people trying to find the time to make that little extra effort to shop more consciously.” It’s crystal clear that a growing number of people within the community are embarking upon a journey together, shopping locally, considering the sustainability of their purchases and what will happen to those products at the end of their usefulness. Because remember, there is no 'away' when you throw something away! So if you are looking to join the Refill Revolution in 2022, why not pop in and see them. There's always lots of chat, laughter, thrills and spills - well, spills at the very least!
Chelmsford City Walking Football Club (CCWFC) has been around since the inception of the game in 2012. Walking football is aimed at the over 50’s and the club has over 80 members, ranging from 51 years of age to almost 80. It’s a 6-a-side game, with all the skills of 11-a-side, except players cannot tackle, put the ball over head height, or, most importantly, run! Therefore it forces players to be good at close-control, passing and positional play. CCWFC are a proud part of the main Chelmsford City F.C. family and largely exist to offer recreational football to anyone over the age of 50. It doesn’t matter if they have never played before, are recovering from a health condition, or simply just want to get fitter. The club trains for 2 hours on both Tuesdays and Thursdays at the 3G pitch, Melbourne Park, Chelmsford. Of course, the club also has a more competitive dimension, boasting both the England over 60’s and England over 65’s captains in its ranks. The club plays in the Essex Walking Football League and national cup competitions, regularly fielding two over 60 and two over 65 teams. In fact, CCWFC can claim impressive competitive success over recent seasons, being over 60’s Essex champions in 2018, Essex Age UK Cup winners in 2019 and over 65’s National Cup finalists, as well as being Essex over 65’s champions in 2021. . So, whether you are simply looking for a decent excuse to get off the couch to get a bit fitter and meet new folks, or you still have a competitive thirst for silverware, CCWFC might be just the place for you.
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For more information go to the website www.ccwfc.co.uk or telephone Chris on 07850 725691.
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On another one of our mini-trips away in our grand quest to find ‘somewhere else to live’ we discovered the memorable locations of both Castle Combe (though it is down in a bit of a dip) and Lacock, in Wiltshire, and even non-Harry Potter fans, like me, will probably recognise this amazing ceiling (right)? Here’s what it says in a little pamphlet we picked up: ‘Lacock Abbey cloister rooms were used for several scenes in the early Harry Potter movies, including the Mirror of Erised and Professors Snape and Quirrell’s classrooms. The cloister walks were used as Hogwarts corridors, while in the village itself, the filming of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince took place over 3 nights, with Harry and Dumbledore walking through the locality after their meeting with Slughorn.’ And what a village Lacock is. People actually live there, yet scenes from Cranford, Downton Abbey, Pride & Prejudice, Moll Flanders and The White Princess have all been filmed there. And who did I have to thank for telling me there even was such a place as Lacock? Why, one of the girls on reception as we were checking out of the Premier Inn in Frome (Somerset) and heading over to the next county (east) along. “Is there anything or anywhere we must see?” I asked. Now come on, you’d imagine 9/10, or maybe even 49/50 APIR’s (average Premier Inn receptionists) would have just looked a bit blank, wouldn’t you? But this enterprising young lass genuinely thought about it for a bit, before replying with the single word, “Lacock”. So Mrs Edge and I are both deeply indebted to her. Mind you, I hardly think we could afford to live there.
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Restored to the highest standard, taking fully 5 years to complete. The coachwork alone cost £16,000 while restoration of the chrome cost a further £5,000. Immaculate chrome wheels and Michelin XAS tyres. Deep blue leather interior, dark blue carpets and walnut dashboard. New weather equipment custom-made specifically for the car by David Nightingale Coach Trimmers, consisting of new ‘stayfast’ dark blue hood, hood bag and tonneau cover. Mechanically extensively overhauled and gearbox/overdrive rebuilt. The Edge absolutely adores this beauty.
OMG, The Edge remembers this car well, as when Edge step-father ‘stole’ Edge mum off sedate Edge (Austin Cambridge driving) dad, this is what he rocked up in, wearing a big wooly sheepskin! Exceedingly rare 1500 coupe. Full body nut-and-bolt restoration. 65,000 miles on the clock. A charismatic little runner.
Super stylish. Looks a bit like a mini-version of the 1958 Plymouth Fury in the movie ‘Christine’ (based on a Stephen King novel) that The Edge absolutely adores. 1962 model. Dry-stored and only driven to/from summer shows. High quality restoration carried out by Trojan Cars (Hampshire) including a £7,200 professional repaint. Fitted with preferred 1500 engine and upgraded gearbox. Drives superbly.
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In an age where black and silver 911’s can be found almost everywhere, this extremely low mileage 3.8 2013 model is a real head-turner. Features an incredibly long list of optional extras, including an Aerokit, black alloys, contrasting tinted panoramic sunroof and glass. Just 2 previous owners and only 10,000 miles on the clock. Looks and feels like a brand new car. But it’s not an Austin Healey!
Yet another motor from The Edge’s childhood as my Uncle Bertie, who was a farmer, had a car that looked exactly like this which he kept under a tarpaulin in one of his barns, and he said my mum could have it when she passed her test. Well, it took her 5 times to do that, by which time my poor old uncle had croaked, so she never got it! This model is the actual car regularly featured in ‘Last of the Summer Wine’ and has been driven by Dame Thora Hird herself. Impeccably preserved. An outstanding model for the collector. Excellent engine and mechanical order.
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to own an electric daily commute to go out and buy a fuel propelled ‘engine’ to keep as a weekend fun vehicle instead, that may evoke particular memories whether as a car once owned, or perhaps it used to be a poster on our bedroom wall. Fairmont Sports and Classics was a £3m investment converting a large two-storey warehouse into a retro themed indoor car showroom, displaying 60 rare, high quality classic and sports cars with a strong emphasis on delivering reliable, enjoyable motoring for those who wish to use their purchase regularly, whilst others will prefer to enjoy the investment potential that these cars certainly offer in spades. Buying 40 year old cars that are worthy of ownership is a challenge even for us, with our lifetime skills and knowledge of the industry. But Fairmont was formed to source only the very best vehicles in the market place that will provide a highly desirable experience for our customers, supported by our fully equipped workshop and paint-shop facilities. We look forward to hearing from you. Telephone: 01277 563561
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Fairmont Sports and Classics was born from a lifetime of working in the motor industry with a love of interesting and fun cars from an exciting generation, writes David Scarborough. The 80’s and 90’s were fun years when we ‘saved up‘ and bought our cars with our hard earned, saved cash, long before the days of accessible loans and subsidised funding schemes which younger generations benefit from today. We didn’t have modern cars as these were reserved for our parents. As a result, we used to love and treasure them, regardless of how battered they were, and enjoyed the freedom and fun that the quieter roads, void of speed cameras, used to allow us. We didn’t have mobile phones, so our cars were our life. As with previous generations, these cars of the past are now objects of desire and prices continue to surge in value. Historically enthusiasts and investors would be buying such cars. However, there is an emerging desire by those of us who feel pressured
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DEAKS
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FORMULA ONE It is safe to say that I am not the biggest Lewis Hamilton fan. Anyone who says their dog is vegan and feeds them a plant-based diet is a few slices short of a full loaf in my book. Not eating meat to help reduce your carbon footprint whilst jetting around the world racing Formula One cars also smacks of hypocrisy to my mind. But despite the fact that he is a bit of a wally, he really is a damn good racing car driver and last month he really should have cemented his place as the most successful champion of all-time by securing his eighth world title.
Going into the final race in Abu Dhabi, Hamilton was tied on points with his closest rival, Max Verstappen, but was behind him in the standings by virtue of countback with Verstappen having won more individual Grand Prix during the course of the season. Hamilton was second on the grid after qualifying, but took the lead after Verstappen forced him off the track in the early part of the race. Hamilton was then briefly held up by
Verstappen’s teammate, Perez, towards the middle of the race, but was able to regain the lead and, by lap 30, there was a convincing margin between him and his rival. Under a virtual safety car, Verstappen changed his tyres and effectively then had 20 laps to chase down Hamilton’s 17 second lead. He was making progress, but probably not enough, and as the race entered its final phase the gap still stood at 11 seconds. However, that is when the drama unfolded. Nicholas Latifi crashed with 6 laps remaining and the incident took almost the entire remainder of the race to clear. Initially that looked as though it would benefit Hamilton, as it looked as though the lapped cars would remain between Hamilton and Verstappen, only for the race director, Michael Masi, to take the decision to clear those lapped cars and effectively create a 1 lap shootout between Hamilton and Verstappen for the title. But remember, Verstappen had changed his tyres, giving him more grip, so he was able to overtake Hamilton (despite a valiant effort from Hamilton) to win the race and take the drivers crown. The decision taken by the race director is seemingly in conflict with FIA’s rules and the feeling is that he controlled the race for entertainment purposes and to create a new champion in Verstappen in order to boost viewing figures next year.
Which may very well be the case, but it leaves a very sour taste in the mouth. Whatever the views are on Lewis Hamilton as an individual, it doesn’t take away the fact that coming out of that final race he should be walking away with his record eighth world title.
DECLAN RICE It is easy to get carried away with the hype surrounding new, young talent, especially when the player wears your own team colours, but watching Declan Rice week in, week out, really highlights what an exceptionally good footballer he is. I think for England he has a more disciplined role, protecting the back four, but at West Ham he has far more freedom and that helps him control games from the middle of the park. He rarely loses a tackle, can really pick out a pass and glides past other Premier League rivals with ease.
Over the years I have seen a number of players graduate from the West Ham ‘academy,’ including the likes of Rio Ferdinand, Michael Carrick, Joe Cole and Jermain
Defoe, but I am telling you now that Declan Rice is by far the best out of that lot. He is only 22 years old and sadly I don’t think it will be too long before he moves to another club to challenge for titles. But he has been the driving force behind West Ham’s rise up the table and the progression we have made in the cup competitions, so naturally I will be gutted to see him leave. However, if he makes the right choices about his future, then I genuinely think he could go on and become the best midfielder in the world. Now you might think I am smoking something with a statement like that, but this article is in print and I will come back to it in 10 years time to see if my prediction is correct. In the meantime, I just hope West Ham can hang on to him for as long as they can and we get to see some more incredible performances from him in Claret & Blue.
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MESSAGE TO BILLY-BOY: You’re forgetting one thing, William. THE EDGE won’t be here in another 10 years!
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ONLY JOKING!
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Welcome to 2022, which frankly is unlikely to be any different from the preceding 5 years, which has seemed as if we are all living on the backlot of Universal Studios. I mean, just look at what we’ve all been living through? It’s as if we’re all part of a real-life ‘Truman Show’ with the main performers being the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (Pestilence, Famine, War and Death) together with a Children’s Crusade led by blah blah blah Greta Thunberg. Just about everything we’ve experienced in the past 5 years has been either film based or previously portrayed in fiction novels. For instance, ‘The Covid 19 Pandemic’ has clearly followed the script of the 2011 film ‘Contagion’ - not to mention the 2005 novel ‘Lockdown’ by Peter May. The US Election of 2017 was a mix of many films, but essentially followed the themes of ‘American Dreamz’ (2006) and ‘Idiocracy’ (2006) when a reality TV star becomes the US President and look where that got the world. We have clearly now entered the ‘Universe of Deep Impact’ (1998) in which we are now aiming space rockets at asteroids to change their direction. This NASA project, called the Double Asteroid Redirection test, or DART, has been co-developed by the John Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory plus a number of NASA agencies and is being used to knock a crater in an asteroid to throw it out of orbit. Well, if you’ve seen ‘Deep Impact’ you’ll know it doesn’t all go to plan, so we’ll all have to hope that the DART project doesn’t follow the film script and push the asteroid directly into earth’s orbit.
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Here’s another interesting fact; in October 2017, before all this started, the Haleakala Observatory in Hawaii identified an interstellar object travelling through the Solar System. It’s official designation 1/2017 U1 didn’t sound at all interesting, but the more the astronomers observed its behaviour, the more they became convinced that this interstellar object acted more like a visitor to the solar system rather than a random comet, asteroid or meteor. Being almost 1000metres long and cylindrical in shape, the object exhibited phases of acceleration, deacceleration and changes in its luminosity totally unlike other orbiting bodies within the solar system. They renamed the object Oumuamua (Hawaiian for Scout) and proposed that it may have been the remnant of an Alien Vessel, or even part of one. Professor Avi Loeb - the wellrespected US Physicist and Head of
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the Harvard Smithsonian Centre for Astrophysics - has recently argued that Oumuamua is possibly an alien artifact, while other observers have proposed that the object may have originated in the vicinity of the star Vega in the Lyra constellation and may have been travelling through interstellar space for over 600,000 years. ‘First Contact’? NO! ‘A Close Encounter’? NO! A close fly by? QUITE POSSIBLY. Once again, the Oumuamua fly by follows the script of ‘Rendezvous with Rama’, the 1973 novel by Arthur C. Clark. The real question is, is life imitating art, or is it the other way around? There’s a lot of strange things out there in the cosmos. Take a look at Tabby’s Star. This object, over 1400 light years away, was first identified in 2015 (courtesy of the Kepler Space Telescope) which exhibits unusually high fluctuating levels in its brightness or luminosity (over 20%) that could not be explained by the presence of dust clouds, local planets, or nearby stars. Various astronomers have proposed that the intermittent reduction in this bright star’s luminosity could possibly be explained by a large alien megastructure, such as a massive orbiting disc - no, I kid you not! This explanation mirrors the 1970 novel ‘Ringworld’ written by Larry Niven. The cause of Tabby’s Star variation in luminosity has still not yet been satisfactorily explained. But guess what? Tabby’s Star (named after the astronomer Tabitha Boyajian) is not alone. This year they discovered another one - Epsilon Aurigae even further away towards the centre of the galaxy which exhibits even higher fluctuations in luminosity, and YES, the current theory is that the star’s brightness is being affected by a massive orbiting flat disc. So, the question being asked is, Are we alone in the Universe? Unlikely. Will we ever meet another alien species? Unlikely.
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W
e ll goddamn it, another year has passed. As 2021 dawned vaccines were about to be rolled out and we were bound to have Covid in the rear mirror by J1 2022, right? Wrong, as it turns out. This bloody virus is not done with humanity yet and still wants to have some more fun at our expense. Tricksy little bastard, isn’t it?
And that’s why this particular argument has arisen again. We are currently in a dreadful pandemic. It’s a time when serious leadership and management ability is required. Unfortunately we are stuck with yet another posh boy from Eton who has neither ability nor personal integrity, but certainly does have a huge sense of entitlement.
Now that we know so much more about the virus, is anyone seriously prepared to predict that in another twelve months it definitely will be over? No, me neither. But let’s not dwell on that unpleasant thought and hope that all those not medically exempt, who won’t get a vaccine, will have second thoughts about being such selfish dicks. Such a change of heart would be a big step towards helping us to whatever the new normal will eventually be.
This column’s thoughts on Johnson’s utter incompetence and unfitness for the job he holds have been made many times before, so we’ll not go down that path too far. However, the wider point does need making again.
Your ‘personal freedom, innit’ is all well and good if you are a hermit living in a cave in the middle of nowhere. But you aren’t. You’re living with thousands of other people in close proximity and you have a responsibility as a human being to think about the common good. Unless you are a selfish dick, as we might have said previously. But it’s a point worth repeating.
For some reason the UK voters are in thrall to those who went to Public School. One third of MPs went to one. One third. Yet only just over 5% of the general population did. “So what?” you may ask. Well, here’s what.
The reason that public schools are so named in the UK is somewhat convoluted and not very interesting, so ask Uncle Google if you really want to know. Much more pertinent is the role such institutions play in the way the UK has
Enough already. At this time of year it’s usual in columns of this sort to look back on the past year, focus on the highs and lows and then take a stab at predicting what the coming twelve months might bring. But let’s face it, 2021 was a real bummer in many respects and there’s no indication 2022 will be much better. So let’s ignore that tradition and instead take a long hard look at something that has raised its head every few years for decades. It has come to the fore again in more recent months for reasons that will become obvious. Public Schools.
Meanwhile, us plebs sit in semi-poverty, but happy enough because there’s competitive cake baking on TV and there are ‘clever’ people in charge. Shame on us.
Now, let’s start with the name. Public Schools are exactly the opposite of what it says on the tin. The likes of Eton and Harrow want nothing to do with us smelly oiks. The people they are interested in are families with money. Lots of it. It’s true that these days they don’t care if the money (and pupil) comes from Surrey, China or India. To paraphrase MLK, the time has arrived when a pupil is judged not by the colour of his/her skin, but on the size of daddy’s wallet. Is that some sort of progress? Not really, one would hazard. ‘Twas ever thus. Out here in the US the term ‘public school’ is very Ronseal. They are the establishments of learning where anyone born to parents that aren’t Wall Street BSDs, drug dealers or delivery service entrepreneurs go. That is, Joe Public in all the variants. Black, white, brown, clever, stupid - whatever. If your parents aren’t minted, you go to a public school.
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
Does anyone really believe the likes of Johnson and Rees-Mogg went into politics as a service to their fellow man? Of course they didn’t. They went into it because their superiority over us plebs had been beaten into them at Eton and a place in the cabinet was their birthright, no matter whether they were up to the job or not. A timely exit will be made at the appropriate time to cash in on a corporate job thanking them for services rendered, a book deal and the after dinner speaking circuit. This is all foretold in the stars for the Public Schoolboy.
been run for centuries. And indeed, still is. Anyone that has come across the products of British public schools in a face to face situation will have identified a type. Above all else, they are unfailingly confident people. Nothing wrong with that. Confidence gets you a long way in life, as long as it’s tied to some personal integrity and a skill or two. In fact, state schools could do their charges a whole lot of good by teaching the ability to be confident when interacting with people of all ages and in various situations. The problem arises when the confidence that the Public School has injected into its pupil boils over into arrogance and a sense of entitlement. Particularly if that arrogance and entitlement is not allied to any noticeable ability.
We have to be switched on enough to drop our party allegiances when elections come around, do some due diligence and then put our cross next to the candidate that has already achieved a little in life and wants to be an MP to give something back to society. We must not blindly endorse the Public Schoolboy who has done naff all so far, but speaks nicely. For he cares not one jot for your problems. His career is infinitely more important and after you’ve given him your vote he will screw you over, laugh at your stupidity for following the rules (have you seen the Christmas Party video?) and treat you like one of his fags. (Look it up - it doesn’t mean what you think in this context). But, sadly, it seems the British (well, the English at least) have an inbuilt inferiority complex at a personal level and a bit of forelock tugging comes very naturally. So the scenario laid out above isn’t going to happen and far too many of us are prepared to bend over and ask for another. Happy to be fags for the posh boys. We get the politicians we deserve.
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ANDREW ELEY
knight challenges a former friend to a duel to the death after his wife accuses his friend of rape. The story is told from three points of view; the knight’s, the accused’s, and finally the victim’s, which is the ‘true’ version of events. It’s makes for an interesting spin on a classic medieval setting and despite the focus on character development, the film still delivers brutal battles and an excellent final duel, even if arguably its hard to end up rooting for either side.
If you are wary of heading to the local multiplex with the Omicron variant doing the rounds at the start of this brand new year, worry ye not, film fans, as there’s plenty of quality movies to stream from the comfort of your own home. Here’s a few of the very best you can view right now...
WRATH OF MAN (Amazon Prime) After a series if miss-fires, finding box office success again with Disney’s Aladdin and giving us last years excellent The Gentleman, director Guy Ritchie re-teams with Jason Statham to deliver this hardboiled LA noire crime thriller. Whereas Lock-Stock, Snatch and The Gentleman where mostly played for laughs, despite their gritty settings, Wrath of Man is played completely straight, with ‘The Stath’ seeking brutal vengeance (whilst wearing a natty cardigan) on the criminal gang who killed his son during a botched armed robbery.
For fans of Ritchie’s work, you will be pleased to learn that despite the serious tone, it’s still full of his trademark one-liners, such as ‘put your arsehole back in your arsehole’ or ‘are you alright, Dave, or did you make a poo-poo?’ Hardly highbrow, but a fun, good old-fashioned, brutal crime flick.
THE LAST DUEL (Disney Plus) Sir Ridley Scott delivers another of his sweeping sword and sandles epics, although this is a very different beast to Gladiator and Kingdom of Heaven etc. Based - somewhat loosely, I’d imagine - on the true events of France’s last trial by combat, a
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THE GREEN KNIGHT (Amazon Prime) Sticking with the medieval theme, The Green Knight is based on an Arthurian legend as Sir Gawain embarks on a perilous journey to confront the mysterious Green Knight after a challenge is laid down at the round table. The Green Knight is a deeply philosophical film which uses stark imagery and dream like settings to ask the viewer to question life, death, and the passing of time. It’s a true art-house experience which clearly won’t appeal to everyone, but if you let go of trying to understand its unconventional narrative and simply absorb it, it’s a truly wild ride.
THE SUMMIT OF THE GODS (Netflix) Hidden away on Netflix, far away from the usual Squid Game and Selling Sunset, is this little gem of a movie. It’s rare to see hand drawn animation these days, even rarer for it to focus on serious material; in this case, man’s continual drive to attempt to conquer Mount Everest. Based on a graphic novel and free from the restrictions of needing to film on the perilous slopes of the formidable rock, the talented animators and painters manage to create breathtaking vistas and vertigo inducing camera sweeps to bring the harsh reality of attempting the climb to the screen. This movie doesn’t try to give an answer as to why mankind attempts to climb, other than the fact that it is simply there. And when you come to think about it, perhaps it’s the only reason anyone ever needs. A true work of art.
CODA (Apple TV) Which means children of deaf adults, doesn’t sound like the most fun of storylines on paper, does it? But it’s here we follow the daughter of deaf parents whose fishing business is struggling financially. Coda is, however, a wonderful coming of age drama which is funny, inspiring and uplifting. This movie has received some glowing reviews and I absolutely concur that it is a stand-out as one of the best films of the year. It’s just a shame that not many people are likely to give it a go.
Not one, but TWO FULL BINS of bagged up dog poop. However, first up, The Edge has no time whatsoever for silly, squeamish people who take one look at the photograph above, turn up their noses and go: “Oh no. That’s gross. Why on earth has The Edge published that?” I’ll tell you why. It’s because it shows that not every dog owner is a thoughtless, selfish, cretin who’s not fit to own a pooch, that’s why. And it’s a shame the same cannot be said for ALL dog owners. Now while The Edge is willing to bet that the vast majority of you are genuinely very decent people who like to do the right thing....hang on, not ‘like’, as such, because who likes picking up a warm, freshly laid dog egg, eh? But you ‘get’ where The Edge is coming from, surely? You simply willingly accept that ‘poop collection’ goes with the territory of owning a dog. So it’s the remainder of you The Edge is having a pop at. Yes, you know who you are. All of you out there reading this who don’t give a shit about shit. Yet it’s a fact of life; buy a dog and you’ll have their turds to contend with, as it’s your absolute duty. Let me ask you this, would you defecate on your own living-room floor? And then, a bit later on, when you‘ve somehow forgotten what you’ve done, absentmindedly tread in it and walk it about the house? Surely not. But that’s exactly what happens if you don’t pick up after your pooch, and none of us wants to contend with dog eggs, right? Do you know how The Edge would tackle this problem? You know when you get a puppy and it’s all sweet and cuddly to begin with, only when it poops in the home, you train it not to by rubbing it’s face in it? Well then, what’s good for the dog has surely got to be good for any of you thoughtless dog owners out there? Because the fact is, it’s an utter disgrace how some folk think they can get away with owning a pooch without owning their ‘pooch poop’ as well. So do think on next time you go walkies.
The Edge 01245 348256
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THE BOSS
KiNGPiN
I’ll be honest with you, for most of my life I’ve avoided any real responsibility, both at work and in my personal life. I was always happier just wandering through life and taking it as it came. Any choices I made or decisions I took only really affected me, so as a consequence I was free to make whatever choices I liked, within reason, of course. I’ve had a very easy life and I took pains to make sure it stayed that way as much as I possibly could. I’ve never really wanted much, or wanted to do or be anything special, which certainly made my life more relaxed. Some might think this was a selfish life, and it probably was, but you won’t convince me that’s a bad thing. Some might say I was unambitious, which is also true, but you won’t convince me that’s a bad thing either. Having to ‘do’ something or ‘be’ someone, for life to have a purpose, is, in my humble opinion, a foolish notion. There’s no real purpose to life at all. It just is, and it’s enough to just live, to experience, and to enjoy yourself. But I digress. Because nowadays, of course, my life is completely different and for the past 6 years I’ve been responsible for helping to raise 2 children, running a home, and taking care of a dog. Obviously my fiancé and the kids are at the top of my list, but looking after a big dog, and doing it properly, is a full-time job in itself. As much as Daffy is a genuine sweetheart, she’s still 30 kilos of solid muscle and strong jaws, so as well as keeping her healthy and happy, I have to make sure everyone around her is safe as well. It was definitely an adjustment for me to go from pretty much doing whatever I liked, whenever I liked, to carefully weighing my decisions, planning my time around other people and, trying, to put them before me as much as possible.
The thing is, I found I liked it and (I think) I’m actually pretty good at it most of the time. So, while I’m now a responsible grown-up in my personal life, I’d still managed to dodge that bullet in my professional life. At least until very recently. As of October ’21 I’ve been officially running my team. As well as doing my own work, I now have people reporting to me, and I have to do all that ‘management’ type stuff of personal development reviews and action plans
our lives in around work, rather than the other way around, has sadly become normalised, but it’s a shitty, damaging practice that needs to stop.
The Kingmeister reports
and the like. So I’m having to make another adjustment in so far as, after 20 odd years of working, the buck now stops with me. Due to how busy we all are, particularly my own manager, I still haven’t had a proper sit-down to discuss what I’m supposed to be doing and I’m pretty much making it up as I go along. From what my team say, it looks like I’m doing an OK job of it so far, because I’m putting them first as much as I can. However, it remains to be seen how good of a job the company think I’m doing. If we’re snowed under and my team ask if they should work late to catch-up, I say no. They get the 10th email that morning saying something is urgent and needs to be done ASAP, I say no, and it’ll just have to get scheduled in with everything else we’ve got on our plates. If we pick up a call that’s clearly someone being too stupid or lazy to do what we’ve told them to do a dozen times already, they automatically go to the back of the queue, and that person is politely but clearly reminded the issue is of their very own making. We’re being paid to solve genuine problems, not wipe people’s arses. I make it very clear that if we’ve got too much work being thrown at us to cover in our 7.5 hours a day, then that’s the companies’ problem to solve, not ours. If anyone is feeling like work is getting on top of them I tell them to walk away for as long as they need. Need to disappear for an hour to deal with some personal stuff, go for it. Want to finish up early on a Friday? Fine, fill your boots. I’m actually on the verge of becoming a bit militant about it all and I think this is because I’m responsible for them, and while I’ll make sure we’re providing the best service we can to the company, I’ll always put them first every time. During the first year of the pandemic I stupidly worked myself to the point of ill-health. Sorry, let me clarify that. I stupidly let the company exploit me to the point of ill-health. If someone says ‘burn-out’ to you, then please call them out on it, because burn-out suggests some sort of mental fragility on your own part, which simply isn’t true. If someone is burnt-out, then they’ve been exploited by their employer, plain and simple.
I like my job and I like the company I work for, but they’re just as guilty of this as anyone else. As I’ve said, this expectation of people regularly working longer than they should, taking on more than they should, is business as usual now, so it’ll be hard to turn that around, but not impossible. Part of my job does require me to work out of hours, that’s the nature of what I do, but I’m only going to do that when it genuinely needs to be done, not as a matter of course. If I’ve still got stuff outstanding when 5.30pm rolls round, then it’ll stay outstanding until the following day, and if people start pulling me up on it, I’ll tell them quite plainly I’m not working longer hours because the company won’t resource us properly. I’m sure that won’t go down very well, but to be honest, I don’t really care. If me not doing exactly what I’m contracted to do isn’t good enough, then we can discuss changing my contract, or tell me straight up that they expect me to work over my hours for no extra renumeration. At which point I’ll say “no” and we’ll see what happens then. I’m not going to be a dick about it, but I’m going to be crystal clear about what I’m willing to put up with and that I’ll be quite happy to go and work somewhere else if I need to. Remember that work interfering in your life doesn’t just affect you, but your families as well. We might have signed a contract with our companies, but our wives, husbands and kids didn’t, so why on earth should we let our work affect them too?
It’s a truly horrible feeling when work takes over the rest of your life and you end up in that weird state of mind where you’re utterly exhausted and at the same time too wired to properly relax. I won’t let that happen to me again, and I’m going to do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen to any of my team either.
Unlike Zammo from Grange Hill, 2022 is going to be a year of saying “no” for me, and I hope lots of other people do it too. If the pandemic has shown us anything, it’s that our health isn’t guaranteed and that any of us can check-out at any time, so hopefully more of us will start using that time to be with our families and doing the things we want to do, rather than using that free time just to recover from the working week.
Too many employers contract people for 40 hours a week knowing full-well they’ll be giving them 60 hours of work to do. Working longer hours than we’re supposed to, fitting
So put those boundaries in place and look after yourselves. Put yourselves and your families first, because most of your employers won’t.
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Max Headroom’s
BIZARRE NEWS
A mischievous cow appears to have escaped from a slaughterhouse in Brazil and found its way into a nearby Water Park (it must have had a key for the padlock, surely?). But though it managed to evade death, the huge animal risked collapsing a tall flume which it awkwardly trotted down on its knees. Luckily, the slide - reportedly only designed to hold 450 pounds - held firm under the cow’s (roughly) 700 pound weight. The animal’s unlikely dash for freedom had a happy ending some 500 miles west of Rio de Jainero, where a ranch owner adopted it and named it Tobogã (which is ‘Slide’ in Portuguese). The cow is now likely to become a family pet (well, you’ve got to take said ranch owner at his word, haven’t you, and trust he’s simply not after some cheap steak). Video footage shows the slide-loving cow shifting its beefy frame around a bend, with a local newspaper reporting that it had climbed the steps and eventually slid down into the pool. The cow seemed to enjoy soaking up some sun on the flume a whole lot better than the alternative. As it happens, Brazil is the largest exporter of beef in the world, which dramatically increases its emission levels and deforestation, partly because of the harmful impact that clearing vast areas of land for farming has. Cows are no strangers to making bold escapes from slaughterhouses and in June of last year, at least four people were injured in Bolivia when the animals ran wild following an escape from a crashed van bound for an abattoir. But hey, this cow surely deserves to live out its remaining days in peace with a cigar, don’t you think?
2022 will probably be the last year of The Edge, so let’s truly celebrate fogeyism by all you 65+ readers sending in your snaps, as this could be your last chance to appear anywhere that’s the local equivalent of Playboy. And the more interesting the photograph, the better, so try to use a little imagination. And hey, if you’re chairbound, well then, you’ll have to use even more imagination, won’t you? But that doesn’t exclude you. No way. So get your asses into gear and get those photo’s sent in, fogeys. The Edge is anxious to see ’em!
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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3 GIANT ‘PENIS GARDEN ORNAMENTS’ STOLEN FROM SHOP OOP NORTH Three RBK’s (reet big knobs) have been stolen from a shop oop north following complaints from locals about the 3ft high concrete phallus’. The incident promptly led to a ‘FREE WILLY’ campaign with photographs of concrete cocks appearing online in various Teeside locations. The shop owner, from Yarm, insists he keeps them more for sentimental value these days and that some shoppers purchase them in order to make alternative water fountains in their back gardens. “They used to be very popular back in 2010,” he said, “and I used to stock them in three different sizes; small, medium and large. “But their popularity amongst the locals started to wane after a few folk started to complain after I arranged some penis statues in my shop’s main window. “I never meant to offend anyone. “But there’s nowt as queer as folk and that’s the truth.” The Edge 01245 348256
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MOTCO
Man on the Clapham Omnibus LAND
This little idea has been banging around in my head for some time and it is constantly brought back to me each time I visit Southend. As you know, I generally go there for Rossi ice-cream and the casino. Now in the name of balanced journalism (“Oh stop all that journo mumbo-jumbo, Motty. Enough already. Signed, EE.”) I must point out that other ice-creams are available. Sadly, I must also point out that most of them are rubbish and once again remind you there is no room in life for bad ice-cream.
But it is only when you see these places with ‘adult eyes’ when you take your children to them that the mask slips. For starters, there is a plethora of signs banning smoking, small groups gathering, no dinks on the machines, no banging the machines, no tilting and the signs just go on and on and on. Meanwhile, sitting in mission-control, waiting to give you change, and looking bored beyond any normal limits, is often the owner, usually surrounded by loads of discarded coffee cups and half smoked Benson & Hedges filter tips. He/She usually has some kind of ‘engineer’ roaming the floor. This person will often be sweating profusely from last nights ten pints and meat vindaloo, along with a bunch of keys hanging off their belt that the chief warder of the Tower of London would be jealous of. Of course, the engineer is also there to enforce the numerous rules in any way that takes their fancy to ensure you enjoy the vast non-acres of ‘land’ in this particular palace of ‘fun’. Yet this is all totally invisible to a child, but to a somewhat jaded adult, it all becomes incredibly ironic. Because within a mere five minutes you have covered all 100 square feet of the ‘land’ in question and are simply ready to move along to the next one.
So, what has been on my mind for some time and is prompted back into my consciousness every time I venture to Sarfend? As you may have already guessed from the title of this month’s piece, it is definitely something to do with ‘land’. Now we Brits have some kind of unhealthy obsession with land and ownership of said thing, don’t we? How often do you hear people say, when pontificating about their house, “We have some land, blah, blah, blah”? I have owned a house with a big garden, which was not what I would say ‘indicated land’, but what I do know is that it was just as hard work to maintain. Then you get houses “with a couple of acres”. I have a fair few friends in this particular category. Nice. But once again, it is all about the maintenance. What often tends to happen is that a small part of the garden is kept formal and the rest is, to use the current vernacular, left to nature (i.e. there may even be vagrants living in the five-foot wild grass, as who knows for sure?) Then there is proper ownership of land and I have a very dear friend who falls into this particular category. Currently it’s only about 10 acres, but a few years back it was in the hundreds of acres. But he never makes a thing about it and we often joke about the very British call of “Oi, get orf my land”. But he’s never shouted it, despite being entitled to, preferring to have a discreet and quiet word with any trespassing miscreants. So no, it is not this particular British obsession with land that I am bogged down with. It is the use of the word ‘land’ to bolt onto the end of something to indicate some type of kingdom with untold riches of whatever it is land for. For instance, think Disneyland Florida, in comparison with Chelmsford district. Chelmoland is 132 square miles, or 84,480 acres, whereas Disneyland Florida is 42 square miles, or 27,258 acres, at the time of writing. So I think Disney can rightfully add the ‘land’ thing to the end of their brand. Do you get me? But where does this sit with Southend, or in fact with an awful lot of seaside places, not to mention a growing number of retail outlets? Back to Southend-on-Sea. At one end of the seafront there used to be an amusement arcade called Funland. Now I am sure it did bring some enjoyment, but it just didn’t live up to its promise as the neon sign screamed it might. Previously it was called Dizzyland; the mind positively boggles given the small person type rides within. Yet this goes for so many seaside arcades and attractions with self-styled names such as ‘Happyland’ and ‘Joyland’ etc. and I am sure you are already forming a picture of places in your memory right this minute.
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
And now we get to retailing. We are all familiar with Poundland, right? Yet the irony here is, of course, that there are a lot of things in there that do not cost £1. So should it be renamed as ‘Up to £4.99 land’? The idea of just bolting the word ‘land’ onto the end of something is just downright lazy to my mind. It also makes the product sound cheap. Which, of course, is fine when all your products are, in fact, cheap. There was once a shop for men’s clothing called Big Clobberland. I used to see the signs for it on the way back from, yes, you’ve guessed it, Southend. But I hated it. Yet although I might have been in need of some ‘big clobber’, I wouldn’t have gone there on principal (I think it has a better name now). That said, a big retail warehouse does not imply ‘a place of freedom’ and ‘a fulfillment of dreams’ because it has the word ‘land’ bolted onto the end of it. No doubt by the time you are reading this you will also be reading newspaper stories about the usual failed annual attempts to create a ‘Winter Wonderland’ somewhere or other. Oh you know the kind of places I mean and they’re always the same. Because a moose, some fake snow and a few lights in the trees does not make said place a ‘wonderland’. For me, a true winter wonderland is when we have a dusting of snow and Crapper Anglia actually run trains to get us to Liverpool Street and back. So if you want to see people truly amazed, that’s your opportunity! And yes, I am animated about this particular subject, as things generally ending in ‘land’ simply do not deliver and generally look so ironic in their context. Only don’t get me started on any place, or shop, that styles itself as some kind of ‘world’. So, dear readers, why not launch yourselves into the brand new year and keep a close and beady eye out for all these so called ‘Palaces of Irony’. Because I, for one, am sitting here in my tracky pants, safe as houses in ‘Comfortland’. And after recent events concerning excessive consumption of all nice things, I shall temporarily be visiting ‘Lardland’. Yes, folks, Mrs Mott has indeed booked me tickets for ‘Dietland’ and I can tell you it will be as miserable as all those seaside resort places discussed in this column. Stay safe, be kind and be lucky. Yours aye,
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you to start working for him tomorrow!” And there began the best move of my life as P.A. to Mr. Wolf. At that time, people were carrying phones the size of bricks around. Mr. Wolf would say to me, “Invest in technology. Learn all you can because one day our whole lives will be controlled by our phones.” Which seemed unthinkable back then, whereas today Mr. Wolf is the largest shareholder in one of the world’s biggest technology companies and we remain good friends.
TOTALLY TRACIE DAWN OF THE METAVERSE WOW! What a year 2021 has been. I was going to write an altogether different column this month and then just as I started, Boris appeared on TV and moved us to Covid Plan-B. So we are now all back working from home (where possible), wearing masks and trying to make sense of the new rules. Everyone is so down about life all over again right now. The country is divided as to whether Boris did the Hokey Cokey at a Christmas Party while the rest of us were in lockdown going cold turkey. Plan-B? We cannot go to work, but we can go to a nightclub. We cannot take our masks off to talk, but we can take them off to sing? As Harry Shand in ‘The Long Good Friday’ once said: “You’d need a million dollar computer to work that one out.” At the back of my mind I always knew this was not over by a long chalk. However, it is far from all doom and gloom as so very much is going on in the Universe. This really is the start of something big. It’s the Big Reset. In the 1980s my first job was working for a large investment bank. The head of the bank was the real life ‘Wolf of Wall Street’. I went for my interview as a raw 17 year old, waited all day to see him, and he walked out in the late afternoon and said, “Have you got a degree?” Timidly, I replied, “No.” “Go away,” he told me. “I only want an assistant with a degree.” So I got up and handed my visitor pass back to the receptionist, who looked at me with sympathy, and then something suddenly snapped inside me. I turned round, barged into his office and he looked up startled. Then I just launched into him: “Well you cannot be employing too many bright people around here if you think a 17 year old would have a degree. I would have thought working for an investment bank that mathematics would be your strong suit, wouldn’t you agree?” And with that I turned on my heels and walked out the door. I returned home to my Auntie saying, “You have to ring this man back! He keeps ringing and ringing. He wants
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I heeded his warning and learnt to write software and code. I kept up with every bit of technology; I got excited by 3D printers. I first saw one in the 1980s when a man came to our office and printed out a pizza which we all ate. Many of you know I was one of the very first people in the UK to have a website. I never stopped learning in the world of social media. We are now moving on to the next generation. The digital age. Crypto Currency, NFTs (Non Fungible Tokens) and last and probably the most exciting, ‘The Metaverse’, which I get excited about just typing. Kids these days are already snapping up land in the Metaverse, knowing that one day they will become future billionaires. I am not quite sure if God is very happy that he is about to have a landlord though, but holographic life is coming fast. The way we shop and communicate is going to massively change. So now is the time to get a head start on it all. The Metaverse is going to be literally life changing. So start learning as much as you can about it. Start studying and learning because no-one is excluded from this exciting New World. The opportunities are there for the taking. I look back at my time working for Mr. Wolf with the greatest affection. Everyone was terrified of him as he would hire and fire upon a whim. The dealers used to bribe me to go and get their expenses signed off. I’d take a whole pile of them in at the end of the day and he would start shouting, “Why am I signing off expenses for this wine and this lunch?” And I would shout back, “Why are you asking me? Did I drink the wine? Did I eat the lunch?” So he would sigh, grin, and sign off the expenses. And the dealers would buy me flowers and champagne in return. Win-win. Fond memories of days gone by. And it’s okay to reminisce. But never dwell in the past long enough to let future opportunities pass you by. I for one am really excited about 2022. It is going to be a fantastic year for us all. So really go for it and make 2022 the best year you’ve ever had. I also want to take the time to thank all those of you who made the effort to contact me to comment on my columns last year and a special shout to Nancy, an old school friend since we were 12 years old, who contacted me when she spotted me here. I wish you all a very Happy 2022.
tracie123@aol.com
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*Take-Away desserts not included. This offer is not to be used in conjunction with any other offer 190 MOULSHAM STREET, CHELMSFORD. TEL: 01245 264038 / 354450
RUBBISH CLEARANCE
www.distrubute4u.info
SEWING
2
The Edge January 2022(2127) 2021/12/23 11:31:36
Luxury VIP event toilet trailer hire for Weddings, Corporate Events & special Occassions
www.euroloo.com 01245 475 700 | sales@euroloo.com |
@euroloo
7'1+7 +964144 )42
0795 723 6299
TREE SURGERY/FENCING ALL ASPECTS OF TREE SURGERY & FENCING All year round services covering Essex & London Hedge Maintenance Commercial & Residential Fencing Grounds Maintenance Grounds Clearances Fully Insured NPTC Qualified FREE No Obligation Quotations NEWMS GM & TREECARE 07976 431128 / 01245 463547
“Your MAN with a VAN!”
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
PORTABLE LOO HIRE
www.newmslandscapes .co.uk
WHY NOT CONTACT A LOCAL TRADESMAN YOU’VE SEEN IN THE EDGE?
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Why not refurb your existing conservatory?
CLADDING
Approved Installers