You are currently browsing the monthly archive for November, 2007.
Whoo hoo - made Gadling’s Photo of the Day with my Dublin duck shot.
As they point out, it’s not the first time I’ve been featured. Then again their kindness in letting you upload an ulimited number of pics for consideration to their Flickr pool, plus the pressure of having to find a new photo every day, probably means they do get to a point where they give up and pick one out with their eyes shut.
Also the lack of a prize means more talented phoggies might look elsewhere for their ego boost, but anyway…
Below are my Photo of the Day winners to date - Spanning Vietnam, Nicaragua, the Lake Disctrict and, most exotic of all, Gateshead.
Prompted by this recent post and this one. (Plus this one from some time ago)
For some reason I am becoming increasingly nostalgic about my previous adventures (and it’s not just me).
Sitting in our snug Heaton flat we’ve been recalling the madness of Vietnam and, later, Nicaragua.
But I am aware that, sadly, the memory is fading. Despite the blogs and the Flickr account there are some non-documented events that are all but gone.
The journey to the airport, for example, is getting hazy but there are still parts that remain vivid.
I don’t remember getting picked up but I do recall sitting in the back of a cab with the feeling that “this was it” spreading over me.
Despite being well used to the route, I tried to drink as much of it in as possible. The conical hatted ladies, which had long since just become part of my wallpaper, were once more noted. So too was the general traffic chaos and the long thin houses – particularly the posher ones by Truc Bac.
Then when we pulled away from the city I relaxed. I recalled that when I had first entered the country as a tourist, four years earlier, everywhere was rice fields. During my time there industry was making an increased impact on the environment.
The driver turned on the music. It was Vina Pop. That sickly, high energy, New Century style ick. It had been the soundtrack to so many minibus rides when I had cursed it.
Today though I asked him to turn it up. Then up again. We were laughing at the noise. He lit a cigarette and offered me one. Despite the fact that I had officially quit I accepted a Vinataba – ‘Nam’s cheap and rough smoke of choice.
I sat back. The Vina Boys belting on the radio, knocking Vinataba ash out the window and I smiled as the driver chuckled.
I texted everyone I knew back in Hanoi and described the scene, ending with “What a f*cking country”.
Before long I was at the airport. I recall ridiculously slow progress through Hanoi’s always stern customs but between us we cracked a few smiles as they puzzled over some visa details.
Then I was gone.
I know I am not the only one who has left to be haunted by my Vietnam memories and finding it hard to let go. I find myself once more scanning all the expat blogs and checking out Flickr pics (like these fabulous shots). I also keep wondering what happened to all those KOTO kids.
This weekend will see the KOTO Bike Ride – the first time in four years when it isn’t me organising it.
So. Anyone else want to share their Leaving Vietnam stories. How about you, you, you, you, you, you and you? Any thoughts on what it is that makes Vietnam just so hard to shake off?
Whether you are a member of the FA, a pundit, or you’re just a moron who rings phone-in shows, remember that whoever is appointed as the new England football manager there is still the traditional scapegoat should everything go wrong.
Should an Englishman fail then you can blame it on “too many foreigners” playing and/or managing in the Premiership.
If a foreigner takes the job then he can likewise be blamed for simply being, well, foreign and “not understanding” or “having enough passion”.
As an added bonus, this: “if in doubt, blame foreigners” approach can pretty much work in any scenario from dole queues to housing issues. From a faltering health service to over crowded classrooms.
Blaming foreigners – it means never having to say you cocked it up and is fully accepted as a genuine excuse and an unquestionable truth by Her Majesty’s Press.
Oh and it was the Russian Mafia who took those disks. Probably.
Post inspired by Bob P.
From Sam Brook’s Twitter feed:
Something tells me we’re starting to go a little over the top with the coffee thing. I love coffee. I buy takeaway. I even buy beans and grind them.
But if there is a phrase that really bugs me it’s:
“Oh I just can’t start my day unless I’ve had a coffee.”
Come on. It’s a relatively small amout of caffeine. That’s all. It’s not alcohol. It’s not nicotine. It’s not cocaine. It’s not heroin.
But, I guess that’s the significance of that Twitter quote, obviously if people are willing to queue that long then they really do HAVE TO HAVE A COFFEE.
Or maybe its just the whole British loving to queue thing. For some reason, in the three years since I’ve been away, queue dynamics have hit a whole new level with line pens popping up everywhere from M & S to Greggs.
Coffee, queues, etc. Man, we’re such suckers.
It was cold. It was wet. Damn it was expensive. But Dublin was pretty good.
As far as my weekend trip went, I couldn’t help but think it must be so much more vibrant in the sunshine but then again, when better than now to enjoy cosy pubs?
The full picture set is here.
I never thought I would see the day when a UK goverment would launch an initiative called anything as crass as British Jobs for British People.
I can’t believe that it’s the Labour Party which has reduced itself to parroting a British National Party slogan. I am not sure what Brown is up to but I reckon even Blair wouldn’t have been quite this moronic in his panderings to the Daily Mail brigade.
While I count myself as a Labour voter at heart, this is one more “never” to add to never, never, never, never again.
Following this post the good people at Belle & Herbs have responded. For the most part it speaks for itself but you’ll find a couple of brief comments from me at the end.
Dear Ourman,
The ilovebelleandherbs gals were in at the weekend and mentioned you had been in touch, and mentioned your blog to me. so i thought i’d sniff ya out.
Thanks for taking the time to blog about us, it is always useful and stimulating to receive feedback such as this. In that I felt we had been making strides to address some of the issues you raise i thought i would write ya.
I was also resident in Heaton during the ‘no decent cafe’ days. The cafe was a response to this. It was difficult to see at the beginning that we would ever have to attempt to serve the amount of customers that we do, and thus we were fairly badly-set up to cope. We are trying to address these issues.
We are currently 7 months into a 12 month development period. We initially revamped the front of house. We made major alterations to the layout gaining more floor space, whilst not putting in any more chairs, and changed most all of our furniture stock. We feel there are very few ‘bad’ seats now. We no longer allow people to wait for tables inside the cafe - as is mentioned - so that other customers aren’t crowded.
We recently moved into our beautiful new purpose built kitchen in our basement, which was the result of a 5 month building project. We will next build loads of toilets, and by using the old kitchen space and building an extension more than double the floor space in the cafe. We will be opening the space at the side of the cafe as a pavement cafe.
When we are through this development period we will be lengthening our opening hours to open earlier and close later. We will also be furthering our agenda of being a ’social business’. We already support and train a number of people with disabilities, and will be dramatically increasing this.
We really believe the improvements wont change our essential raison d’etre, or feel. We mainly hope to improve service and the speed and quality and range of our products. We do not intend to open any more cafes. This one is the first and last.. trust me.
I believe that -notwithstanding the odd mistake- we do a pretty good job. we close 4 days a year! We work hard to source excellent ethical local ingredients, and to serve you them as quickly and attractively as we can. We believe we make a large contribution to the cultural and community fabric of Heaton. We have on numerous occasions hosted charitable and regular cultural events where our services are provided free. We will be seeking to undertake a more comprehensive programme of events when we have secured the necessary permissions.
On the whole I take the comments in a positive light, as we feel most of the same frustrations you discuss. My fragile cooks ego takes slight exception to the image you have chosen to represent ‘not exactly attractive’. This is a dish called ‘eggs BEAN-addict’, the baked beans are meant to replace the hollandaise sauce of eggs benedict. It was included as a joke on the menu, but is actually on our top 5 most sold items!
I would agree that the coffee at the sky apple is really good, as is their food, ambience and staff, I would also heartily recommend that you try it. I believe that we also serve really good coffee. We stock fairtrade only, locally roasted by the venerable Ringtons. Having sold and trialed many different coffee on the market I feel this is the best we have had.
Bearing in mind some of the comments from Ourman, I am not sure that you have visited recently? If you have the chance I would recommend that you come on a week day. Whilst we can get a little busy on weekdays during the school /college holidays, It is generally no problem immediately getting a table, and there is usually plenty of time to sit and chat or read the paper. If you would like to ring before you set off we will happily advise you of the the busy-ness of the cafe, Oh and we would also happily have breakfasts ready for takeaway at 9am.
In closing I feel I must just mention your assertion that the old WHQ was better than the hacienda! I think you must have gone post 1990 when they started asking for student i.d’s as a requirement to get in ;p
love
sam
x
p.s the ilovebelleandherbs gals have been busy getting married and globetrotting. But are still regulars when occasionally home.
* Sam - thanks for your comments.
Have I been recently? Well once this summer since my return from overseas. Many a time while I was away I had dreamt of a B&H breakfast and then I returned only to find that the experience wasn’t so much fun.
However, I’m more than impressed at all your plans. I particularly am looking forward to B&H as a night time venue. Sounds fabulous - as does the outside eating area. Can’t wait for the extra space.
Thanks so much for responding in such a constructive way - you have obviously put everything into this venture and I am not sure I would have taken criticism so well.
One further suggestion - get a blog. Your own Flickr account would be cool too. Your Myspace effort is all very well but it’s all a bit 13 year old boy, no? (Sorry). I’d love to follow your efforts as an ethical business. You have a good story to tell. Hey I’d even knock you up a couple of press releases (that’s what I do) in return for a table and a suasage and black pudding butty. Yes I am that cheap.
Oh and I wish I could visit weekdays but have a job to go to. But I do have Monday off so who knows.
Finally as regards the Hacienda. You’re 3/4 correct. I loved that place so it was high praise for WHQ rather than a slating for the Hacienda. But as regards the timing (and yes I was a student), it was 89-91 and I seem to recall 89 was more fun than 91.
But I should also admit that my favourit night was Thursday’s Temperance night (ahem… otherwise known as student night). I was always more New Order than 808 State so it all got a bit glow sticks and Vicks for me at weekends.
Picture Details:
Belle & Herbs breakfast originally uploaded by rachelandrew
I was lucky enough to secure employment relatively quickly after returning home.
But I am also aware, reading the blogs of other VSO returnees, that not everyone has been so lucky.
I said it while I was initially floundering, but it is a shame that the experience of working overseas and volunteering isn’t more highly valued by employers. It says a great deal, I believe, about our little island mindset.
But without exception, the biggest complaint of all of us, is that HR departments no longer reply to unsuccesful applicants.
Apply for a job and you can find yourself waiting around for weeks before it eventually sinks in that you haven’t made the short list. This is not an on-spec request for employment I am talking about - this is an application for an advertised post.
Just when did this become common practice? Every business now, it appears, behaves this way.
Surely the least an organisation can do is to let people know that they won’t be called for interview. Sure, it’s good to save paperwork but that is what email is for, isn’t it?
Either way, it sucks. If there is any worse feeling than a rejection letter it’s the slow creeping feeling that you didn’t make the grade (but the desperate hope that perhaps there’s just been a delay).
It is a horrible situation and an awful way to treat anyone.
I recently came across Liberal Conspiracy.
Left, but not Labour Park aligned, hmmm. I was tempted.
You see though I count myself as left leaning, post Iraq it’s never again as far as the Labour Party are concerned. Gordon Brown might have kept his head down when that whole war nastiness kicked off but he still didn’t have the bollocks to speak out.
While many of the rest of us were marching, he had the perfect platform to offer his support and he instead chose a low profile. We were thinking about what was right. He was thinking about his career.
Which means I don’t want him to be our next Prime Minister. Nor anyone else on the Labour Party side who did nothing to prevent Shock and Awe and everything that followed.
Besides with puppy dog Blair out the way, Murdoch and the media have once again resorted to Labour-bashing. Not sure Brown knows what hit him. Maybe the next government is already decided - before we’ve even had the chance to vote.
For me, the only people I’d want in power, less than I want Labour, is any single member of the Conservative Party. Whatever populist noises the posh lad out front makes, he knows he can only get his own rank and file behind him by pandering to the racists and homophobes. And let’s face it, when it comes to the Iraq question they fail miserably too.
The Lib Dems? Maybe. Iraqwise they get a tick. But let’s face it, I’d just be voting for them by default. It doesn’t seem enough.
So who gets my vote? Well for the now and the foreseeable, its the comparative extremists. Probably it’s going to be mostly environmentalists. Then again if someone wants to knock on my door and tell me that they are in favour of equality and providing support to migrants and asylum seekers then I’d probably sign up to their party right after I’d finished hugging them.
Sometimes you just want to feel there are nice people out there who go with their beliefs rather than their focus groups made up of of Daily Mail and Daily Star readers.
But what of the political blogs? Well they reflect their parties, but not in the way you might expect.
The right wing blogs are all about power at any price. Everyone behind the badge regardless. There appears no real ideology - other than the pursuit of power (and ultimately cash for your friends). Just promise the earth and jump on every bandwagon going . Strangely it all seems just too Blairite.
The blogs of the left meanwhile are principaled enough to criticise the Labour Party (as well as, of course, as the Tory Party) but it does mean more knives are out for Gordon and Co than for the opposition. Dale and his mates may pretend to be genuine political commentators but, it appears, they’re little more than cheerleaders.
By virtue of simply shouting louder, Tory blogs are claiming victory except what are they winning? With their comment box cheating, their dodgy moderating and the old fall backs of crowd pleasing racism and homophobia, Nasty Partyness abounds.
In truth, if they achieve anything its only winding up the socialist blogs to the point that many have forgotten to actually write about what they believe in.
The worst sin of blogs - writing only about blogs. It seems to miss the point. There is still a war going on you know.
So anyway, I thought the non-aligned Liberal Conspiracy would be the political blog for me. I even subscribed to their RSS feed.
But a couple of days in and I’ve lost heart. The angle might be new and their hearts might be in the right place. But it’s still the same old political parties.
So now I have become one of that growing band of people. The kind of people I always used to argue with. The people who have given up on politics. Sad really.
Big party politics - it’s just brand names. I’m out.
I have been enjoying using www.lovefilm.com.
For the uninitiated you sign up. You list all the films you ever wanted to see. You pays your money and you slowly work your way through the movies.
They send you the DVD. You watch it. Return it to its envelope and then drop it in a post box. Then they send you the next one.
Simple.
So anyway, I have been watching all the movies I’d always meant to.
I recently watched Kes. As part of the ourwoman’s introduction to Tyneside we also rented Get Carter. We head to Dublin for a short break soon so I have added The Van. It’s been fun.
On the list also was Carla’s Song. A story of a Nicaraguan refugee who finds herself in Scotland before returning to her homeland to face her demons (pic above).
I had been meaning to watch it for years. Directed by Ken Loach. Filmed in my old Nica stamping ground. Starring Robert Carlyle. What’s not to like?
It’s a film split into two. Starting in Scotland and finishing in Nicaragua. The Glasgow bit was good. Then the Nica bit started up…
We laughed straight off - the first thing we heard when they touched down was “Managua, Managua, Managua,” the cry of the bus conductors heading to the capital. We’d take the bus from Granada every couple of weeks to luxuriate in the air con of the cinema.
Then the main characters settle into their hotel room. Just as Carlyle was remarking how nice it was nice, the lights went out. That happened to us a lot too.
While suffering the Newcastle November cold, the warmth of Nicaragua looked so inviting. Later, when the action switched to Esteli we recognised the town centre murals. Sandino, whose image cropped up every few minutes, seemed like an old friend.
We enjoyed it tremendously. It also prompted us to ask: “What the hell happened to us there?”
In some ways, I am still at a loss as to why our time there didn’t work. In all honesty I am a little ashamed. Sure we were somewhat isolated and under employed but the wonder of the place should have been enough to keep us interested. Shouldn’t it?
Either way we started thinking up the little things we missed. The kids of Calle Arsenal, Tona Beer, mojitos at “the Spanish place”, going up Volcan Mombacho, swimming in Laguna de Apoyo, Eskimo ice creams. Café Freezes in EuroCafe, the Nica-fayre at that buffet place just off the market square. Then there’s gallo pinto, ceviche, picos, rojita, Flora De Cana, breakfasts at Ed’s or Kathy’s.
Anyway, I’d recommend Carla’s Song, and Nicaragua to anyone. We enjoyed them both. Certainly we should have enjoyed the latter much more than we did.
But on a Friday evening with temperatures dropping to zero outside, curled up on the sofa it was a beautiful piece of escapism that jogged some very welcome memories.
Sign up to www.lovefilm.com here and, shamefully, I get a kickback.
When I was overseas and looking to move back to Tyneside, where exactly I would live was an easy choice.
Although it had been 10 years since I had been part of the Heaton community it was still where most of my friends lived.
It has a mix of people that, for the most part, works. The students are neither crusties nor chinless. The long (long long) term residents are friendly.
Then there are people like me and the people I count as friends who have moved there. Teachers, social workers, public sector types etc. I like to think we’re an easy going bunch.
When I first lived in Heaton there was single spot to go and get a bacon butty on a weekend morning. It wasn’t great so I won’t name it – but it’s still there. Now Heaton is something of a fast food centre but there is only one real hang out. Belle & Herbs.
In its early days it was a Godsend. Sundays you met your mates there. You read the papers and sipped your latte while you waited for your humongous, fabulous breakfast.
The décor was eclectic – junk shop in the best possible way. You even got proper sausages with your fry-up. Sausages with herbs in them – not just reconstituted meaty pinkness.
Such was its place in Heaton social life that it soon even spawned a blog. The extensive menu was worked through by reviewers.
On their FAQs they explained:
Essentially, it’s a fan site. It’s just slightly different in that the object of our obsession isn’t a celebrity or tv series or movie, but rather a place. The food at Belle & Herbs is absolutely wonderful — and we love good food.
Then something happened. The obvious phrase to use is “victims of their own success”.
Suddenly you could not get a table. Quite rightly, for a glorified greasy spoon, there was no booking system so you queued. Trouble is there is no real space for queuing so while you wait you just clutter up the space between tables. There you get in the staff’s way and very nearly literally lean on the shoulders of diners.
The uncomfortable space causes you to soon become irritated. Alternatively, if you’re lucky enough to be seated then it causes you, out of sheer guilt, to eat quicker to vacate your table. No more lazy breakfasts. No chat either. Heads down. Eat. Out.
In this slightly frazzled environment my own ability to become uber-irritated comes to the fore. Slow service. Arrrrrrgh. Cocked up orders. Arrrrgggh. Too stuffy. Arrrggghh. Too many people. Arrrrgh. Okay lets go. I want to get out. Now. Come on.
Then I need a lie down
Even that eclectic furniture starts to annoy. While you’re queuing you think: “Oh no, not the old knackered seat that’s too high/low for the table.”
The other worry is that the table that becomes available is a six-seater and there’s only two of you. That means. Worst thing ever. You have to share.
Again that wouldn’t normally matter. But it brings me to one of the most oft-repeated moans. Posh Jesmond students taking over.
On the “I Love B&H” site this comment is included:
Queuing for an hour behind inane yacht club-affiliated students in windcheaters who’ve driven over from Jesmond in their Xmas present from Daddy.
AKA. HELL IN THE ‘BURBS.
Otherwise, fine.
For the record, they’re wrong. Tesco Metro in Jesmond is the real hell. B&H is just hell lite.
I once heard a young well spoken lady in Tescos say to her friend: “Oh my God I’ve got a stalker. Honestly. This dirty, spotty Geordie asked me out”
But I digress…
Now live and let live and all that. Really. But the loud loud LOUD voices. The ear splitting barking laughs. The: “Oh but Sebastian we were soooo drunk.”.
If you have to share a table with them then you can’t compete. See the Boris-Johnson-alike with posh mates pic above.
So again, it’s heads down. Eat. Out.
There are other irritants although they are comparatively minor. First off the chef has an odd habit of occasionally just emptying his pan on your plate. Getting extra food is no real hardship but, at times, your plate is drowned under extra egg or beans and sometimes even sausages.
I wonder sometimes if this is also as a result of the whole overcrowding thing. Are we being compensated with extras? Paid off with pork?
Maybe their hearts are in the right place but with the already large portions it just makes you want to give up before you start eating. Plus it’s not exactly attractive.
And maybe it’s just me but in these days of obesity being such a hot topic I no longer feel quite so good about stuffing extra lard-based objects down my neck. (Yeah I know, if I cared that much I could just order cereal, but then again I could do that at home)
As a result of all of this everyone I know has stopped going. The B&H blog has gone silent for almost a year - although I emailed them and they said it was for no other reason than they have been busy. Though it does suggest a lack of enthusiasm for a place that once was Heaton’s favorite hangout.
It’s hard to know what to suggest to make it work again. You could certainly argue that as they are so full they don’t have to.
They certainly need more space. They need to open before 9am so you can get a breakfast earlier if you’re headed to work. They need to open later too.
While that may help stretch some of the trade it’s fair to say the effect might be limited. It might sound strange but what B&H really need is competition.
Sure they can sort out their slightly erratic service, their occasionally bizarre helpings and their queuing system but most of all they need another café (or four) nearby to take up some of the strain.
Best of all they should open another themselves in Jesmond and the Heatonians and err.. Jesmondonians can keep ourselves to ourselves and stop irritating each other.
Because the sad thing is, that the once great B&H is now no fun at all to eat at and I miss the place.
Particularly the sausages.
A few links, thank-yous etc: First off B&H’s MySpace thing is here. It includes enough to make me feel bad for complaining about a place that has obviously been lovingly created with the likes of my ungrateful self in mind. Sorry. Also some suggestion of progress on some of the issues outlined above is included.
The black and white B&H pics are from the very talented annette62. Thanks to B&H blog creator Meri for her input (Relax B&H she still loves you). Her mouth watering B&H Flickr shots are here.
A glowing food review (but a mention of the popularity problems) here.
Finally, Heaton photo group here.
A parcel was sent “guaranteed Saturday delivery”.
Unfortunately, with it being sent to a business address, there was no one there take personal delivery. So it wasn’t dropped off.
On Monday my customer rings me and asks where the urgent parcel is. I check with Royal Mail. They explain the Saturday situation.
But by this time it is 2pm on Monday. They tell me it is in the van to be dropped off today. But apparently not yet.
“Can you,” I enquire, “check with the van to see when they will deliver?”
“No,” they reply.
They explain they have no means of communicating with the driver once he has set off in the morning.
“Really?”
I’m quite surprised.
“So there really is no way at all of getting in touch with him? Not even in an emergency or when an urgent parcel hasn’t been delivered?”
“No, none at all,” replies the indignant, but suddenly seemingly proud, Royal Mail lady.
“We are not a courier service you know.”
Doing a Royal Mail: Promoting yourself as superior by offering a significantly poorer service than your competitors.
Even during my recent years out of the country I managed to hold onto my Newcastle United season ticket.
A friend seat-sat it and, on my return, I bought a new one to swap with him to get my old place back.
It’s a great spot. High enough to see the shape of play. Low enough to make out the players. The cheapest in the ground but with some of the best sight lines.
Next to me is a bloke that occasionally lets me have his ticket so I can take a friend. In front of me is a classic old gadgey whose rants are hugely entertaining. Alongside him are his boy (who must be 50 himself) and his mate who is suffering the new smoking ban with difficulty.
I know them all through football and we’ve sat together (breaks notwithstanding) for well over a decade now.
Most of the lads I meet up with before the game have slowly collected their seats together in a clump at the opposite end. I’ve been tempted to join them but am too attached to my current location.
There have been prats in the past who have almost ruined it for me. The racist drunk behind me wrecked countless games before I eventually decided to report him. I was as shocked as he was when the police actually moved in and arrested him at half time the following match.
While it was no less than he deserved, I’d only anticipated he’d receive a postal ticking off.
He was gone for a while before resurfacing. I guessed he’d suffered either a short-term ban or was banned for good only to get back in “on appeal”.
Either way he seems a changed character. No more racism from him and over the years he has sobered up. I forget he’s there now.
But now there is a new dick on the block. If he too was overtly racist then I’d have no qualms in reporting him.
But he’s not. Or at least not beyond making moronic jokes about the size of black players’genitalia. It’s that kind of thing. Loud, and moronic and probably mostly with the aim of being a terrace wit rather than anything more sinister.
But, it is horrible.
A few expletives I can take. I have even, broadly speaking in the past, been against efforts to try and clamp down on swearing. The whole point of football is that it is emotional enough that we all let out the occasional four letter word. I know I do.
But this…
Without wanting to go into too much detail his language is invariable at the sexual end of swearing. Lots of very, quite disturbingly, anti-women stuff, a little bit of homophobia chucked in.
For the most part, every time he opens his mouth there is an embarrassed silence on his behalf. I can’t be alone in wishing he’d shut up. I’ll admit, however, that I have heard the occasional titter in response from younger fans.
Maybe I’m just getting old. Or maybe this really is nasty stuff.
But is it my problem, not his? Are football terraces no place for the easily offended?
Would my teenage self think this guy was amusing? Even cool perhaps?
Either way my thirtysomething self hates this guy. His shouting is constant and it goes right through me. His every utterance is followed by “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP,” repeating itself in my own head.
And anyone who knows football knows the score. You’re asking yourself: if I speak to him will he only get worse to wind me up? How many of his mates are with him? If I speak to him and nothing improves then, if I report him, will he know it is me?
So here are the questions:
Should I report him to the club? Ideally they’d just send him a threatening letter but I can’t pretend I wouldn’t love to see him kicked out
Or should I just learn to live with it?
Or should I finally give up my seat?
