Funfare for the Common Man

Four weeks holiday in August. A week in Easter. Just over two weeks at Christmas. A few other days sprinkled in here and there. That’s over seven weeks of paid holiday. Yet for the past few weeks, almost every teacher has been complaining – me included – about how badly we need a holiday. This is all the evidence you need to prove that English teachers are the biggest bunch of moaners on the planet. We’re all coasting on fumes and struggling for inspiration and motivation…or so we say. The funny thing is that I felt like this at the end of July, just before my summer holiday. I expected that to rejuvenate me, and that I would come back to Kyiv fresh and raring to go in September. At this point, where to begin? I could make justifications for my unforgivable, lengthy absence - did anyone even notice? – but suffice to say that a lack of inspiration, serious writer’s bloc and a lost, directionless muse have all got in the way of my lack of motivation. I’m well into three-and-a-half ...

I leave in just a few hours for my month-long trek around eastern, central and southern Europe and I’ve yet to start packing. One of the toughest decisions is always what books to take. I take this decision very seriously and inevitably end up second guessing myself for most of the journey. As for my pre-departure reading, that’s already been completed: Evelyn Waugh’s Labels: A Mediterranean Journey . It was the perfect preparation. If I ever actually get round to writing something more substantial than this blog, I can only hope to emulate Waugh at least a little bit. His is one of the most refreshing, enlightening travelogues I’ve ever come across, and I’ve read a healthy dose of travel literature. Much of what I’ve endured over the years is good, a lot of it is utter crap, and every so often you find an undiscovered gem. Labels is one such gem. Though hardly known as a travel writer, this is easily one of Waugh’s finer works and definitely deserves a wider reading audience. ‘As...

‘What a snare this travelling business is to the young writer. He goes to some blasted jungle or other and imagines that everybody will be interested in it.’ ‘Though most of us would not write except for money we would not write any differently for more money.’ Evelyn Waugh, Labels: A Mediterranean Journey Many years ago, I harboured thoughts of starting a career in journalism. I long ago put that idea to bed, but I recently got a brief taste of what my life might have been like had I gone in that direction, when I was asked to write an article on Kyiv for Airgate: Krakow Airport Magazine. I quickly realised that being paid to write isn’t the career for me. The pressure of a time deadline was more than I could handle: I faffed about for hours trying to decide on what to write, and in the end, churned out the piece below in very short time. They seemed happy with it, and it was published in the spring issue (I was unable to find it online). They asked me to make slight altera...

Vorskla 3 Glentoran 0 (5-0 on aggregate) What do I know? I thought the Glens might have had a chance, though just before kickoff, the most optimistic prediction I could muster was 1-1. The man sitting in front of me, seeing my Northern Ireland top, predicted 3-0 and we made a friendly gentleman’s bet. Oh well. The scoreline flattered Glentoran. This was clearly a case of men against boys. As it was, many of Glentoran’s best players didn’t even make the trip (this is not an excuse, I don’t think their full-strength side would have fared any better). Their captain was on holiday, another player on honeymoon and, just to reinforce their part-time status, four players couldn’t get time off work. Priorities clearly weren’t with the football. I think they were content with getting into the 2 nd qualifying round, the manager even saying this was ideal pre-season training, and not much more. I’m not sure if this was a case of Vorskla being a much better side or Glentoran being far w...

Some things just beggar belief. Not bad football – that exists everywhere. And not to play up the stereotype too much, but Ukrainians do like their tipple. So imagine our utter dismay when we got to the Obolon Kyiv-Vorskla Poltava match only to find just one stand selling beer, with just one keg in operation, and a lengthy queue that didn’t seem to be moving. Bear in mind this: Obolon is not only the name of the part of town, but it is also the name of a popular beer. This same popular beer not only sponsors the Ukrainian Premier League, but also Obolon Kyiv Football Club. At the ground is the cheapest beer in all of Kyiv, allegedly. And yet they’ve got one lousy stall, operated by two women, one of whom handled the money, with the other one slowly pouring. We got our beers – the maximum two each, and settled into our seats. And then the halftime whistle blew. We had spent the entire 1 st half waiting for beer. This was probably the biggest talking point among the evening’...

This isn’t quite completely about football. It’s about much more than football. It may appear to be all about football but it isn’t. In other words, dear readers, whether you like football or not – and I know many of you don’t - please read on. It’s more personal than just being about football. There won’t be any talk of tactics, strategies and languid descriptions of goals, just a meandering ditty about the small role football has played in my life. 7 July 2011 : I spent the evening, well over 2 hours, glued to Uefa.com, watching online live ‘commentary’ of a 1 st qualifying round Europa League match between Glentoran and FK Renova. A sad way to spend a Thursday evening? Probably. Even sadder that I was sitting here an absolute nervous wreck, biting my finger nails, downing gin and tonics (with good reason, more in a minute) and praying that the result would go my way. Before going on as to why this match was so important, I really have to provide a brief, grossly simplified e...