Saturday At Three

The convention that football in England is played on a Saturday afternoon, kicking off at three o'clock, stems from the game's early days in Victorian times when for players, officials and spectators, the working week ended at Saturday lunchtime.  The strength of the church, The Lord's Day Observance Society (LDOS)  and the tradition that Sunday be a day of rest precluded organised football on the Sabbath.  With the decline in influence of the church and the LDOS it is probable that if football were in its infancy now,  Sunday would more likely be the preferred day for the majority of games.  The advent of the Premier League and Sky Sports broadcasting of live games in 1992 brought live Sunday football on TV; then we got live Monday night football, live Saturday lunchtime football, live Saturday tea-time football and from next season we are going to get live Friday night football.

The demands of television and the complicity of the football authorities bring problems for the fans that have been well documented. Inconvenient kick-off times combined with long journeys for instance. In this season's FA Cup, Liverpool's tie at Exeter City was switched to Friday night for the benefit of the broadcasters.  Ludicrously, Liverpool fans who wished to travel by rail found that their last train home left Exeter before the game had even kicked off! The switch, and the inconvenience to the travelling Liverpool fans, was justified by broadcasters on the basis that it was  " no different to their visits to Swansea on a Monday night in the Premier League and a Wednesday trip to Southampton in the League Cup, both of which they have done in the last 12 months." So that's all right then, having been thoroughly inconvenienced twice, by the third time they ought to be used to it.

And if it isn't bad enough when sufficient notice is given when games are rescheduled from the default Saturday afternoon, the broadcasters frequently demand last minute switches to accommodate their schedules. Oh sure, there are rules about the amount of notice they have to give, but at least twice this season these rules have not been complied with. Middlesbrough's trip to Charlton Athletic in the Championship was moved from Saturday to Sunday with only seventeen days notice given, and this after many away fans would have booked train tickets and possibly overnight accommodation as well as having bought their match tickets. Just another example of the lack of consideration that is shown to the fans by the leagues and broadcasters.

This is all a far cry from the days when the Football League ruled TV and radio coverage of the game with an iron fist. Highlights programmes like Match of The Day could not be broadcast before a particular time in the evening - I think it was 10 o'clock - because, in the Football League's view, any earlier and there might be a detrimental effect on attendances at games played during the afternoon. And BBC radio could only provide commentary on the second-half of Football League or FA Cup matches to stop fans staying at home and listening to games instead of attending them. Not allowing games to be shown live on TV at three o'clock on a Saturday afternoon was the work of then Burnley chairman Bob Lord, who in the 1960's convinced his fellow Football League club chairmen that televised games at that time would hit clubs in the pocket because of reduced attendances. 

That blackout remains in place, but is now being challenged by Virgin Media, who are proud to claim that they are " the only TV provider to offer all the available live games through one subscription." But, of 380 Premier League games scheduled each season, "only" 154 are shown live. Given their own way, Virgin Media would have all 380 games shown live. And here is why they argue this:

Fans are missing games: Fans are unable to watch their favourite teams live on TV because the Premier League does not allow games to be broadcast at 3pm on Saturdays. Our survey shows that 77% want more live Premier League games on TV.

Fans are not "unable to watch their favourite teams" rather, Virgin Media customers cannot. Fans go to games; customers sit at home and watch TV. And who are these people who want more live football and exactly how many are they? Presumably they are 77% of Virgin Media customers, many of whom may never have been to a live football match in their lives because it is doubtful that they are 77% of the 13.7 million fans who went to Premier League games last season. Virgin Media's claim that their motive for their campaign is that fans are getting a raw deal is disingenuous; they have looked at the number of games that are broadcast and figure that if it were all of them rather than 40% of them, they could significantly boost income by increased numbers of subscribers.

Contradicting Virgin's assertion is the evidence gathered by Against League 3 [1] who found that in non-League football, those polled were 100% against televised games at 3 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon and that even among Premier League fans, only 40% supported the concept. Naturally we should treat all such statistics, from either side, with some suspicion; both sides in the argument will have gathered evidence from sources that will most likely support their view.

The argument against televised football on a Saturday afternoon is that it will hit attendances at games, and especially at the lower levels of the game, and it is probably true. Say the choice is going to watch your local team on a dark, wet, cold and windy December afternoon, when they have just lost four on the trot and are likely to be trounced by the league leaders and having to spend money on transport, admission and refreshments, or alternatively sitting in a nice warm living room, with your feet up to watch a top of the table Premier League game without paying a penny more than your existing cable or satellite TV subscription. The given that choice, the "fans" that Virgin Media are talking about would pick the latter. The real fans -as opposed to "customers"- will choose the former.

You can watch football at The Emirates...

or in the pub...

There are already plenty of pubs and clubs showing games live on a Saturday afternoon courtesy of satellite feeds from the Middle East and you can stream games live on your laptop if you know where to look. And if these games are already available to view, then attendances are presumably already taking a hit anyway and legitimising the broadcast of these games may not have an impact. Except if it is made easier for people to watch a game on TV rather than go to one at their local club, then that is what they will do.

but this is how I like to watch it.

Personally, I'm in favour of the Saturday afternoon blackout staying in place, but equally I think that eventually it will be pushed aside. And when that day comes companies like Virgin Media will hail this as a victory for the customer. They won't care that the price of their victory may be another nail in the coffin of grassroots and lower league football.

---

[1] Against League 3 can be found at http://www.againstleague3.co.uk/   According to their website,  "Against League 3 is a collective of football supporters formed in May 2014 to fight proposals from The FA to introduce Premier League B-Teams into the wider competitive football pyramid. The petition against those measures reached 34,000 signatories with the plans defeated in 2015.

Since then AL3 has fought against a number of measures that would severely damage the English lower leagues, including the scrapping of FA Cup replays and B-Teams in the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy. We have also tirelessly researched league structures and cup competitions around the world and youth develop schemes employed in other nations as well as highlighted the need for reform and lack of transparency at The FA, notably the FA Council."

If I Could Turn Back Time

Time travel is impossible, but wishful thinking on the part of many writers means that it is a fairly common theme in fiction. And while it was once the preserve of the science-fiction writer, it's fair to say that it is becoming slightly more mainstream and is a device used both in books and in television as a medium to revisit past times and re-invent history. H G Wells pretty much invented the genre with The Time Machine,  although Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court pre-dates it by six years, and other classics include To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis and  Slaughterhouse - Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I have recently read Ben Elton's time travel novel, Time and Time Again and am currently reading Steven King's 11.22.63, which I want to finish before starting to watch the TV adaptation.

Rod Taylor in the film of The Time Machine

  

Ben Elton is an interesting character; he first came to prominence as a right-on, Left-wing, stand up comedian, ranting about the uselessness of motorway service tea pots and Margaret Thatcher. Then he became a national treasure when he collaborated with Richard Curtis to write Blackadder. As a novelist, his books are difficult to pigeon-hole; he doesn't fit into any convenient, single genre. His works include murder mystery, talent show satire and life in Nazi Germany. The premise of Time and Time Again is that if you could travel back in time and change one event, would you, could you and if so, which one event? Elton's protagonist, ex-SAS type Hugh Stanton, is sent back to 1914 to thwart the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and thereby prevent the outbreak of war. The law of unintended consequences kicks in, and without wishing to spoil the book for anyone who is thinking of reading it, history changes in many unexpected ways and with multiple strands of time intertwining. King's novel has a similar premise. High school English teacher Jake Epping travels back to 1963 (via 1958 - it's a long novel) in an attempt to stop Lee Harvey Oswald from assassinating President John F Kennedy, righting some other wrongs on the way.

Despite the fact that time travel is not possible, most writers are mindful of the butterfly effect and the danger of temporal paradoxes, although stories such as the one in the film Somewhere in Time exploit these so-called bootstrap paradoxes (named for the Robert Heinlein time-travel story, By His Bootstraps) - in fact the whole story in the film is predicated on one such paradox.

If time travel were possible it is safe to assume that there would be a comprehensive set of restrictions imposed on anyone wanting to travel back in time; less so (if any) on anyone wishing to travel forward, presumably. So, if you could go back, when would you go back to and what, if anything would you change? Let's set aside the idea of travelling to the 1930's and killing Adolf Hitler, or preventing the assassination of Kennedy, or Martin Luther King, or just going back and putting a bundle of money on Red Rum winning three consecutive Grand Nationals, what would you do, what could you do, that would actually be useful? (and even then, should you do it?)

Red Rum on his way to Grand National glory.

Perhaps the most likely thing you would do is correct your own mistakes, or more usefully, prevent yourself making them in the first place. It's apparently quite common for people to write a letter to their younger self; it is supposed to be cathartic. But apart from absolving yourself of guilt over any past actions, misdeeds or mistakes, these letters change nothing; imagine what the impact would be if your letter could actually be delivered to your younger self. What would you say?

Perhaps you would try to prevent your young counterpart having to face a traumatic or life changing experience. For instance, my first wife, June, died of a brain haemorrhage which the doctors told me after the event could have happened at any time and which it might not have been possible to have prevented with surgery before it occurred had anyone known it was going to happen. It's probable that even with prior knowledge of her condition, her life might not have been saved; would I change the past by preventing my younger self from marrying her, or even dating her? Yes, it would have saved me so much grief, but I would have missed out on much joy and happiness too. And who knows what (different) distress and heartache I might have experienced had my life taken a different course?

If I could deliver that letter, I would not tell myself to change anything specific, what I would do is attempt to change my mind set. I would say, "Don't say No, don't accept No, but don't worry about being told No." For a lot of my life I said No to things because I worried about the consequences; I probably missed out on a lot of things by saying No when I should have said Yes. They say you should not regret the things you have done, only the things you haven't and looking back I wish I'd been braver and not said No at times. A lot of times I was told No when I asked to do something (particularly when I asked my parents if I could do something); I wish I'd been braver and not taken No for an answer (well, not without a damn good reason anyway). And I wish I hadn't been scared to be told No at times.  I suppose I cannot be the only person who has been so daunted by the prospect of a refusal and therefore not asked the question, whatever it may be, rather than be told No. The rationale is that if you don't ask, you can't know if you would be rebuffed and you'll be happier that way. But if you do ask, your request may not even be denied, so what do you have to lose? For a very little word, "No" has a huge impact on our lives; a lesson for us all - regardless of the fact that we cannot educate our younger selves about it - is that we should pay less heed to the word. Mind you, I am a fine one to talk. I have often been told that I am a quite negative person (although I have tried to shake that off over the years) and "No" has played a significant role in my life, more so that it should have; if I could go back and berate myself about anything it would be about not being so negative.

On the whole, it is fortunate we cannot change the past, better that we learn from it to influence our future.

Age Is Just A Number

It was my birthday last week. As usual, I only got a handful of cards, which doesn't bother me much since I have never made much of my birthday; the last time I did was when I was forty. The only thing that concerns me as I get older is that time seems to go so much more quickly. Oh, and the aches and pains that seem more frequent, albeit that most of them are fairly trivial. It is inevitable that with age come issues with one's health and I suppose that (touch wood), I have been fortunate. I'm on tablets for high blood pressure and to control my cholesterol, but that makes me fairly normal for my age I suppose. I had a growth cut out from my tongue a few years ago that had me worried while waiting for the biopsy results; fortunately it was benign, so compared with many of my peers, I've been lucky.

An inevitable consequence of getting older is an inclination to look selectively at the past. There are some people who look back wistfully and believe that everything was better years ago, while others embrace the changes they have experienced and write off all that came before. I sit somewhere in between; there are many things that were better in my youth just as there are many things that are so much better today, and of the things that were better in my youth, a lot of them were better simply because I was younger. Actually I consider myself to be very fortunate to have been born when I was. In terms of the new technology that we have seen in the last twenty years, I was old enough to really appreciate it and benefit from it, while not being too old to be daunted by it. Many of my parents' generation have undoubtedly been bewildered by the pace and complexity of the changes in technology and by the ways in which the new technology has invaded their lives. The internet is now so completely integrated into our lives that being disconnected from it is almost physically painful to some people, and our increasing reliance on it for both our work and our entertainment has probably now reached unhealthy levels. And, to borrow an expression from a TV advert for an internet service provider, becoming an 'off grid spoon whittler' is becoming increasingly  less of an option.

Get broadband or be a spoon whittler.

Over 46% of the world's population have internet access, but there are nearly six million UK adults who have never gone online and in a world in which goods and services are increasingly only available online - or at least are becoming more and more difficult to access without an internet connection - there is a large group of people who risk being excluded from accessing these services or at least disadvantaged. On a trivial level the growth of internet broadcasting - Amazon Prime, Netflix and the like - means that those who rely solely on terrestrial TV broadcast have increasingly limited options. More importantly, as organisations like local authorities and utility companies move progressively towards offering access to information and services exclusively through their websites, the older generation and those in social housing (of the six million UK adults not online, 4.1 million of them live in that type of accommodation) are having their lives made more difficult due to their lack of access. And even for many hundreds of thousands of people who do have an internet connection, they may be excluded from some services that require higher download speeds than are available to them. So while, for the moment at least, I can consider myself able to cope both in terms the technology available to me and my grasp of it, who is to say how long that will last?

There is plenty you can do on you local council's website. One day, you may not be able to do it anywhere else.

Some changes are inevitable and I am happy to adapt to many of them. Sadly, however there are some changes that come along that are irksome, and technology is one of those where it is easy to feel that some changes are not for the convenience or benefit of the consumer, but for the advantage of the suppliers. Take Apple products. There is a lot to be said for Apple; for instance I think that their customer service is second to none, but their constant refinements  and new releases (of both hardware and software) make it difficult not to become somewhat vexed. The iPhone 4 was released in June 2010 and while six years is not a long time, in terms of technology it is an eternity. I got an iPhone 4 a year or so after it was released, and there is no reason why I should not still be using it, if I wanted to. As it happened I switched to a Samsung phone two years ago, which is probably just as well since my old iPhone, which I have kept and have been using to run a few apps, like the BBC Radio iPlayer, is becoming increasingly useless. My iPhone is running an old version of the operating system and doesn't have enough storage space left to upgrade to iOS 7.1.2 and guess what? the apps I tend to use it will not work with the version of iOS that is on the phone. Thus I'm in possession of a piece of kit that I can only upgrade by deleting the very apps I want to use to free up enough space to install the new operating system.

The iPhone 4, once cutting edge, now pretty much redundant.

This built in obsolescence is not confined to Apple, and with the frequency with which people upgrade their hardware, be it phones, tablets or laptops, second hand gadget shops are full of relatively new equipment that their owners have deemed past its sell-by date, either by choice or by necessity. I have now decided that my old iPhone is ripe for consigning to the scrapheap, but I might as well get something for it rather than just bin it. Selling it to someone like Mazuma would get me £15, or I could sell it to Apple, who will give me £75, but only in vouchers to spend on their products, a handy way of locking the consumer into them.

It may be a cliché to say that age is just a number, but as time goes by the age at which we define people as 'old' increases, and not just because people live longer than previous generations, but at least in part because of the demands made on us by the way the world, particularly technology, changes. By necessity as well as choice, we stay younger longer.  And whereas twenty years ago I had no clue as to how important the internet would be - we had only just acquired our first PC then and only went online in 1999 - who can tell where we will be twenty years hence? What technology will we need by 2036, and what skills will we need to operate it? Increasingly we need to be more adept and capable, particularly in embracing change and new ideas, well into our old age.

Cafe Culture

While a lot of the action in soap operas like Eastenders and Coronation Street centres on the pub, in sit-coms characters are more inclined to gravitate towards coffee bars, with Cafe Nervosa and Central Perk playing important roles in shows like Frasier and Friends. In fact whole episodes of Frasier seem to be set in the coffee shop and one show follows the Crane brothers as they search for a new regular haunt after being driven out of Nervosa when a guitarist (played by Elvis Costello) is hired to play folk music. Coffee shops in sit-coms are nothing new, however. Back in the 1950’s, Hancock’s Half Hour regularly featured them. In one show Tony meets his childhood sweetheart in a Chiswick coffee bar, in another he lists the plethora of coffee shops in Cheam High Street, and in a third he actually runs his own coffee bar.

Frasier & Niles - Cafe Nervosa. Picture: CBS

Although the first coffee houses opened in England in the 17^th century (the renowned insurers, Lloyd’s of London began life in Lloyd’s Coffee House in 1688), it was in the 1950’s that the coffee bar scene exploded in London. Coinciding with the invention of the teenager and skiffle and rock ‘n’ roll music, coffee bars sprang up all over Soho and the West End, spreading through suburbia where they provided an invaluable meeting place for teenagers to drink frothy coffee and listen to their favourite music, live or through a juke box.

By the time I became a teenager the coffee bar had almost disappeared from Britain’s High Streets, being largely confined to Soho, where the Moka Bar had become London’s most well known in 1953. During my teenage years I cannot remember setting foot in a coffee bar. And even as recently as twenty years ago my home town was something of a desert so far as coffee shops were concerned, with Morelli’s being just about the only one I can recall. Today Romford can boast (if that’s the right word) three Costa Coffees, two Starbucks, a Coffee Republic, a Patisserie Valerie and sundry other independent coffee shops.

In Britain we are drinking less tea than we used to – in 2015, tea consumption was 22% lower than it had been five years previously – as visiting coffee shops becomes more and more popular and more and more of them are opened. The relaxation of licensing laws in 2005 might not have created the ‘cafe culture’ that the then Labour government envisaged, but nowadays most British High Streets feature at least one coffee shop with pavement tables and customers sipping their mochas and cappuccinos – albeit that some of them are sitting outside only because they cannot smoke indoors. It may also be a feature of immigration from European countries that have more of a cafe tradition than a pub culture that means that these days many coffee shops include among their customers groups of mid-twenties men who one would normally expect to be in the nearest Wetherspoons. It does, however seem a pity that while coffee shops in the West End stay open late into the evening,  those in suburbia tend to close their doors at six or seven o’clock. There must be a market for them to stay open later for those people who want to meet friends but want neither a formal meal in a restaurant nor an evening in the pub.

Having once favoured Costa or Starbucks, these days Val and I tend to gravitate towards Caffe Nero with Coffee Republic or Patisserie Valerie (or Pat Val, as we call it) our regular back-ups. And while there is a lot of snobbery about coffee and even more capacity for ‘customisation’ a la Niles Crane’s order in an episode of Frasier ; "Double Cappuccino - half-caf, non-fat milk, with just enough foam to be aesthetically pleasing but not so much that it leaves a moustache," my regular order tends to be an Americano, which leaves little room for personalisation other than how much milk to add. Val, on the other hand, while not being fussy, tends to tailor her favourite cappuccino by having it made with skimmed milk and with a single shot. Mind you, I’m not sure whether requesting a single shot and skinny milk would have made any difference the day we were in Mallorca and walked from Palma to C’an Pastilla where we stopped for a coffee. C’an Pastilla looked pretty similar to how I remembered it from my last visit, the best part of thirty years earlier, and if the resort seemed trapped in a time-warp, so did Val’s cappuccino. It arrived topped with whipped cream from a can, and chocolate, looking like a throw-back to the 1980’s. It bore more than a passing resemblance to a 99 ice cream. This is, however, not typical of our experiences ordering coffee abroad; there is something glamorous and seductive about sitting outside a cafe in some Spanish or Italian piazza, sipping coffee and watching the world go by that it is somehow not possible to replicate on the British High Street, no matter how hard we try.

C'an Pastilla seemed stuck in the 1980's...

...and so did the coffee. (This picture from lkpheartsfood.net)

It may be because on the Continent  taking coffee is more of a ritual than we see it in Britain –although that is changing, if slowly – that the experience of drinking it there is exactly that, an experience, rather than just a means of quenching one’s thirst. And the country we probably most associate with coffee drinking as an experience is Italy, although it is only since the end of the Second World war that coffee has gained such a firm tradition. Prior to 1939 coffee was the preserve of the elite, with most Italians drinking hot drinks made from roasted barley or chicory. So what will Italians, for whom coffee is pretty much synonymous with espresso, make of Starbucks, who have announced plans to open their first outlet in Milan in 2017? On the basis that the Starbucks experience is pretty consistent world-wide, it is unlikely that the chain – which coincidentally opened its first store in Seattle forty-five years ago this week and now has nearly 24,000 outlets in sixty-seven countries – is going to make any concessions for the Italian market. That suggests that the Italian coffee aficionado will not be beating a path to Starbucks’ door, but for the younger generation, and particularly those who have travelled and come across their stores in other countries, Starbucks may be less of a culture shock. Personally I’m not a great Starbucks fan; the coffee is consistent but somewhat bland, but they have their place, especially in a family group where not everyone wants an espresso or an Americano, given their wide range of other drinks. Starbucks may not be to everyone’s taste, but just as another American institution, McDonalds, have conquered the world by offering a speedy alternative to the more formal restaurant meal, so Starbucks have their place alongside the more traditional cafe.

The first Starbucks in the UK opened in 1998, on the Kings Road in Chelsea, twenty years after Costa opened their first store and a year after the first Caffe Nero. Between them these three chains transformed a somewhat moribund UK coffee market; considering Britain drinks over 60 billion cups of the stuff every year, it's surprising no one has done the same for tea.

A Midland Odyssey - Part Seven - The Interview

Like thousands of other teenagers up and down the country, my younger daughter is currently preparing for her A levels, just as I was forty years ago. But while Sarah intends going to university after she leaves Sixth Form, in 1976 I was looking for a job. And like many of my peers I had applied for a job with a bank - well, two actually, National Westminster and Midland.  Both offered me interviews; the first one I went to was with Nat West. It did not go well. I got lost on the way from Liverpool Street Station to Goodman's Fields, where the interview took place, and was a nervous wreck throughout. I was not offered a job.

My second interview was with Midland Bank, on a grey, damp Friday morning in the Spring. I donned my new Burton's suit - grey check, two buttons, wide lapels and flared trousers, as was the fashion back then - and set off, making sure that I was in good time and had a map of my destination, Suffolk House in Laurence Pountney Hill, EC4. In an early example of my fear of being late, I was ridiculously early when I got off the train at Liverpool Street, from where Suffolk House is but a fifteen minute walk. Having time to kill, I walked to London Bridge and then back and forth across the river in the drizzle a couple of times before deciding that it was now not too early to get to my interview. Despite the fact that forty years have passed, there are some things that I remember quite vividly from that interview; not so much the meeting itself, but a couple of odd coincidences that sprung up.

Laurence Pountney Hill. Suffolk House is long gone.

Some people say there is no such thing as coincidence, that what we see as coincidence is actually just the Law of Attraction or the Frequency Illusion in action, but there were two incidents at my interview that I think can only have been coincidental, in fact downright spooky. The first came when I sat in a reception area with a number of other equally nervous teenagers, waiting to be called in to be interviewed. An interviewer emerged from somewhere; "Mr Woods?" she asked. "Yes," I answered...and so did someone else. "Oh, so we have two Mr Woods. Mr Michael Woods?" she asked. "Yes," I replied...and so did the same someone else. Puzzled, she consulted her form again. "Michael Grant Woods?" she asked and this time I had to shake my head. Off trotted my namesake for his interview. I often wondered if he got a job with Midland. I accept that my name is not exactly uncommon, and years later I came across others in the bank who shared my name, but the odds on encountering one's namesake at a job interview, in a pool of less than a dozen other people must be very long indeed.

The second coincidence occurred when it came to my turn to be interviewed. I sat down opposite the interviewer and realised that I had met him before. Back in the 1970's, when all the banks seemed to recruit on an industrial scale at the end of each school year, Midland Bank would visit schools in an effort to encourage school leavers to apply for jobs with them, and when the Bank's caravan had visited my school, Forest Lodge in Collier Row, one of the members of staff who came with it was now sitting on the other side of the desk from me. I cannot recall anything about the interview itself, although it must have gone much better than the one at Nat West - or perhaps Midland were not so picky - because I was offered a job. Of course it might have been that the job should have been offered to the other Michael Woods, or perhaps it could have been that the interviewer was simply impressed by the fact that my memory was good enough to have remembered him from his visit to my school. In any event, by the time I came to sit my A levels, I knew that come August I had a job to go to.

Like Suffolk House, my old school - Forest Lodge - is also no more.

Nowadays the idea of a job for life is becoming less and less common; one in three workers stay in a job for no longer than two years apparently, but in 1976 there were certain industries, and banking was one of them, where long service was the norm. And whereas my parents were both factory workers - they were employed by Thorns (later Ferguson), my Dad as a French polisher and Mum on a production line assembling television circuit boards - my getting a job in a bank carried with it a certain cachet, more so than nowadays I suspect. The fact that my parents worked in a factory (although my Mum had been a secretary with a firm of solicitors before I came along), that we lived in a council flat and I went to a comprehensive school made me consider our family to be firmly working class. Today, notions of class distinction are much more blurred - if they exist at all - and they aren't something to which I pay attention anymore; at best they are irrelevant, at worst divisive, demeaning even.

In 1976 the rate of inflation stood at 16.50%, down slightly from the whopping 24.20% which it reached the year previously, and even before I had started work I received a letter confirming that my starting salary would see a double digit percentage rise following negotiations between the National Union of Bank Employees and the bank. And even before I had set foot in a branch, I was transferred! My initial letter confirming my employment as a Grade One clerk (subject to the usual six month probationary period) advised me that I would start at Midland Bank 126 High Road, Ilford but hard on the heels of that letter came another transferring me to the strength of the bank's staff at 412 Cranbrook Road, Gants Hill (just over a mile away).

Midland Bank, Gants Hill is now a pizza restaurant.

So in August 1976, after a week's Induction Course at Midland Bank's Training Branch in Holborn (see A Midland Odyssey Part Four), I took the 247A bus from Collier Row -where I lived at the time - to Gants Hill to embark on what might loosely be called a career with Midland Bank. Funny to think, had my interview with Nat West turned out differently, or had there not been two Michael Woods at Suffolk House that Friday, or had I not known my interviewer, I might now be looking reflecting on a very different past.

"Allow 28 Days For Delivery"

Internet shopping is big business: in 2014 over £104bn was spent online in the UK and last year more than three-quarters of all Britons reported buying goods online. While some of those will have been 'click-and-collect' purchases, a large proportion will have been for goods that had to be delivered to the purchaser's home, which accounts for the fact that when I look out of my dining room window there is a good chance that I am going to see a delivery van of some kind. And it seems that it is a rare day when the doorbell isn't rung by a delivery driver bringing a parcel to our home.

The frequency with which we receive a parcel delivered to our door is in sharp contrast to how often we had a home delivery even just a few years ago. As with so many other things, the internet has been responsible for the huge growth in shopping from home. Seeing those delivery vans going up and down our street made me think about how things were before we could order goods online, and before communication improved with the coming of text messaging and email and tracking services that allow us to see exactly when our goods are being delivered.

Neither of my parents had bank accounts until sometime during the 1980's when their employers stopped paying them in cash. Before then paying for large items like furniture or domestic appliances was done with cash or on hire purchase, and if the latter then the instalments had to be paid in cash. The only things that were ever ordered for home delivery were those that were too big to bring home on the bus (neither Mum nor Dad drove, although Dad had a moped which was of little use in transporting anything bulky). If you were lucky enough to be given a date when something would be delivered all you knew was that it should turn up that day, meaning that you had to spend the whole day indoors waiting for it. In the event that the day dragged on and the item had not turned up, you could always telephone to see where you item was, except that until about 1974 my parents didn't even have a phone, so the only way to make a call was to trot off to the nearest phone box. Doing so of course ran the risk that the moment you turned the corner, the blessed lorry with the delivery would turn up.

Worse still were the items you ordered by post. Having filled in the form from the newspaper or magazine, it was off to the Post Office to buy a Postal Order (my parents didn't have a bank account, remember), post it off...and wait. Most of these purchases came with an "allow 28 days for delivery" clause so it was anyone's guess when the purchase would arrive and the chances of actually being in to receive it were slim. As you can imagine, we didn't order very much by post. On one occasion that we did, the item was out of stock and our Postal Order was returned, which meant that not having one of his own, my Dad had to get his brother to pay it into his bank account to get our money back.

Even when you were fairly confident of a delivery date, things could go wrong. By 1990 I had left home and married. My first wife and I ordered a settee which was to be delivered from Wales. On the appointed day, a Friday, I had a phone call to say that due to high winds having closed the Severn Bridge, our settee could not be delivered. A new delivery date was agreed, which was the following Friday. Come Monday morning I was at work and received a call to say that our settee had arrived , but no one was in to take delivery. We ended up having it delivered to my parents' house (fortunately they lived in the same road as us at the time) and had to transport it home in the back of the car - with the tailgate open - later that evening.

It is a while ago - maybe about eighteen years - since I made my first online order and you probably won't be surprised to learn that it was with Amazon, but I can still recall my amazement at being able to place an order at five o'clock in the afternoon and have the good turn up before noon the next day. We now take that sort of thing for granted and with email confirmation that our order has been despatched and with some delivery companies providing tracking numbers that allow the buyer to see exactly what progress their order has made and when it is going to be delivered, the mystery over when things are going to turn up are largely over.

Not entirely, though. At one time we used to order our groceries online from Tesco and in the early days the system worked well. The time came, however when it seemed that the supermarket may have over-extended themselves and having waited more than once until 10pm on a Friday for a delivery promised between 6pm and 8pm, we gave up on online ordering. In fairness, that was a long time ago; they may have improved since we last ordered.

Having gone from the days when ordering goods meant buying a Postal Order, mailing the order and being at the mercy of the seller and the Royal Mail for the actual delivery, we now take ordering goods online and being certain of when they are going to be delivered for granted. And if we can't be in to take delivery, we can always arrange to collect from places like Doddle or from Amazon Locker. Many things we buy don't even need to be physically delivered. Digital downloads of books, music and films mean that we can enjoy our purchase within minutes of ordering the product (download speeds permitting), although despite my attachment to my Kindle, I still quite enjoy reading an actual book and where music is concerned, prefer a CD to a download.

So, where next for online ordering and delivery? Amazon have proposed using drones to make deliveries, but for some products, perhaps there is an even more radical possibility. 3D printers are not yet commonplace - prices are at present prohibitive - but there is no reason why, once these machines become as ordinary as the home computer and inkjet printer, that some physical goods could not be downloaded in the same way as we now download music and films.

That may sound like the stuff of science fiction, but bear in mind that before 1994, when Amazon were founded, just buying things online was non-existent and now it is so normal as to be unremarkable. Who knows? in another twenty years time we may think nothing of downloading something like a toaster and printing it at home.

School Chiefs In Punctuation Ban Row!

It is probably because I drifted into a career in banking through passivity rather than due to any burning desire to work in the industry and remained there for thirty six years more through inertia than anything else that I have always admired and even envied people who have a clear vision of the vocation they want to follow. However, when I was in my last year at school and wondering what I would do for a living, I harboured some thoughts about pursuing a career in journalism. After all, English was probably my best subject and I enjoyed writing, but in truth I was probably too shy, too introverted to consider a profession that generally requires one to have a thick skin, be hardnosed and perhaps even unscrupulous at times. I remember hearing that one could not consider oneself a proper journalist until one had filched a wedding photograph from the home of a grieving widow, something that I could not conceive of myself doing, although as a junior reporter I would probably have been reporting on church fetes, Women's Institute meetings and proceedings at the local magistrate's court, so the requirement to steal mementos from a tearful spouse might be a long time coming, if indeed the need ever arose at all.

Looking back, I have often wondered if I actually heard that tale or if I imagined it. That was until I read Romps, Tots and Boffins: The Strange Language of News by Robert Hutton. As the sub-title suggests, it's a book that explores the language of journalism, or journalese, that inhabits our daily papers, the words and phrases used in newspapers that rarely appear in our normal, day to day speech. Words like 'baron' as in 'oil baron' or phrases like 'foul mouthed tirade,' which normal people would substitute with "effing and blinding" or swearing, or cursing. Then I came across 'death knock,' which Hutton explains is what happens when someone dies in a newsworthy way and a reporter is despatched to counsel the grieving family...and 'get every picture of the loved one that's in the house.' So I hadn't imagined it after all.

You only have to take a cursory glance at any newspaper to see what Hutton means about the particular idioms that reporters employ. In fact there is probably a good parlour game to be had from scouring a paper with a list of words like 'officialdom' or 'plucky,' 'rabid' or 'reeling' and seeing how many you can score. Journalese exists for many reasons. To tell a story in short, punchy phrases that convey their meaning easily for readers whose time is at a premium. To deliver prose that is lively and easy to read and is familiar is an asset in getting the message across when space and time are limited. Thus 'rant' for an argument with which the writer (or paper) does not agree, or 'rapped' when someone is told off. It's a sort of code, but one for which the reader has the key, even if on starting to read a particular newspaper they may have to learn it. As Hutton points out, journalese is a fairly universal language and while at one time there were different dialects for tabloids and broadsheets, (Keith Waterhouse, of whom more later, identified 'tabloidese' as a distinct sub-genre), the lines are now so much more blurred, with words once the preserve of The Sun or Daily Mirror now also commonplace in The Times or The Telegraph. Although journalese evolves (as Hutton tells us, 'mad cow disease' and 'test tube baby' are the inventions of journalists), some expressions are ages old and perhaps no longer relevant. A sports writer describing a footballer turning 'on a sixpence' before executing a 'slide rule pass' is alluding to a coin not in use for over forty years and a calculating device long since supplanted by the pocket calculator. But the reader will immediately know what is meant, even if they have never seen a sixpence, or a slide rule for that matter.

This week a story appeared in the press suggesting that government ministers are concerned about the excessive use of the exclamation mark by children as young as seven. The ! is apparently over used, particularly in social media, and teachers are being advised to curb its use by their pupils. The reporting of this story has sent journalists into a frenzy of journalese in describing  the announcement from the Department of Education (DoE). Teachers are apparently "up in arms" about this guidance, which is described as a "stern edict." This has resulted in a "backlash" with ministers being accused of "taking writing back to the 19th century" since primary school children are to only get credit for using exclamation marks at the end of sentences beginning with 'what' or 'how' as in "What a lovely day!" or "How exciting!" This, by the way prompted the title of my blog this week, as you may have guessed by now. Banning exclamation marks other than in specifically prescribed instances may be somewhat Draconian; it is certainly at odds with the idea that the correct use of punctuation, grammar and even spelling are less important than a child's ability to express themselves, although I have limited patience with that concept. I would agree that the over use of the exclamation mark diminishes its effect; the use of multiple exclamation marks certainly does, but limiting its use to certain sentences will rob others of their meaning, reducing the dramatic to the mundane. Language evolves, and social media, particularly Twitter where brevity is vital given the constraints of 140 characters, is a particular example of how English (and presumably other languages) is changing whether the DoE like it or not.

The media reacted to the exclamation mark rules with typical journalese.

The DoE's pronouncement on the use of the exclamation mark is not the only example of someone wishing to limit its use. Somewhat surprisingly considering the genre in which he writes, Stan Lee, creator of such characters as Spiderman, Iron Man and Hulk, once tried to ban them from Marvel Comics, having decided that they were "too juvenile." There is a theory that exclamation marks were originally used so often in comic books because of the printing process. The use of poor quality paper meant that full stops were often not visible or might be removed by a printer and so a ! ensured that the reader understood what the  writer intended. The story goes that after a short period in which the exclamation mark was not used, Lee relented and they were reinstated, perhaps because a comic book without exclamation marks is like a Big Mac without the pickles.

Spiderman, complete with exclamation marks.

Keith Waterhouse. Picture: The Guardian

In terms of writing styles, I am of a mind with Robert Hutton, who regards the late Keith Waterhouse's book, On Newspaper Style, now more than 30 years old, as an essential guide for writers. As someone who greatly admired Waterhouse's writing, for newspapers such as the Mirror and the Daily Mail and in his novels (Billy Liar would probably be the book I would chose to take if ever asked to appear on Desert Island Discs), I can honestly say that if I could write a tenth as well as him I would die happy. As far as I am concerned, it would probably be better for children to be schooled in their writing by reference to  Waterhouse, whose campaign against the misuse of the apostrophe should be a lesson to us all, than by a bunch of Whitehall mandarins.

The March of The Mobile

Predicting the future is difficult and there are enough examples that show that even industry experts are prone to getting it completely wrong. In 1943 IBM Chairman Thomas Watson said, "I think there is a world market for maybe five computers," and as recently as 1977  Ken Olsen, founder of Digital Equipment Corp said "There is no reason for any individual to have a computer in his home." Both predictions were spectacularly wrong. And in 2006 David Pogue, writing in The New York Times, said, "Everyone's always asking me when Apple will come out with a cell phone. My answer is, 'Probably never.'" By March 2014, iPhone sales had reached 500 million devices.

The iPhone; Who saw that coming?

The march of the mobile phone has been inexorable. In 1993 Vodafone predicted that just 10% of the UK's population would own a mobile by the year 2000, yet now  there are over 90 million mobile phone subscriptions in a population of 64.6 million people. Mobile phones are so ubiquitous that you probably don't know anyone who doesn't own one; 93% of the adult population have one and 66% own smartphones. Mobile phones, some people said, would never supplant the landline, yet now the landline phone sits forlorn and largely ignored, except by the elderly. I only keep our landline because that is how we get our broadband and on the rare occasions the phone rings it is either my Mother-in-Law or a marketing call, and thanks to the Telephone Preference Service (TPS), the latter have reduced to a trickle (except the other night when I got two, at 1am and 4.30am).

UK mobile and landline usage. Source: Ofcom

As we know, the mobile phone, particularly the smartphone, is more than just a device for making phone calls and sending text messages, nowadays the crucial part of your mobile phone contract will be how big your data allowance is and how much you pay for it. A typical 500MB monthly allowance would let you view 5,000 basic web pages or watch an hour of video, but as streaming high definition videos or watching TV on your mobile becomes ever more popular, "all you can eat" data allowances are essential, to which the mobile phone companies are responding by hiking prices. Three has stopped offering customers an "all you can eat" plan at £17 per month, increasing their tariff to £30 in response to the huge additional demand.

But as well as checking Facebook or Twitter while we are on the move, we are increasingly using mobiles to buy stuff online, to check our bank accounts and pay for things. You can pay for your parking using your mobile, or with Apple Pay, just about anything by adding your bank card to your phone and using it in the same way as a contactless payment card. At the end of this month Android Pay will go live in the UK using similar technology. The future is likely to see our smartphones enabled for us to complete more and more of our daily tasks. The Hive Active Heating app allows British Gas customers to control their central heating at home from their phone. Smartphones can be used to set your TV recorder and Vodafone have an app enabling you to control your home broadband connection remotely. Inevitably more will follow.

SEAT and Nissan are just two car manufacturers who are integrating mobile phone technology into their vehicles, enabling your car to read you text messages from your phone for instance, or control the air conditioning and heating. Meanwhile Volvo have announced that from 2017 they plan to become the world’s first car manufacturer to offer cars without keys. Volvo customers will be offered an app for their mobile phones to replace the physical key with a digital one. Which is all very well, except that I cannot get the app on my phone to work with my Nissan, and people who can have found that the app can be hacked and that they can send messages to cars other than their own, although there is no suggestion that this could work while cars were in motion nor affect steering and impact safety.

Volvo drivers will soon be able to unlock their cars with their phone.

In the future we could be offered the option to do away with our front door key and unlock it with our mobile. Replacing season tickets for rail travel or entry to sports grounds with mobile phone apps may become commonplace (you can already use a smartphone in place of an Oyster Card on the tube in London), employers may replace workplace ID cards with mobile phone apps and while at present we still need to insert our bank card in an ATM to withdraw money, will the day come when we simply point our phone at the screen instead? We can already order a takeaway pizza from our phone, so why not be able to order from a restaurant menu at the same time as we book a table using our phone? Arrive at the restaurant, take a seat and hey presto, your meal arrives immediately that you wave your phone at a reader on the table.

Watching video content, streaming music, reading books and magazines on your smartphone are all so commonplace, old hat even, that it is hard to imagine what you cannot theoretically do with your phone. And as more and more of our lives are lived through our phones, replacing bank cards, remote controls and even car keys, we are becoming ever more reliant on them, which is where it is probably prudent to inject a note of caution...for two reasons. The first is the battery life. Apparently the average between charge and depletion is one or two days, but we all know that with even moderate use your phone can dip to zero inside a single day, which is why battery packs are becoming not only more popular but nigh on must haves. Imagine the frustration of the Volvo owner of the not too distant future who gets to his car and finds his phone battery dead and incapable of unlocking his car? Or the similar angst of the shopper whose phone dies at the checkout, leaving them unable to pay for their purchases? There are plenty of tips out there about extending the life of your battery; personally I find turning off mobile data other than when I actually need it to be the best, but even so I still find the battery running down alarmingly at times. Secondly there is the idea of "putting all your eggs in one basket." Lose your credit card and you probably still have some cash, your rail ticket, your car keys. If their replacements are all embedded in your phone and it is lost, stolen, breaks or simply runs out of juice and you are up the proverbial creek, paddleless. Aside from which we can never forget the potential vulnerabilities of Near Field Communication (NFC) that many of these payment methods and systems of communication rely upon that could be exploited by cyber criminals.

The battery pack, fast becoming an essential piece of kit.

Don't get the impression that I am some sort of Luddite; I am as happy to embrace new technology, including smartphones, as the next man. The growing interest in the use of  the material graphene in mobile phone batteries, a material that would potentially reduce the amount of time needed to charge a battery, extend life to over a week and radically change the way smartphones look, might mean that the days of worrying how much charge you have left could be a thing of the past within the next few years. But even so it will be a long time before I ditch my car keys and credit cards, although by the very nature of such predictions, I could well be wrong.