Normanton Lad

We’ve got some rum coves on here – football hooligans, jailbirds, etc. I‘ve always been a careful person and I’ve lived a quiet, undramatic life. Some of those I’ve known have had very eventful lives. Two of my close relatives were murdered. A friend and someone I worked with were murdered. Two people at my place of work were murderers. As regards advice to a younger self only two things come to mind. First, around about 1980 I was standing in the queue outside the Odeon on London Road to see 10 with Bo Derek when a passing stranger said “Don’t bother. The film is rubbish.” I didn’t listen and that was about 90 minutes of my life wasted. Seven was also a waste of time. The filming was so dark I couldn’t work out what was going on. Fellini’s Eight and a half was equally mystifying. My advice would be to avoid any film with a number in the title – unless it is by Kurosawa. The second thing happened a few days ago when I posted on the 9/11 thread for the edification of some of the low knowledge types on here. That thread has just disappeared. Does anyone know why? If I could go back a few days I would tell myself "Don't post anything on politics. It only upsets the blue pill types.”

I don’t know anything about dancing, but I was surprised and impressed by some old people I saw dancing around 1990. Benny Green was being interview in the street and I stopped to watch what was going on. It was something to do with a local jazz festival and when he finished a jazz band started playing. About four men in their 60s or 70s started dancing by themselves in front of the band. They didn’t seem to care who was watching. They were just enjoying themselves. I can’t remember exactly what kind of jazz music it was or what the dancing looked like, but I know that I had never seen old men dancing like that before. It was not something I would ever have done, but they seemed to be happy enough and they weren’t annoying anyone so good luck to them.

You’d look a bit odd dancing to the music I like (Bach, Tallis, Byrd). I’m not having a go at the OP. I just finding it hard to understand someone in their fifties who wants to jump around to that music. Cave divers and people who put sauce on their food are also enigmas to me. The last time I went to a disco was around 1975. It was the one at the bottom of Babbington Lane. The noise was horrible and I didn't stay long. As I left I remembered that there was a late showing of Death in Venice in the Eagle Centre theatre. I went there and that was the first time I heard the adagietto from Mahler’s fifth symphony. The contrast between the high I got from the glorious music in that excellent film and the hellish hubbub of the disco made it clear to me that discos were not my thing.

It used to be that some men went out to enjoy a lot of beer - the CAMRA member type - and some went out to meet women at discos. The former type were rarely interested in discos and dancing. Also the drinking meant that they were of little use to the women. I was in neither camp. I just liked a quiet night in. When I was in my 50s the thought of going to a disco would have seemed horrific.

Alan Durban was also a very good cricketer. He played second eleven games for Derbyshire and Glamorgan. I've chatted to him and he seemed much more intelligent than modern day footballers. I thought the same about the other Derby players from his era that I've met. I've recently read a book about his time as Sunderland manager. That was a good read.

I read somewhere that there are 300 fake Navy Seals for every real one. I think some of these people really believe they were Navy Seals. They are just nutters, but there are some who are just trying to make themselves look more interesting to women. There’s no doubt that a Navy Seal is a better catch than a guy who just has a boring job in a call centre. In fact, I would guess that you would stand more chance of getting a girlfriend if you said you were a bank robber rather than someone with a run of the mill job. Some say that a real warrior would just keep it to himself, but the soldiers I’ve known have not been unduly modest about their accomplishments. I think they are right. As the Bible tells us : Don’t hide your light under a bushel. One man I talk to most days had a very senior rank in the Army and then he reached the top in another field. He’s had many private conversations with Prime Ministers and other eminent people and he is not modest about this. How do I know he’s not making it up? The evidence is online and in old newspapers. But, then again, there is the slight possibility that he could be impersonating that distinguished ex-Army man. That was the case about 20 years ago when a man pretended to be an ex-Wolves or WBA player with the same name as him. I can’t remember the player’s name now, but he was just an average 1950s player. The fake player even gave public talks about his pretend career. In the end, the real player got wind of it and confronted the imposter. It all ended up in the papers for us to laugh or cringe at.

Has anyone watched this guy exposing people who lie about being Navy Seals? If it was just lonely people making up stories it would be sad and unwatchable but most of these liars are trying to make money from their lies. Stolen Valor These “stolen valor” frauds make me sick. My brother served in uniform and he’s never been the same person since. Sometimes he just sits there with his thousand mile stare thinking about the horror of it all. He’s been to some horrible places and seen horrible things. He did twenty years and he claims he never misdelivered a single letter. Nearly every old Scotsman I’ve chatted to will have been at the famous Real Madrid European Cup Final in 1960 at Hampden Park. They have told this lie so often that they’ve come to think it was true. Most of us tell lies to ourselves. I can remember reading Denis Law claiming that he spent much of his childhood in Aberdeen barefoot because his family couldn’t afford shoes. An Aberdonian the same age as Law told me that was nuts. If you went barefoot in Aberdeen you’d lose your feet with frostbite. One guy in a pub about fifteen years ago told me he played for Wimbledon and he was on the bench for the Liverpool Cup Final in 1988. I didn’t want to embarrass him by asking his name – I know the names of most players from around that time – but I looked up the subs later and he certainly wasn’t one of them. Have you ever met any “stolen valor” footballers?

The original poster seems to be suggesting that we shouldn't judge people by their past actions because something that is bad now didn't used to be seen as bad. I disagree. If it was bad in say 1950 then, in my book, it is probably bad today. Things that were not bad before are probably not bad now. Those older people who have become politically correct have been brainwashed or frightened into renouncing their earlier position. I rarely watch TV or mix with younger people (apart from relatives) so I regard myself as almost immune from this conditioning. Most of my views are extremely politically incorrect but I still hold them. I can't imagine myself in any sort of a social situation with someone who wanted to be addressed by newly invented pronouns, but if that did happen then I would just walk away or use the traditional pronouns.

I don't know why they had to go back to the Baseball Ground for a shower because I'm sure I can remember that the players could shower or wash after training around 1964 - 1966. The players used to leave the Sinfin Lane training ground in their smart clothes to get in their cars or to catch the bus.

Are you insane? I'd pay money not to have to take that dreary ride you have just described.

Stop feeding them and they will leave. That applies to all unwelcome guests. Put all your food in containers and give the bird feeder a holiday. Keep your house and garden spotless.

I've just been looking at Dairyhouse Rd on Google Streetview. I couldn't find any strangely painted houses but I think I spotted the house I remembered as being painted. The bricks look as if something has been put on them to strip the paint. Coincidentally, that house is called "The Quadrant". I suppose all this talk of quadrants and quadroons should not be unexpected because this was the Asian quarter of Derby. I think the house was painted after 1961 when you left the street so you might not remember it. Dairyhouse Rd looks strange with so many cars parked where there had once been small gardens. In 1998 you could buy a house there for £17,000 but now house prices in the street are well over £200,000. That's a very big jump in a short time.

When you put it like that it seems like a lot of fuss about nothing, but pensioners wandering around the park in the 1960s would have had memories of the park from the Edwardian era when most of the visitors to the park would have been very elegantly dressed couples and families strolling around together. If they wanted to sit then they would have sat down on a park bench and not on the grass. The sight of groups of men dossing around the gardens was a shock to many older Derby folk. These men were doing nothing wrong, but it was not the done thing. It’s a bit like a barely dressed Western woman wandering a town in Pakistan. Most of us would say that’s not respectful, but respect doesn’t seem to work the other way round. A few days ago I saw a schoolboy about to make a bonfire with his old school papers. He said he’d just finished some exams. I told him a fire would not be a good idea. People have their windows open and their washing out. He could see my point and he chucked it all the recycle bin. When I said that people didn't start fires in their gardens in the summer he asked if there was a law against it. I explained that there probably wasn’t but it was just part of being a good neighbour, i.e. giving consideration to the rights and wishes of your neighbours. He said his mother didn’t seem to know about this unspoken rule because she had no objection to his fire. I could have spent a good hour explaining all the rules I was taught about how to behave but which have been ignored by later generations. Newcomers to the UK have also never been told about these rules and that’s why there are so many disputes in multicultural areas. Some of these rules seem pointless today. I was told you always walk on the outside of a woman on the street. That was to protect women from muck being thrown by traffic. Most older men still follow this rule. Some rules are not pointless. For example, you don’t spit in the street, play loud music in public and you don’t chuck rubbish all over the place. There is no doubt that you see more of this in multicultural areas. Multiculturism can only work if people respect the culture of the other. Unfortunately, cultures have conflicting requirements and preferences. That is why multiculturism doesn’t work. The man on Dairyhouse Rd wanted a house that looked like his old house in Pakistan or wherever and his neighbour wanted all the houses in the row to remain unpainted. As soon as the bricks were painted sky blue and yellow I imagine all the neighbours who could afford to moved away. At that time a house on Dairyhouse Rd cost about £4,000, but Dairyhouse Rd had once been posh and so I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbours sold at a loss. In the end all the cultures will live in their own parts of the UK. It is inevitable.

The Arboretum – the first public park in the UK - had been a source of pride and the locals often liked to stroll around admiring the various attractions of the place. Then in the 1960s it suddenly became full of men loitering on the mounds playing cards. It seemed that these people didn’t have any respect for the gardens. The decline of the Arboretum prefigured the decline of Derby as a whole. Many of the newcomers didn’t have any pride in the city. The crazily painted house on Dairyhouse Rd was another sign that things were getting strange. On top of this we had corrupt and stupid councillors destroying beautiful buildings. I don’t live in Derby anymore and you’d have to pay me a lot of money to live there now. But it’s not just Derby. Things are in decline everywhere in the UK. I was in a small town in Devon the other week and I could see signs of the same cultural changes that have destroyed Derby.

It just seems like yesterday when Leighton James signed for us. I thought he did well, but the Doc wanted him out. Leighton went on to have a very long career and I think it was a big mistake letting him go. I can remember listening to him on some kind of Desert Island Discs type show on Radio Derby around 1976 and thinking he was quite an old fashioned type of young man. He was a big Jim Reeves fan. There’s nothing wrong with that but it was unusual for someone his age. I followed his career when he left Derby and I was happy to see him do so well at Swansea, Sunderland and Burnley. Leighton’s replacement on the wing, Gerry Ryan, also died not long ago. I have many plans for the future and I would feel cheated if I didn’t make it to at least 85 and so it feels strange to see footballers, who were once much fitter than me, passing away – especially when they are younger than me. It is possible that Leighton and Gerry didn’t keep fit after football. I don’t know. It could be that they were just unlucky. Some people get off the train and some stay on. Eventually we will all get off, but some people have will have had very long journeys. Cliff Jones, who was another winger and who is a generation older than the above two, was giving keep fit lessons online during the lockdown.