The Artist – Jonathan Greenbank

Hi, can I talk to you for a minute?

Summer continued with searing heat and long days spent anticipating an upcoming trip to Tuscany, as well as some lovely little gems of popular culture along the way. We wound down, watching the calming ‘Walking With…’ series, available on iPlayer, especially the Jim Moir episode as he marched towards Dungeonness Power Station; several cookery programmes and listening to myriad podcasts whilst pottering in the garden, and then The Strokes’ new album, Reality Awaits, not just a nice sound but also aptly named for this time of year (they’re like mind readers, them – their New Abormal album was also released at the start of the Pandemic!

One of their most famous tracks from yesteryear was Reptilian, and – as if by magic – a common theme of our trip to Italy was the presence of reptiles. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The holiday was perfect: well, almost.

• (Benjamin) Well, I would say that I’m just drifting. Here in the pool.
• (Mr Braddock) Why?
• (Benjamin) Well, it’s very comfortable just to drift here.

I started with a poster for The Graduate because at some point over the ten days, I was floating on a lilo in the scorching sun and I realised I was re-living one of its most seminal scenes:

• Mrs Robinson: Isn’t there something you want to tell me?
• Benjamin: Tell you?
• Mrs Robinson: Yes.
• Benjamin: Well, I want you to know how much I appreciate this. Really.

And, as a caveat, I appreciate how lucky we’ve been when lots of people aren’t as fortunate. Many a summer has been spent enviously looking at others’ holiday photos and experiences. And I don’t think we’ll be going away again any time soon, so will admit that we made the most of our opportunity and the chance to spend quality time together and with extended family in a very idyllic location. And to relax, ponder life’s complexities and appreciate (very different) surroundings…

It all started with a missed alarm, meaning a rush to the airport and unnecessary stress from the start. Then, a minor car accident in a supermarket car park (when an Italian Karen insisted on calling the police) – when a 500-day streak on Duolingo couldn’t help fill out insurance documents – and more minor horror at the effects of Brexit on food and drink prices compared to back here; there were screams at sightings of snakes in the swimming pool, toads in the watering can, geckos drowned and much bigger lizards climbing the walls. At one point I was locked in a bathroom, with only the kids to rescue me (I rescued myself, eventually) There also involved a broken watch, bought especially for the holiday and twinned with a Guardian journalist as we prepared for take off whilst E was being sick, and a two hour wait on the tarmac to come home.

But there was also so much more to enjoy. Doing La Passegiata around the town, enjoying various gelato flavours such as caramelised onion and pineapple & basil; witnessing an actor performing solo The Divine Comedy nightly; markets, exotic food and drink, developing confidence speaking about calcio; meeting great waiting staff such as Daniele, a AS Roma Ultra and the Luciano Spalletti lookalike who claimed to have met Maradona when he was a baby and served us the most memorable steak, a Bistecca Alla Fiorentina, plus other unforgettable foodstuffs such as lardo and lampredotto and overall, love.

The warm weather and time by the pool afforded us much needed relaxation and I managed to read four books in ten days. These were carefully chosen: Saturday Night, Sunday Morning by Alan Sillitoe (a nod to Morrissey’s inspirations); In Pursuit of Italy, a history of the complicated formation of the modern day country that I’d started whilst poolside in Venice, three days earlier (which taught me that Mussolini was a huge fan of the town nearest where we were staying and changed its landscape forever); The Long Shoe by Bob Mortimer, hilarious and continuing the themes of his other novels (I’ve now lent them to someone on the up and up) and finally, perhaps most intriguingly, Finders, Keepers – a fascinating project by Nicholas Royle – in which he documents his efforts to trace owners of second hand books he buys, returning found objects, following maps, repeating journeys using tickets discarded forever.

This last book – and trips to Tuscan museums such as What Holds Us, Antony Gormley’s immersive exhibition at the Galleria Continua and even some of the macabre exhibits in the town’s Museo della Tortura e della Pena di Morte – inspired some creative work of my own, a Joseph Cornell-inspired assemblage celebrating the restaurant where my Maradona portrait had once stood. We went there to celebrate B’s thirteenth and were glad to say the service and pizza were better than ever, and so was the music, curated as it was by the excellent DJ and storyteller PJ Smith, who’d kindly invited me to a showing of of Algorithm Party at Crosby Plaza, with a Q&A afterwards, and whilst I’d met him a couple of times previously, I’d not heard / read his narratives and was blown away by their brutality, their viscosity and their relevance, often namechecking places important to me over the past twenty seven years.

I bought, and thoroughly enjoyed, his new book – Boomerang Process – and saw him twice the following weekend.

Check him out!

“Would you mind telling me then what those four years of college were for? What was the point of all that hard work?”

The following weekend, I somewhat serendipitously met the questioner of said Q&A at a wonderful wedding in the beautifully decadent Art Deco surroundings of the Prince of Wales Hotel, close to our own nuptials site, a brilliant occasion to celebrate the nuptials of two of my oldest friends and it was brilliant to reminisce not just my university and subsequent ‘creative’ years – as Samuel Beckett once said, “Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn’t want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn’t want them back” – but also a stolen couple of hours at our wedding venue, getting talking to a bartender who started working at the Vincent just after we were married there and remembering those halcyon days where we could drink and dance like there was no tomorrow.

There was, of course, a tomorrow – and a big event!

“It’s like I was playing some kind of game, but the rules don’t make any sense to me.”

You might be a bit like me and not know a lot about Joji but my (now teenage) daughter is a huge fan and so we decided to get tickets for his Solaris tour at the recently opened Co Op Live. What a place. You enter via the expanded Pep Guardiola stand at the Etihad and there’s a similarly impressive welcome from the staff in the venue, from the care shown giving out water to assisting and explaining other options, the service almost justified the prices (forget £9.20 for a pint, £4.50 for a packet of Squashies was the really upsetting aspect) but thankfully the performances of not just the main act but also his support (I’ve been singing Tommy Richman’s Million Dollar Baby for a few days now) and after a wonderful night, walking out into the Manchester rain – biblical, as other Mancs might attest – making it the perfect evening, arguably the first time I’ve gone to a gig not knowing both the music of the featured artist and the venue itself, and being more than pleasantly surprised. I actually thought it was Serge Gainsbourg, not him. on the t-shirt I bought her before the gig, which probably shows my age…

“You’ll never be young again.” / “I know.” 

We still need to mention, as Jose Gonzalez sang, the colours red and blue – namely, the new SpiderMan movie and the beautiful messed up superheroes that are Everton, and I’m please to say that both impressed in recent weeks. I met a friend from down south in town to show him the way to HD for the Lille friendly, even though I wasn’t attending the match due to the aforementioned wedding, and it was lovely but weird to have a couple of drinks and walk towards the stadium then not actually go in, seeing loads of familiar faces but head to Sandhills rather than the turnstiles, and I took solace in the fact that I’d be back a week later for a thoroughly enjoyable first game of the season. Meanwhile, E was keen to attend the new Marvel MCU movie and I found myself really engrossed in what I thought was a great re-introduction to the superhero phenomenon apparently continually gripping our youth.

Summer was fading, but we prevailed.

We returned to Southport – some lovely stuff on show at The Atkinson, especially by the sculptors / painters Brian and George Fell who have made things we’ve seen in Morecambe, Kirkby and Southport itself, and the other arty experiences had come at The Bluecoat with an interesting, interactive exhibition by Debjani Banerjee: Jalsaghar; Museum of Liverpool to check my Wombats piece was still alive, and the immense ‘pirate boat’ the Nao Santa Maria and the thought-provoking Think Of Us all around the Albert Dock, portraits of Year 6 students from across Merseyside about to start high school.

Let’s hold that thought, just for a little while longer…

We end with Everton, and a promising start to the season. Fresh new kits, two clean sheets, exciting performances and reminders of why we’re the People’s Club; we loved finding ourselves on the giant photo mural (made up we’re part of Seamus) and, at Preston away, it was hard staying silent, what with our divided loyalties (hence the half and half scarves, the only time such things are acceptable) but we managed it and have started the new season – and soon, term – with unusual optimism.

“I want it to be… different.”

Beto than usual, you might say!

Only yesterday, I was talking to someone (B’s brilliant tae kwon do teacher) about how the best series nowadays have short releases ending in cliffhangers and it resonated perfectly with this because a) I’ve been watching A LOT of TV recently and b) I’m a bit pressed for time so it made sense to split the summer entry into two.

Back to early June we go, and the excellent Karate Kid – The Musical which did a great job of retelling the classic story with extra dances and catchy songs and some beautiful choreography.

Another wonderful shared experience with B came the week after and the impressive Lionesses performance against Ukraine, at Hill Dickinson – I’ll never tire of that place – whetting the appetite for the upcoming World Cup.

I must admit I wasn’t overly excited for the tournament, maybe it was an inability to get away with collecting stickers this time, or the over commercialisation, OTT expansion and ludicrous kick off times. The highlight of the early rounds was getting a photo of Betsy onto Sky Sports News, and having a T-shirt from USA 94 that my Uncle Stan had kept for me to wear for the opening ceremony.

Soon I warmed to the competition, realising that this would be E’s version of Italia 90: I was exactly the same age then as he is now, what with the ultimate failure at the last hurdle and a disappointing final. Still, Messi, excitement at doing well in the predictor, some beautiful kits and some unexpected classic matches made it such a memorable few weeks.

Talking of Argentinian heroes, and t-shirts, I wore my new favourite to a day out at Blackpool Pleasure Beach during the really hot spell, when my inner Mr Briggs came out and I marvelled at the seagulls that frequent the fair, whilst two babies hatched around the corner and even now the watchful parents warn us passers by not to go near their fearless fledglings.

In between times, we lost David Hockney – he of the iconic photo montages, sausage dogs, smoking campaigning and quite beautiful portraits and landscapes and for me, wonderful early works dedicated to myriad objects of his affection. This one (above) was his own love letter to Cliff Richard from his student days.

To lighten the mood, there came the viewing: the funny Alice and Steve, yet another rewatching of The Goonies, reminders of the brilliant One Crazy Summer – a bizarre belter of a childhood comedy set in Nantucket – with the engrossing 5 Star Weekend, which we binged over five days.

Then, there was the finale of The Bear – the Caramel episode of series five was particularly memorable, and I don’t mind admitting that I shed a few tears during the last hour or so, not just because of how events unfolded but also because it dawned on me that this was actually the end of it.

To cheer us up, there came Andy Burnham, I’ll just share what I wrote about him a few years back and emphasise how pleased and proud I was to have met the prime minister on a couple of occasions and how he conducted himself during the difficult first couple of weeks, plus the changes he has already made. I felt extremely lucky to be able to watch the rolling news coverage of his first day in office, subsequent interviews and features, knowing that I’ve met him a couple of times (and that he will have read the article above, maybe even this blog post) and look forward to seeing him at HD when the season kicks off again.

Back to comfort viewing, and I made a list of everything I wanted to watch over the holiday. I’m already halfway through the list, which is good, and so far the highlights included the gripping thriller The Housemaid, the family friendly and very funny The Sheep Detectives, starring Nicholas Galatzine who was also He-Man in the cheesy but clever Masters of the Universe, which brought back great memories of the toys and stories of my childhood. Even Orko, my favourite toy and character back in the day, makes an appearance.

We had days out at New Brighton, beautiful Croxteth Country Park, and into town for the excellent show at Dorothy by Anthony Burrill, Joy! Pure Joy! visiting some old and new favourite haunts along the way, reminiscing the summer of 2000 – I’ve been listening to loads of music from the time and watching TOTP classics – as well as lots of Italy food programmes, the new series of another all time favourite of mine, Gomorrah – with its fantastic characters, clever storytelling and beautiful but gritty backdrops of 1970s Naples.

It’s been relaxing, listening to the great Smiths and Madchester podcast series on BBC Sounds, spending warm summer days indoors writing this frightening verse and watching cute creatures on Animal Park, old journeys by Rick Stein and following James Martin in Spain, discovering unwatched Tales of the Unexpected, always trying to guess the outcome, the clever and intriguing Ride or Die, revisiting old series of the funny Friday Night Dinner realising that I used to look and act like the Adam character but now am definitely more Martin (especially in this recent heatwave!)

But the real highlight of the holiday so far was the open Preston North End training session I got us tickets for on a whim and what a wonderful day it was. We’ve been to similar events at Everton before and great days were had, but this time felt even more special because it was more intimate and personal, not just because I got to take my dad as-well as son, having had my first taste of live football in the late eighties at Deepdale with great players like Brian Mooney, Tony Ellis and Ian Bogie, but also because the players seemed to genuinely appreciate the support and went around signing autographs for everyone there; not just the first team squad and manager but also Deepdale Duck and the famous Spud Bros who stayed behind for a penalty shootout with two of the star players.

Hopefully it will bring them luck for the season, especially as they’re playing Barcelona then at Goodison… sadly we won’t be able to attend either, but that’s a story for another day…

Summer is coming! The most wonderful time of the year, for many… including yours truly, after months of stress, slog and sleepless nights, six weeks of bliss slowly approach.

But before then – lots to tell about!

We start at the World Museum, and a trip to the newly renovated natural history rooms, when – around the same time – rumours abounded that Jonathan The Tortoise, the oldest known living land creature in the world, had died. Thankfully, though, the roughly 193 year old animal remains alive and well, the April Fool catching out many. And, talking of jokes, we thoroughly enjoyed the hilarious new series of Last One Laughing, as well as more of The Pitt and The Miniature Wife and the surreal yet very interesting Mint, a modern day Romeo & Juliet crossed with Trainspotting and La La Land. One of the best things I watched recently was actually Race Across The World, something I’d never bothered with before hand but became besotted with, with likeable couples negotiating their way from Italy to Asia amid some beautiful sights and journeys.

Talking of which, there has also been lots of football: a positive end to the season for Marine, runners up and then winners’ trophies for the boy and a hugely enjoyable training session at Hill Dickinson seeing the heroes and a robot up close. A fantastic match against Manchester City, less so in the derby – my first since Gosling’s Tic Tac goal seventeen years ago, E and my dad’s first ever – but the atmosphere before and the coach welcome will live long in the memory.

And that blue sky…

I have to say the end of the season was a bit of an anti-climax, really. It was good to see Seamus one last time, even if the Sunderland game was an unmitigated disaster, though thankfully we still had events in Scotland to enjoy – I can’t condone the controversy around the ugly scenes of pitch invasions and the arguments over VAR decision will continue throughout the summer, but the excitement of the championships both north and south of the border whetted the appetite for the world cup, where – even if many of the games will be unwatchable – many of the kits are worth looking at alone!

More TV, then: The Cage, a nice story set in our city and featuring a talented young man I used to teach; another series of the wonderful Tucci in Italy, featuring an incredible ‘Rock spaghetti’ cooked with sea water and rocks from the ocean; more Anthony Bourdain, to commemorate the anniversary of his passing and to whet the appetite for the upcoming film of his life; saying good bye again to Pep / hello again to new MP Andy Burnham being on the front of the papers in his retro Everton shirt.

Another great day was had at Comic Con, meeting La Russo Jr, and seeing some Dogpool merchandise that matched my Sgt Pepper’s t-shirt (more of which to come!) then high culture, at last: the amazingly powerful To Kill A Mockingbird at the Empire Theatre, a truly beautiful story presented perfectly and so resonant for these times. Then, a lovely article about holding hands, about how fathers stop holding their sons’ hands (we still do, thankfully, and I’m very grateful for that) which I read somewhat aptly on an unexpected day off to look after my own poorly son, and it linked nicely to the best book I’ve read, not just recently but for a long time: John & Paul, A Love Story in Songs by Ian Leslie.

It’s a very cleverly written take on their growing relationship and subsequent distancing, with every chapter a Beatles / Wings / Lennon & Oko etc song title. I loved that it started with McCartney’s response to Lennon’s death, that seminal day at the Dakota Building which had a ripple effect right across the world, even to a terraced house on Franklin Street in Lancaster when a little girl misheard her father’s shout down the stairs and recounted to her horrified mum that ‘Jonathan’s been shot’ but the coincidences didn’t stop there: there was the tale of Paul’s 21st birthday at his Aunt Gin’s house, which I didn’t know had been right around the corner from where WW grew up and my in-laws still reside, and also that Strawberry Fields Forever was written when John was filming Oh! What a Lovely War in Almeria, Spain – the exact location of where I read the entire book across three sunkissed days in the Spanish sub-desert.

We went away to celebrate a special birthday, and couldn’t believe how lucky we were to have chosen somewhere so picturesque, interesting and serene, with beautiful food and drink. We will be back because we all fell in love with the place and also the sometimes surreal smorgasbord that is all inclusive drinks and buffets from morning until night.

Coming home was hard, but the weather at least made it easier to acclimatise on our return, and there was another great piece of TV to enjoy – well, endure – with the brilliantly written and acted Tip Toe. It’s tragic that it tells the story of what many people suffer, and at a time when our country feels more divided than ever, it was perfectly timed for Pride month, and a time when allies like me are needed more than ever to step up – metaphorically at least – hold hands in support, like in this short film I regularly use to educate against hate (and, as if by magic, one of its main characters will be playing a Beatle in the new Sam Mendes biopics alongside another ex pupil!)

An innocent comment on Alan Cumming’s Instagram post, applauding all involved and how I will use the series to further develop my role, brought some very positive responses, thankfully proving that I, and all the Leos out there, are not alone. But, even more sadness was to come with the news that David Hockney had passed; the creator of one of my favourite paintings ever made.

There’ll be more on him, when the dust has settled on his departure…

‘Til next time, then… I’m off to watch the football!