The Artist – Jonathan Greenbank

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!

Time will pass you by.

Life is just a precious minute, baby
Open up your eyes and see it, baby
Give yourself a better chance
Because time will pass you
Right on by (right on by) ooh

This big old world is spinning like a top
Come and help me while we make it stop
All you have to do is live for now
Come along with me, I’ll show you how…

The seminal Northern Soul tune has played a prominent part in the first quarter of 2026, partly because we had a great evening listening and dancing to it and other classics (more of which later) but more so because time has really flown recently. In case you missed it, when last we met, I was enduring – no, enjoying – Dry January, which I’ll definitely do again. But since that time, there have been loads of lovely milestones and moments that I’ll outline in the rest of this offering, another of which offers continuity from last time where I got to hear Sunshine of Leith IRL amongst the Tartan Army. But we can’t get ahead of ourselves!

The article begins and ends with me being respectful when coming face to face with Liverpool players present and past, as one made a surprise visit to school and seemed polite, articulate and humble. The exact opposite of the behaviours shown and the incredible scenes at the end of the AFCON final, which we stayed up late to watch and read up on the conspiracy theories.

Equally as entertaining was the finale of Normal People, I really loved the use of Love Will Tear Us Apart and the bit when Connell stood in front of the Vermeer painting The Art of Painting for a day, and it really resonated. Time passed him by. I also really loved Wonder Man, which I binged over a couple of days during half term, as time passed me by for once, and look forward to its return. We enjoyed Small Prophets, a gentle and surreal comedy, and – talking of profits – we had a wonderful day out touring Rob Gutmann’s cultural quarter pubs, meeting a cool couple from Blackpool (who knew Peter Hook, by coincidence) reminiscing their student days, all before a fantastic meal at Queen’s Bistro, a gem of a place hidden away on the picturesque Queen Avenue.

I devoured my first Negroni in months, time passing by again… then came the food. The bread and butter was anything but: sourdough, with lovely light and creamy whipped butter to smear all over it, before a triumph of a steak & fries / pressed lamb shoulder combo and a grappa before complimentary limoncello, seeing as we were celebrating. I had a great chat with our waiter about his tattoo and what brought him from France to Liverpool via London (hence the EastEnders-style ink) and we agreed Scouse girls are the best!

And, talking of Scouse girls, I was lucky enough to have a lovely day out with my other one, visiting the oldest Chinatown in Europe for the New Year celebrations (spending loads of money in the process!) and touring the street art of the Baltic sidewalks before going to the great exhibition at Bluecoat, Just Browsing, featuring some brilliant ideas and opportunities to interact with the artworks. A particular favourite piece was the Please & Thank You football scarves designed by David Shrigley. I met him more than twenty years ago, when I still had that creative spark and ambition to change the world.

Time has passed me by.

Which takes us nicely to World Book Day, when the annual tradition of decorating our doors at work brought the chance to celebrate my friend’s great achievement (and book) which was timely because of the continued brilliance of Mr Pickford and, recently, his teammates during a couple of fantastic home performances meaning we’ve fallen back in love with the place, especially with the bus welcome in the sunshine before Chelsea, setting the scene for a tremendous performance and victory. We even got a lovely message from his favourite player – about to have his own time in the spotlight, which he certainly didn’t let pass by – after he was kindly shown a video he’d made about him.

All felt right in the world.

Before that, though, was that great night presented by Stuart Maconie and performed by the BBC Orchestra and some very talented singers. The whole Philharmonic was up dancing at one point, they even created the Three Before Eight as part of the encore, and we’ve been listening to Northern Soul ever since. It makes me wish I was a few years older, and had been able to experience those all-nighters first hand, as much of the audience presumably had, so for them this would have brought back lovely memories, time passing… whilst for us it, was the first time.

Not so lovely memories were evoked, meanwhile, of schooldays and being forced to play rugby in the freezing cold because of the central storyline of the excellent Gone, a gripping tale with a forceful performance by David Morrissey at its centre. Better memories from the same time, though, came with the sensational first episode of The Pitt, which we’ll indulge in over the holidays, as it reminded me of Friday nights watching ER with my parents, then more recent ones of when the kids were little and we’d watch Disney films repeatedly, with the funny and very clever Zootropolis 2.

Then, last weekend, more trips down memory lane as E played against the son of a very famous former England international and Liverpool captain (let’s just say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and our team thankfully won, to make up for some of the issues said player caused me during his career) before a trip back to Goodison for the Women’s Derby, a great game and atmosphere, it’s nearly a year since we had last been inside but it felt like we’d never been away, then straight to Marine for a tense and ultimately disappointing screening of their semi-final. We’d pencilled in a trip to Wembley, so I was gutted that won’t be happening this year, and the news came in heart-breaking fashion in the 93rd minute – time, again.

Still, only a few days later we were back at Hill Dickinson for a very different experience watching Ivory Coast v Scotland. We also met another hero on the way in, time has served him much better than it has me! The Scotch fans were as I remembered from friendlies in the nineties: drunken, loud, colourful and friendly, and it was a great experience, especially at the Ten Streets Social beforehand, which we will never forget.

And, as if by magic, we arrive at our anniversary weekend – fourteen years, no longer apparently allowed to be called ‘Ivory’, instead it’s ‘Elephant‘ – and we return to where it all began, The Vincent Hotel, with this excellent choice of poem (Hour by Carol Ann Duffy, and read by one of my oldest friends during the ceremony as it perfectly encapsulates time and love) so we end this instalment with that verse.

Hour

Love’s time’s beggar, but even a single hour,

bright as a dropped coin, makes love rich.

We find an hour together, spend it not on flowers

or wine, but the whole of the summer sky and a grass ditch.

For thousands of seconds we kiss; your hair

like treasure on the ground; the Midas light

turning your limbs to gold. Time slows, for here

we are millionaires, backhanding the night

so nothing dark will end our shining hour,

no jewel hold a candle to the cuckoo spit

hung from the blade of grass at your ear,

no chandelier or spotlight see you better lit

than here. Now. Time hates love, wants love poor,

but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.

Carol Ann Duffy