Bucket List Item 50: Visit My Town's Twin Town

This has always been a thing I've been interested in. That the place where I live is somehow mysteriously linked with an enigmatic town in another country with an exotic sounding name.

Earlier this year I won an overnight trip on the Eurotunnel. I was trying to decide what to do with it when I realised I could finally visit one of these mysterious places in a faraway land.

Hythe where we live is twinned with two towns - Berck-sur-Mer in France and Poperinge in Belgium. As we had already booked our summer holiday for Marseilles, we decided to go to Belgium for this trip which we tied in with our anniversary celebrations. We booked a slightly extravagant hotel (we were being decadent) with a bed so big I couldn't reach the edges and a really cool bath and headed over. It also had free sherry and brandy. Winners.

It turns out that our twin towns aren't quite as faraway as I'd previously thought. It took us less time to get to Poperinge than it takes to get to Oxford or Southampton or anywhere else that seems like it should be nearer.

Jo managed to tick something off her unrecorded bucket list by driving in Europe whilst I navigated us there. These roles definitely work to our skillsets as I'm not keen on driving but I'm great at planning and I love maps, and vice versa for her.

I'm quite glad I waited until I had moved to Hythe to complete this item. I previously lived in Folkestone (admittedly only 10 minutes drive away) which is twinned with Etaples-sur-Mer. I don't know much about the place, but it definitely doesn't seem as interesting as Poperinge is.

I didn't know much about Poperinge either, really. I didn't even know how to pronounce the name (Popper-Ing-Err, if you're interested). However, I did know that the town had a lot of beer related connections which made me quite excited to visit.

We therefore made our first stop the Hopmuseum. It was informative and we got to smell a lot of hops but there was a lot less beer drinking involved as part of that tour than I had hoped there would be. I insisted then that we made our next stop a beer bar that they do so well in Belgium. I love anywhere that has a beer menu and the place that we found was fantastic, cheap and gave us free peanuts. We both had a local Poperinge beer which probably tasted even better due to having to wait so long for it.

I had wanted to eat at a restaurant called Markt 38 as according to Trip Advisor it is the best restaurant in the city. I didn't think that the best restaurant in the city might be fully booked on a Saturday night so we went to a hotel nearby to try more Poperinge beer and have quite a posh meal. Not as posh (or as expensive) as the breakfast we would have in our hotel the following day but quite posh, with an amazing local desert that I have completely forgotten the name of but was an apple and cinnamon thing which I completely recommend.

The other thing that the town is largely associated with is the First World War. One of the reasons it is linked with Hythe is Talbot House, a club for soldiers established by Lord Talbot of Hythe. Unfortunately we weren't able to visit - apparently they have lovely tea and cakes. There is a war memorial in the town and around 40 soldiers were executed in the city.

The following morning we took a visit to Lijssenthoek Military Cemetery. It is a ten minute drive
from the city and, as always with this sort of experience, is very humbling. The visitor centre gives you an idea of the size of the military hospital which in itself is mind blowing (around 4,000 patients at any one time) but then going out to see the graves of over 10,000 and being unable to comprehend what you are seeing, when it is still such a small portion of the total number of dead... it's one of those things that always hits me emotionally.

Overall, the city was a lovely place. It was great to also go somewhere that we knew next to nothing about and to learn the local history and sample the local food and drink.

Duckman: The Origins

I'm going to let you into a secret. I'm a superhero.

I know, it's difficult to take in. Let me just remove my glasses. It will seem much more plausible then.

It all started when I was on "tour" with my band. We were staying at The Billing Aquadrome. The place is as wonderful as it sounds. I think the magic of the place might have been what caused me to turn into a superhero. It might be my radioactive spider.

Every superhero needs an origin story, and this is mine. It is not as heartbreaking as seeing my parents murdered. It's not as scientific as a spider bite. I'm not a multimillionaire. I haven't been able to make my own technology. I'm not a mutant (as far as I can tell).

Not an actual picture of me as Duckman. I like to keep my identity secret.

All I have is my wits and a power to control the actions of ducks. Allow me to set the scene.

We were playing Olympic Frisbee. I say playing, we were training really. We never made it to Olympic standard. The reasons for this will become obvious shortly.

It was early in the morning. We'd just had a bit of breakfast and were in the process of waking up before we worked out our plan for the day. One of us - I can't remember who but it wasn't me as I'm awesome - failed to catch the Frisbee and it went into a nearby lake.

Everyone was distraught. They thought our game was over and the disc lost forever. Whilst they were busy crying and lamenting, I was not to be stopped.

"LEWIS! GET ME THE BREAD!" I commanded.

Lewis, being inferior to me in every way (although he never says it, I know he thinks of me as his hero), followed my every command. He hurried over to where our food supply was and brought me back a loaf of bread.

Using this as my conduit, I summoned the ducks nearby towards the Frisbee. Throwing bits of bread just in front of them where I wanted them to go I controlled them using nothing but the power of my mind to nudge the Frisbee back to us.

Everyone around bowed down at my feet, for they had never seen such a feat before. Women wanted to be with me. Men wanted to be me. The game of Olympic Frisbee continued.

This is how I became Duckman - controller of ducks using only the power of his mind! (And occasionally bread).

Duckman is looking for partners for a kick ass superhero team. Apply within.

Even Rocky had a montage...

There has been a thing going around on that there internet that they invented. It is to do with the fact that in the United States around 22 veterans of various ages commit suicide every day.

To raise awareness of this issue, a challenge has been going around to attempt to do 22 press ups a day for 22 days. The idea is that you video yourself doing it and tag a friend each day to get them to do the same. 

My "friend" Steve Ashley tagged me in one of his videos, which I thought was a bit mean of him. I'm a man who likes a challenge though and so I decided to give it a go.

September also happens to be national suicide prevention awareness month. Anything that can reduce the stigma around suicide, whether caused by PTSD or one of many other factors is a good idea in my book. I think that nowadays 

I decided to do the challenge a bit differently to others. I didn't want to upload a video on Facebook everyday because I am already narcisstic enough on there already as it is and seeing a video every day is bit like overkill. I also didn't want to annoy 22 other people by nominating them to do the challenge as well. If people want to, then fine. I didn't want to make anyone feel guilty for not doing it, or pressured into doing it.

I also thought that a montage would be much cooler. 

I also chose to do the challenge as I know that I don't do enough exercise and in itself it is a good thing. Having the motivation to do so would be a good thing as I'm usually too lazy to force myself to do exercise. It turns out that doing press ups every day makes you better at press ups. Who would have thunk it? You will notice this if you watch the montage video. 

Raising awareness is just one part of the solution and so I decided that I would donate money to the Royal British Legion. I chose to give them £22 as it was an important number in the challenge, plus £1 for every press up that I missed. One day I was so ill that I was only awake for 4 hours and so missed those press ups, and so I have donated £44. 

Below are a montage video plus a video of all the press ups. If it looks like any are missing, then that's as a result of my poor editing rather than actually missing any.

Here is my montage video:

Or if you want to watch every single press up:

My 4 stages of confusion about Pokemon Go

Confusion Stage 1: What is Pokemon Go?

At this stage I was blissfully unaware of what Pokemon Go was. I had never played a pokemon game before and didn't understand what it was about, other than the fact that you have to catch them all. It sounded to me like an electronic version of a Panini football sticker book.

Adam was telling me about it a couple of weeks ago when he had managed to get the app via some super secret l337 haxxor method. Or something. He was extremely excited and giving me loads of information about what goes on. So I had some sort of understanding after this, but I was still really confused.

Adam's excitement about the matter persuaded me to download it. I wanted to be doing what all the cool kids do. This progressed me onto stage 2 of the process.

Confusion Stage 2: I don't understand Pokemon Go.

It was quite cute. I liked the fact that the warning when you load up the game is is "Don't walk into a Giant Monster's Mouth." It amused me enough to give the game a few goes. I didn't understand what was going on really and forgot that I had the app.

As a few more days passed and the app was all over the news and I spoke to more cool kids who were playing it, I started giving it a few more goes. I still didn't understand it but I carried on playing every so often for a few minutes on the walk to the supermarket.

Confusion Stage 3: Why am I addicted to Pokemon Go?

I have just been for a lovely 3 km walk. Unlike running, I do really enjoy walking. I find it a pleasant form of exercise, in which I can take in the lovely surroundings and learn about where I am. I really like reading the signs which tell you about local history, checking out the architecture, enjoying the seaside.

I popped into the library and borrowed a couple of books, discovered that they have a town history museum in there, learnt about my town, got a bit of sunshine and had a really nice time.

I would not have gone for this walk if I hadn't somehow become addicted to Pokemon Go. My route was basically dictated by where PokeStops are located in my town (5 within a minute's walk of my house - one of the many benefits to living in the town centre).

Transferring between stage 2 and stage 3 was when my understanding of the game clicked and I knew exactly what was going on. I don't know how this happened but it did.

What I can't understand though, is why I am addicted to it. All I am doing is walking and pushing a button on my phone every so often. I don't know why I want to do this but I want to. It's a really weird state to be in. Even after reading this article on the Forbes website, I am no closer to understanding.

Confusion Stage 4: Why is there a dying fish?


The Pokemon all seem to be based loosely on real life animals. This sort of makes sense. It allows kids to have an understanding of what the monsters are.

I was really freaked out by one that I caught last night, though.

Magikarp.

A fish.

Flapping around.

Out of water.

Dying.

Why does this exist?

So freaked out.

Pirates and Pirates and Pirates

It was Layla's birthday this week, which reminded me of something I've been meaning to write about for ages.

Pirates and Pirates and Pirates
supported by Hattie Hatstar

Once upon a time, in a field not too far away... Merton Farm in Canterbury, to be precise. At Lounge on the Farm. In the year two thousand and ten. The greatest band ever were formed!

We were at the festival for what I think was the second of the three years I went for, and Lynsey had started running a Quarterhouse Stage. Unfortunately they had a couple of performers drop out and were looking for replacements.

Stefan, probably fuelled by a beer or two at the time, suggested to her that he and I - who had never played music together previously - could fill a slot on the bill.

Me, probably fuelled by a beer or two at the time, went along with this and suggested that it would be a really great idea.

Lynsey, probably fuelled by whatever her choice of beverage is, was somehow convinced that we would actually be able to put on a performance and gave us a slow on Sunday afternoon, giving us a day and a half to get our shizzle together.

The first thing any band needs is a name. Then you know what sort of band you've got. There was a band playing at the festival called Cats and Cats and Cats. I had seen them earlier and thought they were quite good. Afterwards, I had nodded at one member of the band assuming that they were someone that I knew. They looked at me weirdly. I then realised that I knew who they were but that had no clue who I was.

Someone, I think James most likely, was telling me a story about how they had almost called themselves Parrots and Parrots and Parrots. "Pirates and Pirates and Pirates?" says I. "That's an awesome name, let's take it." So we did.

We managed to borrow an acoustic guitar. Neither Stefan nor I can sing. He told me I had to as the guitar was right handed, and with me being left handed, this was the logical way to arrange the band. I had never been encouraged to sing in a band before. Mainly because people I've been in bands with have heard me sing.

This gave us Saturday to write songs. We had to borrow Dan Light's diary so I could write lyrics down, and we sat around the campfire mainly writing songs about things that had happened to us over the course of the festival.

We wrote a song called No Cash Back about how the bars on site weren't giving any cash back so James had to walk into town to get to a cash machine. We wrote another called Hobo Joe about a guy called Joe who Dan Light found sleeping in his tent one evening.  There was The Ballad of Dan Light about Dan Light graffiti which had been appearing mysteriously on site and which we had absolutely nothing to do with.

On Sunday morning, it was Layla's birthday. This is why I remembered that it was the 6th anniversary of the formation of the band when it was her birthday. Mainly because we then wrote a song about her birthday called Layla's Birthday. It lasts 10 seconds and has the lyrics "Layla, it's your birthday, but we're not celebrating."

For her birthday, Sophie had bought Layla a toy xylophone. This meant that she instantly made it into the band. Ben wanted to be in the band, and we wanted him to be in the band because he could actually sing. So he got in too. I seem to recall we also bought some sort of whistle from the Siesta tent for him to play as well. The drummer from Stefan's actual band was at the festival. Stefan grabbed him, some saucepans and wooden spoons and he became our drummer.

We rehearsed briefly as a full band and then at 4.30pm we were unleashed upon the unsuspecting world. We had been spreading the word a bit, and as it's quite a small festival we actually managed to get maybe 30 or 40 people we knew come along to watch us which I was extremely impressed with, especially as we had been talking down the band all weekend.

When we finished playing Hobo Joe, we discovered that Joe was actually a friend of a friend who had come along to watch us and that he was actually quite embarrassed by what had happened.

During the Ballad of Dan Light, Dan himself held up big bits of card which he had taped on True and False, to coincide with whether the statements about him were true of false. Attempting to "sing" the lyrics to the song whilst he was doing so is one of the funniest and most enjoyable memories that I've got.

We finished with a song called Thank You Lynsey thanking her for letting us play her stage. We added in information about things about her that Sophie had informed us about so we could embarrass her slightly, before legging it from the stage.

A few months later, Stefan came over to my house and we attempted to record the songs. There is a link below, but they are not as good as the originals, especially as they are lacking several instruments and I attempted the drums by filling a container with coins which really doesn't work.

 Although the band never officially split up, they have been on an indefinite hiatus. Perhaps there will be a reunion one day. Judging from how many times my old band have had reunions, nothing can be ruled out.


The band:
Stewart Cork - "singing"
Stefan Birkett - guitar
Ben Bailes - vocals, whistle and pretend trumpet
Layla Silbert - toy xylophone
Tom the Drummer - pots and pans

Songs from Dan Light's Diary:
1 No Cash Back
2 Ballad of Dan Light
3 Hobo Joe
4 Piracy Funds Terrorism
5 Hotter Than The Med
6 Nice Guys Finish Last
7 Layla's Birthday
8 Thank You Lyndsey

A version of these songs can be heard at https://soundcloud.com/pirates-2/sets/songs-from-dan-lights-diary

Bucket List Item #48: Climb Scafell Pike

Once upon a time, I went on a little road trip around England. One of the things I was wanting to do was to climb Scafell Pike. I ended up not doing so. For a few reasons. 

1. It is really big and I am generally quite lazy.

2. I was on my own and thought I might navigate myself to certain doom.

3. The weather was supposed to be bad for climbing mountains.

So instead I did other things. However, climbing the mountain got put on my bucket list as a result of not climbing it. I resolved to do so when I wasn't so lazy, had someone to navigate me away from doom and when it wasn't so windy.

Therefore, I gathered a band of intrepid adventures and we made our way to the Lake District on holiday (having previously done a similar thing in Snowdonia at the same time last year) to complete this feat. Due to amazing planning, we were there the week that the wettest place in the country had its summer and all managed to get a little bit of a sunburn.

The mountain is 980 metres high. This doesn't sound like much until you try to go that high. Then it sounds a lot harder. When you have been climbing an hour and still can't see the summit, it appears infinite. 

Compared to Snowdon, it is actually smaller, however as a climb it is a lot more intense. Snowdown has more scrambly bits (I learnt that the technical term is scree) but also more flat bits. Scafell Pike is basically a 980 metre staircase. With big rocky stairs. I thought I knew what to expect having done Snowdon but this was a lot more intense. But we all managed it, see! Go team!

Several years ago, I always got confused by people who went up mountains because they were there. Now I am that kind of person, and I can recommend it. You get a great sense of achievement, and you feel like you are on top of the world (both literally and metaphorically) and that you can achieve anything.  I would definitely recommend it, as long as you have some idea what you are letting yourself in for and prepare adequately in advance.

There has already been talk about doing Ben Nevis next year to complete what is one of the slowest Three Peaks challenges, I am just giving my body a little time to recover before telling it about this.

We could be heroes

Last week's Big Issue was a heroes edition. They had famouses talk to other famouses in the pretext of interviewing them so they didn't feel nervous and awkward about their desire to speak to another famous just because they were someone they admired.

The other day I went to see Richard Herring. I'm a bit of a fanboy of his. I have been a fan since

watching Fist of Fun and This Morning With Richard Not Judy (TMWRNJ) back when I was at school. I have seen him perform 4 or 5 times now, bought DVDs, listen to some of his many podcasts. I even got a bit excited when he emailed me back after I sent him an email about his Me 1 v Me 2 podcast where he plays himself at snooker.

I had an opportunity to meet him after the show. He was selling books and DVDs and chatting to fans. It wasn't a long queue and wouldn't have been too much of my time to queue up and meet him. The opportunity to meet my hero. And yet I didn't want to do it.

Thinking about why I didn't want to is a little odd. I know I'd want to say something clever or memorable. I also believe that I'd mess it up and say something stupid. I'm also not sure what I'd gain from a very short interaction with him.

When I was at university, I used to work for the local newspaper and I got to interview the big bands that came to town. I especially remember interviewing Stove, the bass player from Mansun who were (and still are) one of my favourite bands. If there was ever a time to be nervous and say something stupid to a famous, that was the time. However, I think I did fine - or at least as fine as any 18 year old can do when in that sort of situation.

Not wanting to meet my heroes is not a new thing. I support West Ham United and they came down to play against Folkestone in a pre-season friendly many years ago. My family when to the bar and meet the players and staff - including my 12 year old brother being offered a pint by Harry Redknapp - while I was sat in the stand with my friend. However, missing that experience isn't something I have ever regretted.

You're told that celebrities are just nice normal people like you or I (or at least you're told that some of them are). I think maybe that's the problem. I don't want them to be like me. I want them to have some sort of mystique. Something other worldly. Something that makes them more interesting than just a regular human.

And also, I think I'd want to say something cool but I know I'd just say something ridiculously embarrassing like squeaking out "You were a joy to watch."