Don't Rain On My Parade (II)...

Despite some initially pessimistic weather forecasts, Manchester Pride 2012 wasn't quite the wash out we were led to believe it would be. Saturday's Parade down Deansgate was bathed by blue skies to start with but got a little greyer by the time it reached the Village. There were stretches of sunshine that saw everyone spill out onto Canal Street and sudden showers that saw everyone run for cover again. Indeed, the same on/off weather persisted through much of Saturday, Sunday and well into Monday. I'm pleased to say that everyone's spirits weren't dampened by these occasional showers.

I guess many of us take Pride events for granted nowadays. Time was when they were more of a political rally than the carnival that we see today. I for one am pleased that they have become more of a fun event rather than the heavily policed, grim marches they once were. Now the police march with us. The theme this year was ‘Queer’d Science’, in honour of the centenary of the birth of Alan Turing, who was appallingly treated by the authorities over his homosexuality. How times change.

I was so pleased to see so many families out enjoying Manchester Pride over the weekend; there were so many kids at the event in the afternoon. And I was also pleased to see some pretty big companies, proud to sponsor Manchester Pride; companies such as easyJet, RBS Group, The Co-operative and Selfridges. It's a sign of acceptance; it's a sign of the times.

How disheartening then to wake on Sunday morning to the news that Cardinal O'Brien was to lead the Scottish Catholic Church in reading out a letter in each of the Church's parishes in Scotland criticising the Scottish government for plans to introduce gay marriage. How out of touch can these people get?

You may remember that Cardinal O'Brien called plans for gay marriage a "grotesque subversion" back in March. Having been part of Manchester Pride this weekend and seeing all the smiles and laughter and fun, I believe that the only grotesque subversion is the Scottish Catholic Church and Cardinal O'Brien.

After a damp Bristol Pride and the patchy weather that beset Manchester, let's hope that God sees fit to bathe Cardiff Mardi Gras this coming weekend in glorious sunshine. I'd pray for such weather, if I believed there was even the smallest outside chance that he existed.

1 Year Ago:

A little too highbrow...

Don't take your mum for granted...

I spent yesterday afternoon with my mum helping her choose a new mobile phone. Her contract with O2 has been up some time and I know she's been itching to get her hands on a new gadget. For a 77 year old she likes her techie toys.

When we got to the 02 shop, she said she'd like a smartphone with a touchscreen. She tried using one of the display models and soon realised that touchscreen technology maybe a step too far. Or maybe she caught sight of the look of alarm on the salesman's face as she pawed at the screen in frustration.

While she was distracted with another phone a few steps away, the salesman asked me what features did she consider to be the most important. I said, beyond making calls and texting, a good camera and enough memory to store any images. She chipped in, "And the internet, boy; definitely the internet..." I questioned this but she was quite resolved.

She eventually decided to go for a Blackberry Curve. I'd assumed that she'd want the black model but she was quite adamant that the purple model was the one for her. I questioned why the purple, adding that I thought she'd much prefer black. "No boy" came the reply, "The purple goes with my glasses..."

Parents and their favorites...

When it comes to children, parents aren't supposed to have favorites. My gran had favorites. My mother wasn't one of them. This she realised at an early age. My mother never really got on with her mother.

Swansea was one of the most heavily bombed cities in the UK during the Second World War. Children in their thousands were evacuated to the relative safety of the welsh countryside, including to Penclawdd, the village my gran lived in and I grew up in.

During the war my gran was heavily involved as a warden with the ARP (Air Raid Precautions). In fact, so heavily involved was she that she sent my Mum to stay with her aunt, my gran's sister, for a large part of the war.

And where did this aunt live? That's right, in the centre of Swansea.

A gentle man...

Born in 1931 into a large family (one of ten children), my dad was the eldest son. He never traveled. He never saw the world. Belonging was important to him - his family and the community in which he grew up. That was enough.

The picture on the right was taken in 1953. He's 21 and he's doing his National Service in the army. Despite the large amounts of booze infront of him, he never was what you'd call a big drinker.

In his younger days he was a sportsman; a professional footballer for a time and a PE instructor in the army. Sport and physical fitness were his passions. He was a true team player.

He wasn't good at expressing his feelings. Emotion was something with which he never felt comfortable. I saw him cry only twice - once when my mother left him and again when his mother died.

He was a simple man; simple in the sense that he never analysed anything deeply. He accepted what life threw at him - he always took the line of least resistance.

He never hurt anyone intentionally. Some said he was too soft for his own good. Some took advantage of his good nature. He raised his hand to me only once. His humour was always self deprecating.

The 1950s was a world he understood. The 60s puzzled him, the 70s shocked him, the 80s dismayed him and through the 90s his comprehension of the world slackened as Alzheimer's slowly took its toll.

He died eight years ago this week.

Today's run at 17:54
Distance	4.03 km	Time	22:03
Pace	5:28 min/km	Cadence	83 spm
Comments: Blustery.

Sibling rivalry...

It's a well documented phenomenon: when a second child is born the first often feels jealous of the attention given to the new arrival. It's a hard lesson; discovering that you are not the only being of importance in this universe. I reacted quite badly when my brother arrived. My solipsistic existence soon lay in tatters.

Up to and including May 27th 1965 I reigned supreme but on May 28th 1965 I'd been relegated; not just to second place but to second division. All I wanted was to regain my pre-sibling number one pole position. Nothing was going to stand in my way.

I constructed towers of wooden blocks on top of him in his cot which I then demolished - the bricks showering down on his head. I stuffed his beloved teddy up the chimney and my mother had to then throw it out - so ingrained it was with soot. I well remember the day when I threw a dart at him which lodged in his temple and my mother had to tug really hard to remove it - my brother balling his eyes out all the while.

He recently, completed his second course of chemotherapy after the cancer he thought he'd conquered returned. He's hopeful for the future. We all are. I'm meeting him for a drink tomorrow.

Today's run at 17:41
Distance	4.19 km	Time	22:23
Pace	5:20 min/km	Cadence	81 spm