No matter if fools say we can't win, I know I'll fall in love again

So, as Young Ben and I tucked into our umpteenth chocolate egg earlier today I recalled a recent conversation I had with my youngest son who now lives in London.

He said he had been sitting at his desk on a hot day eating a Twister ice lolly and the taste of the Twister triggered a memory of warm days in Rothesay, in years gone by, eating the same product. This was a new one on me. I have songs that I hear that remind me instantly of a time or a person in my life but the thought of food doing this intrigued me

I tried to recall what tastes made an impression on me when I was young and the earliest recollection I had was from Primary School in Ayr when we used to walk down to the shops at the bottom of Heathfield Road and buy collecting cards sets like Flags Of The World or The American Civil War. Now these sets contained a flat stick of chewing gum which was one of the few forbidden fruits of my childhood. Chewing gum was one of my dad's biggest foibles. He hated the stuff. I think he would have accepted his sons committing Treason, Grand Larceny or even Patricide before seeing them chewing gum, so for years I would buy my cards and put my gum in the bin or swap it with Gordon Smith for the flag of El Salvador

I recall my dad was fond of a 'jeely piece' (which is bread and jam for you folks south of the border). Nothing strange about that I hear you say, but he also liked to have cheese on his 'jeely piece'. Now I cannot honestly say that this taste reminds me of my dad, because I have never had jam on my cheese sandwich

The food that reminds me of my mum is pancakes and syrup. She used to make them for me when I was young, which might help to explain why I am the size I am today but at the time I remember them as being delicious

I have to confess that I am not the most adventurous of Epicureans. I like my steaks well done, actually very well done, actually almost burnt. I know that makes me a bit of a pleb but I don't want my meat to be bleeding or making mooing noises when I cut into it. I want to make sure it is dead

Also I don't eat seafood. The only good things to come out of the sea were Ursula Andress in Dr No and Jacqueline Bisset in The Deep. I recall one time in Mallorca with my ex making the almost fatal error of sharing a seafood paella. There were tentacles and all sorts of squidgy little things in there. It was awful. It took several Cervezas that night to wash away the taste

I also recall I was in my twenties before I discovered coleslaw. It was a sunny day in Ayr at my brother's house and his wife had concocted this superb buffet type lunch and there it was. At that time I don't think coleslaw had reached darkest Crook in County Durham. My sister in law was always ahead of the game though. I remember she even served broccoli sometimes instead of beans or peas. I mean, what was that all about?

I also remember when our family was in Australia some years ago staying at a different sister in law we had watermelon straight from the freezer. Frozen watermelon and a cold tinnie on a blistering day in Perth....one of life's great pleasures

I wonder if in years to come Young Ben will be eating a Cadburys Creme Egg and think back to the day he spread one all over his old grandpa's face

I leave you this week with my Top 10 Food Related Songs

1. Strawberry Fields.....The Beatles
2. Rock Lobster..........The B52s
3. Chocolate Girl........Deacon Blue
4. Honey.................Bobby Goldsboro
5. Green Onions..........Booker T. and the MGs
6. Life is a Minestrone..10CC
7. Banana Republic.......The Boomtown Rats
8. One Bad Apple.........The Osmonds
9. Peaches...............The Stranglers
10. Does Your Chewing Gum Lose It's Flavour On The Bedpost Overnight (sorry dad)....Lonnie Donegan

....and I hope you appreciate how much effort it took not to include Give Peas A Chance by John Lennon

I've played the game but to my real shame, you've left me to grieve all alone

So, I owe Young Ben an apology, or rather, I think Jose Mourinho owes Young Ben an apology. Yesterday I was chatting to the youngster (that's Ben not Jose) and I told him to make sure his mum let him stay up last night to watch El Clasico. For those of you who are not familiar with the term this is the name given to games between Real Madrid and Barcelona, arguably the best club match in the world between two of the most famous sides ever

When I was young Real Madrid were the best side in the world. In 1960 at Hampden Park in Glasgow, Real beat Eintracht Frankfurt 7-3 in what many people believe was the finest football match ever seen. Puskas scored 4 goals and Di Stefano scored 3. This was the way football was supposed to be played. This was what everyone else aspired to. In those early years they won the European Cup 6 times.

In 1967 just two weeks after Celtic won the European Cup they played Real in Madrid in the Alfredo Di Stefano Testimonial. Celtic won 1-0 and the performance of Jimmy Johnstone brought applause from the home crowd, who knew and appreciated a great player when they saw one

After this Real did not win the European Cup again until the late 90's and then came the era of Los Galacticos. They signed players like Figo, Zidane, Ronaldo (the Brazilian one) Raul, Roberto Carlos and David Beckham.

In 2002 they once again won the European Cup (or Champions League as it is now) at Hampden and once again it was special. Zinedine Zidane, probably the finest player I have ever seen play live, scored arguably the best goal ever in a European Final, an exquisite volley which he made look easy and worthy of such a great occasion

I have mentioned before my sons and I saw Real beat Barca 4-2 in 2005 in the best game I have ever seen as a neutral. All of the players mentioned above were involved in that Real team along with Michael Owen

So, fast forward to 2011 and the the first of four El Clasicos last night. In a style alien to all that Real Madrid stand for Mr Mourinho plays a centre half as an extra holding midfielder in a game which he has to win to have any chance of catching Barca in the league. In the end the game finishes 1-1, a result which suits Barca far more than Real and Real's equaliser comes from an extremely dubious penalty

With regards to the forthcoming Champions League semi-finals between the sides, Jose stated in a press conference (in one he actually spoke at) that Real would practice playing with 10 men as his teams always have a man sent off in Barcelona. He failed to mention that in last year's semi-final when he was manager of Inter Milan, Inter scored a goal in the first leg which was suspiciously offside and Barca had a goal disallowed for offside in the second leg which was almost definitely not

I appreciate that Mr Mourinho is an excellent manager but his win at all costs tactics seen previously at Porto and Chelsea do nothing for me. There is an expectation at Madrid to play "The Beautiful Game". For the good of the game and Young Ben I sincerely hope Barca come out on top in the forthcoming matches

ps Special mention and congratulations to friends of our family Ross and Laura on the birth of their baby daughter Gracie earlier this week. If Gracie takes her looks, charm, brains and personality from her mum and her bad chat from her dad she will go far in the world and break a few hearts along the way, just as long as Young Ben is not one of them

he flits from shop to shop just like a butterfly, in matters of the cloth he is as fickle as can be

So, as I looked at Young Ben in all his sartorial elegance on the cover of the latest edition of Junior Vogue I recalled a fashion related incident involving my late father

I was ordering a drink for my dad and myself (he had an allergy to buying a round) in a local watering hole of the time, but one which I normally frequented alone
"Who is the whisky for?" asked Sandra behind the bar
"My dad, he's in the snug"
"I've never met your dad before. What is he wearing?"
Not exactly the most difficult of questions or one requiring the loss of a lifeline by phoning a friend
"Jacket and trousers, with a shirt and tie" A safe bet as my dad never ventured out of the house without a shirt and tie, even for a pint of milk or a trip to the laundry
"What colour of jacket?"
"Darkish" I said hopefully, not realising the Spanish Inquisition had opened a pub in the West End of Glasgow
"You are so not a girl, Ron" she announced somewhat stating the obvious, but I knew what she meant

Women notice what other people are wearing. They compare other women's clothing to their own and they also notice what men are wearing . They even notice colours and accessories

Most men might notice a woman in a short skirt or tight trousers but five minutes later it's doubtful they will remember what colour it was and men rarely notice what other men are wearing. Basically I think it's because we just don't really care. Given that we only have a limited mental capacity and brief attention span and we have to find room for the important matters in life like football, females and whose round it is, worrying about the apparel of another chap would take up valuable space best left for more pressing matters

There are however exceptions to the rule. My eldest brother who made his fortune in the fashion industry always notices what other people wear...male or female...he always has.

Years ago when when we were just starting up in the Retail Business and we would go for a drink after work he would notice the shoes and bags girls were wearing "Look! They are our shoes" he would announce proudly staring at the feet of a stunning girl whilst I was gazing at a completely different part of her anatomy. "PR7621 Cerise, look like a size 4" He also had the annoying knack of knowing the till code to every item he sold. "And that's one of our bags...DP3068 Mustard"

Obviously it was not the same girl. Even I had enough fashion sense to know that cerise and mustard just don't go together.

Quite often we nearly ended up with a sore face on a night out. "No, honestly mate we were just looking at your girlfriend's shoes" Heard it!

He also had strong opinions on ties. "You cannot buy a decent tie for under £30" he would say putting my Homer Simpson Xmas tie firmly in its place

Anyway ladies I digress. Next time you come home from a night out with friends, see if you can remember what they were wearing and then try the same question on your partner

And my dad?

He was wearing a dark brown tweed jacket with cream trousers and a white shirt with a tie which cost considerably less than £30

the sun shines east, the sun shines west, I know where the sun shines best

So, on this Mother's Day Young Ben is flying off to Tenerife with his mum and dad leaving his poor old grandpa feeling like Macaulay Culkin.

It seems only right then that on this day I say something about my own mum. My mum died in 1987 when she was only in her sixties. My dad lived for a further 20 years but he was never really the same person after my mum died. Given that she had three sons she was the only female in a house full of men but she revelled in this situation and would always join in any activities that were going on, always taking great pleasure if she managed to beat my dad at any game or sport

When I was 16 we moved from Ayr to Crook in County Durham and by this time my two older brothers had left home. I remember turning up for my first day at Wolsingham Grammar School with a fear worse than my first day at Primary School. There was I, a spotty, long haired Scots boy wearing my maroon Ayr Academy blazer. Unfortunately Wolsingham blazers were black.In later years the friends I made down there would remind me of the banter that day..."Which one is the new boy?"..."That's him standing alone at the other end of the playground with the maroon blazer on" I might as well have had a large neon sign suspended above my head reading "Spot the new boy". When I told my mum this story after school on that first day we went straight to the shops and bought a black blazer. It may well have been the best purchase my mum ever made for me.At the time it saved my life and my dignity

My mum operated an "open house" policy for my friends and I in England and was always happy to see friends visit our home. She was not the best cook in the world but she had a wonderful knack of creating something out of very little. I cannot count the times I would arrive home with an unannounced number of friends with me and she would always manage to rustle up some kind of feast. This made our house a popular meeting place and I believe it made her very happy

When we lived in England at first we would often drive back up to Scotland for the weekend to visit family. This was a drive which lasted less than three hours but regardless my mum always prepared sandwiches and a flask of tea and half way up the road we would stop for a break. She would even bring my dad his slippers and they would sit there munching away, reading the paper for a good half hour. As a teenager this used to drive me crazy, but now as I fondly look back....no, who am I kidding it still drives me crazy, it feels like I spent half my life sitting in lay-bys on the A74 (it wasn't even an M in those days)

When I first started work in England I was still living at home and every week I would give my mum the princely sum of £5. I am sure by the end of most weeks I had received at least double that amount back from her but I think it was the principle that mattered to her

I have carried the morals and principles learnt from my mum and dad with me my whole life and hopefully passed these on to my own children meaning Young Ben should benefit from the same. I believe I have a reputation for being good natured with an easy disposition. If this is so I know that these traits definitely come from my mum and my thoughts are of her today as they are everyday

I know what you're thinking, you're alone now, no love of your own, but darling.....

As Young Ben and I were reading about The Gruffalo's Child last night with accompanying noises I recalled a recent blog I read by anelephantcant about what we read at home and what we read at school. I fully agreed with the point made that reading at school is often seen as a chore whilst reading books of your own choice at home is a pleasure.

The books I read when I was younger were recommended to me by my father and in turn I encouraged my own children to read these books. Classics like Animal Farm, Of Mice And Men, The Old Man And The Sea and The Catcher In The Rye. I don't mean my children read these at Primary School, at that time they would be enjoying the delights of the wonderful Roald Dahl and his Enormous Crocodile or his BFG. I believe we read them all and I look forward to reading them again with Young Ben

As my sons have grown older book recommendations have become a reciprocal agreement and they have introduced me to some excellent books and authors which I might otherwise have missed...books like The Book Thief, Half Of A Yellow Sun and Shantaram. When my youngest son spent some time in India last year I found myself reading books set in that region such as A Fine Balance and Q and A (which was made into the movie Slumdog Millionaire) and this led me to try more contemporary books such as The Kite Runner and The Reluctant Fundamentalist which are two of the best books I have ever read

It seems to me it is not just reading which is affected by our own families. My musical tastes were definitely influenced by my two older brothers. I cannot give my father too much credit with this category although I do sometimes listen to Mr Jolson if I am feeling particularly nostalgic. Growing up in Ayr in The Sixties my brothers were both in their teens and I recall fondly listening to Dylan, Elvis and The Beatles with some Leonard Cohen thrown in if you had just been "dumped". However my most vivid musical memory is of my oldest brother coming home from town one day with his latest purchased "single" and proceeding to play Reach Out by The Four Tops Ad infinitum. You would think this would have put me off this song but to this day it remains one of my favourites and whenever it comes on the radio I still get a tingle down my spine as I am taken back in time to special days gone by.

As years passed I developed my own musical tastes and then in turn tried to pass these on to my sons. Some were successful like Springsteen, Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye others like Roxy Music or Steely Dan not so much In turn my sons have attempted to make me listen to more modern music. Most of this has fallen on stony ground but I am not averse to some John Legend or Kanye West and I found those Arctic Monkey fellows reasonably entertaining. I sometimes switch from Smooth Radio to Radio 1 for ten minutes to show that I am still "down with the kids" but by actually using the phrase "down with the kids" I have patently shown that I am in fact nowhere near to being "down with the kids".

At least Young Ben has not quite realised this yet but I get the impression he is catching on fast. The fact that I was singing Two Little Boys to him the other night has probably not helped my cause in any way but at least it did get him off to sleep (I think he was worried about Joe and those loud cannons). I reassured him the next day that it all ended well for Joe. Next time I will try a somewhat cheerier song like Old Shep or Alone Again (Naturally)

whistling tunes we hide in the dunes by the seaside

So Young Ben and I were playing chess the other day and I tried to get him with the old four move Fool's Mate. "Do you think I am only five months old?" he chuckled contemptuously and proceeded to destroy me with his Latvian Gambit. When you teach someone how to play a game of any skill, you know that the first time they beat you is the beginning of the end. Your own victories will become rare after that until you reach the stage of a "pity" victory. At that stage it is time to start playing a different game.

I speak from bitter experience here with three sons who show no compassion when it comes to beating their father at anything and I don't expect any different from Ben (not that I would want it any other way)

I have written previously about our family holidays in Rothesay and it was during evenings here, with no computers and only a small black and white television, that our game skills were honed. This was where my sons were introduced to the delights of dominoes, various card games and some games which I think my dad made up as he went along and altered the rules to suit.

Games such as pitch and toss which did nothing for the skirting paintwork, shove ha'penny and my own personal favourite which we just knew as "coins" or "matches" where each player has three coins, puts his hands behind his back and brings forward a closed fist with either 0,1,2 or 3 coins in it and the object is to guess the total number of coins produced by all players. My dad was a master of tactics here and introduced "bluffs" where he would scratch his face with his "free"hand leading you to believe that he had three coins in his closed fist (when in reality he had left coins behind his back) or even the "double-bluff" where he actually did have three coins in his fist. Watching my young sons take this in and try to introduce their own tactics was a special time

I notice that my sons still use the "rock/paper/scissors" game to decide certain major decisions in life such as whose round it is, who is going in the shower first and probably some decisions that it's best I don't know about.

As years went by in Rothesay we became more civilised and prepared and would actually take board games with us. I recollect fondly the joys of Connect 4, Battleships and Guess Who. "Does your person have glasses, red hair and a beard?" ..."Yes"..."Is it Sue?"

Being a football family we obviously also had Subbuteo but there was not really enough room for that which resulted in major on-field casualties. Some players were broken and put back together again more often than Steve Austin (that's The Six Million Dollar Man not the wrestler). These poor chaps ended up looking more Jimmy Johnstone than Peter Crouch but some just never played again after being knelt on from above

Then as the boys grew older we would progress to Cluedo, Monopoly and the horrendous Risk or the more sophisticated Balderdash and Pictionary but in truth I think we were always happiest with coins behind our back or throwing them at a wall

In rainy days in Rothesay the old Panini Stickers Books were also a Godsend (strange that a devout atheist would use that word, maybe there's hope for me yet). These could prove expensive however, when you had three sons each with their own sticker book and 32 teams at a World Cup with about 20 players per team that's a lot of stickers and you had to keep buying them until all books were complete even if you had 14 Terry Butchers by that time, we still needed that Egyptian defender whose name I cannot remember. Hopefully by the time Ben starts doing Panini Stickers Scotland might actually be back at a World Cup

Anyway I am off to brush up on my baccarat skills. I haven't taught Ben that one yet and I need to beat him at something while I still can

as I stood there in the morning rain, I had a feeling I can't explain

So, Young Ben is flying out to Tenerife next month with his mum and dad and this had me thinking how attitudes to travel and holidays have changed over the years.

I was in my twenties before I was on a plane for the first time and even that was a short hop from Newcastle to Amsterdam. It wasn't the first time I had been abroad but up until then I had always gone by Ferry across the Channel. I remember one time in the Sixties I went with my mum and dad and my eldest brother to France and we set off from Ayr in a Mini. My dad had constructed a "home-made" metal roof-rack and within a dozen miles or so it had slid off the back of the car and our luggage was strewn across the A76. My dad was fairly pragmatic about this kind of event, so the roof-rack was dumped in a ditch along with any other non-essential items, the boot lid was folded down and the luggage strapped on and off we set again, heading for Paris. To the best of my knowledge that roof-rack was never retrieved and may be dug up by some future generation and heralded as a great discovery. The thought of travelling to Paris nowadays by road sounds like a nightmare but back then it was a great adventure.

In contrast my own children were flying abroad on holidays from a very early age including a 24 hour flight to Australia when my youngest had only just turned two. I should point out here, they were accompanied by their parents and not just sent off somewhere from time to time.

I had never been to The States until we went there as a family to do the whole "Disney Experience" in The Nineties. For some reason I had always put off going to The States but once I went I was "blown away" and have since been back several times. On one of our trips we took my father with us. It was strange to see a man in his seventies on Space Mountain and Splash Mountain but if he went on a roller coaster it meant there was no way that I could "chicken out". I had to maintain some form of credibility. I recall losing my baseball cap as we hurtled down Splash Mountain and when I went back to the starting point to see if it had been handed in the staff opened a door to a shed filled with hundreds of sodden caps. Obviously I was not the only one to suffer this fate

In more recent times I have been back across The Pond on my own. When I turned 50 I fulfilled a promise to myself and had a holiday in San Francisco. As a child growing up in The Sixties, San Francisco had always carried a mystical quality and I must say it did not disappoint. I think it is my favourite place in the world. Walking across The Golden Gate Bridge with the sun shining, looking over the bay...it just doesn't get any better than that. Add in Cable Cars, Alcatraz, Fisherman's Wharf,Pier 39, Coit Tower,trips to Sausalito, Monterey and Carmel...I could go on all day. It's just a special part of the world

I have since been to New York twice and it is also an amazing city (and much easier to reach). Walking across The Brooklyn Bridge with the wind in your face (yes I really like bridges)...it's not San Fran, but it's a close second. The first time I went, I arrived on Thanksgiving Day and my hotel was just off Times Square. That night it seemed to me like the busiest spot in the world and the atmosphere and lights all around from the advertising signs just took my breath away. I recall taking the open top bus tour and singing "Across 110th Street" as we headed for Harlem. The second time I went was with my mate for his 50th and we were there the night The Giants won The Superbowl. That was a fun night.

I leave you this week with my Top 5 Florida Theme Park Rides

1. Tower Of Terror ...the attention to detail in the hotel and the drop give it top spot
2. Jaws...may seem a bit tame now but at the time it was (j)awesome
3. Back To The Future...where we're going we don't need roads
4. Splash Mountain...lulls you in to a false sense of security with the gentle pace and music, then whoosh...hold on to your hats
5. Kumba at Busch Gardens...now that's what I call a roller coaster

Special mention here to It's A Small World at Magic Kingdom which wins the award for most annoying ride and song. Anyone who has experienced it will now be singing the song for the rest of the day (I know I am even as I type this)