The Day in the life of Tony Cliffe

The blog that's full of discussion, advice, travel and ramblings!
March 8, 2021

International Women’s Day 2021: Time guys did more.

Today is International Women’s Day 2021, a very important day for Women but of course for Men too, to support, get involved, and be aware of the fantastic achievements of Women and continue to support them in the fight for equality. If you’re a woman reading this, I hope by the time you get to end the end that you know you have an ally. If you’re a guy, I hope by the end, if you’re not already that it will get you thinking about what you can do to support.

I’ve for many years, as colleagues and close friends will testify that I’ve been a major vocal champion of women, and I will continue to do so. I’ve been a part of gender equality research. I’ve gone to many IWD events and supported women in STEM. I hope that colleagues and female friends appreciate how much I have always supported you in your challenges and achievements. As a guy, I’ve been somewhat fortunate to have the privilege of growing up around strong women. These women have inspired me and women who continue to drive forward. I grew up being the only guy in the family, surrounded by close girl cousins. We’d spend nearly every weekend together growing up. Besides being tied up and forcibly had make up put onto me most weekends, in between the torture, I learned a lot. They joke that they have spent the best part of 28 years moulding me into the perfect man (the jury is out on that one!). 98% of my close friends are female, and I’ve been surrounded by female collueages and, most importantly, mentors for most of my life.

IWD raises many profiles of some of the unsung or often overlooked contributions to society of women. I can guarantee already before even searching on Twitter that there will be people who say IWD isn’t needed, equality exists (we’re getting there but nowhere close!). There will absolutely be males right now scoffing at IWD. “When is our day!” they demand (November 19th 2021 if you wanted to know!), or I know for a fact because I’ve had it said to me before whenever I speak up for women that “She’s not going to sleep with you mate”. Duh! I know, I’ve been single for 8 years. Pretty sure I would have changed tactics if that was my end goal, which again raises the issue of that. I often hear that the idea of a man supporting a woman, he must have a dark ulterior motive. Depressing! But if you are a guy who thinks we have equality or that you shouldn’t be standing up for women, let me talk you through some things below and let me ask you a few questions.

So for me, I’ve spent many years around women, I have a deep respect for and admiration for, and it genuinely annoys me the crap that women continue to go through. I genuinely have been fortunate to have worked with some amazing female researchers and colleagues over the years and have been inspired by my female mentors. Compassionate, understanding, driven, intelligent, the list goes on. Some of the best people I have been around and worked with and continue to work with are women. I’m not saying a Matriarchal society would be better than a patriarchal one but being surrounded by these amazing women is a good case for it. However, despite how fantastic in my eyes, they are, society is different. I watch the daily struggle of promotions, grants and papers rejected due to being a female. The glass ceiling is ever-present, the sticky floor continues to stick, and the inequality continues to be present. I worked on a research project a few years ago investigating the gender disparity of women in the REF. I knew things where bad, but I was astounded by how present it was. So my first question to you guys, Q., how would you feel if you did your absolute best and were the best candidate in the room, but you got overlooked because you were a guy? Disgruntled maybe?

Not only work-related issues, but in 2021 I still see a daily struggle of society for women, and these have to change. There are many, but let’s talk about some which really get my goat. Firstly, and this is well documented, the pressure women have to look good, the perfect figure, etc. Not helped by the utter chaos of complicated clothing sizes. As a guy, I never understand it, and I’ll never understand why it’s so unnecessarily complicated!? As a guy, we have sized Small, Medium, Large for shirts and jumpers, chest sizes for jackets, collar sizes for formal shirts, and Waist and Leg sizes for trousers. Simple. I know I can walk into any shop, and I know 34 waist and 31 leg pants will fit. I know a 42inch chest jacket will fit, regardless of store. A measurement is a measurement. A 10 can be a 14 in one shop for women, and a 14 can be the same as a 10 in another. What the hell are manufacturers playing at? If that’s not conducive to a low self-body image, I don’t know what is. Not to mention the whole no suitable sized pocket thing that female clothes have. Seriously, what’s with the phobia from designers about actual pockets in jeans? Q. How would you feel, guys, if our dreaded shopping trips became far longer because we have to go into multiple stores and try on numerous clothes because each size is different? Annoyed maybe?

I see a lot lately, too, which isn’t actually discussed much by males or females is the role of women in society as child bearers. I’m currently working with one of my dissertation students looking at women’s gendered role in China. It’s brought some interesting discussion between us. Not only that, I’ve had many conversations with my close female friends about this. There are a few issues I’d like to raise. Firstly, those females who do want kids literally have a clock on it. As a guy, as Bernie Eccelston has shown, you can be ancient and still produce kids way into your twilight years. For women, that’s not the case. I would love to be a father one day, It doesn’t look particularly likely anytime soon, but at least I don’t have an actual clock ticking down in order to get that done. It’s an utterly terrifying thought and something I don’t think many guys, if at all, ever consider that goes on in females minds. That is some pressure! That’s bad enough, but even worse is the notion that females should have kids and raise a child and that somehow, those females who decide either personal or forced situations to not have kids, they’re somehow deemed less worthy, less feminine, somehow not a female because you didn’t have a kid. Seriously, just stop! Not only for men to stop saying these things but even worse, fellow women, stop asking why hasn’t that woman got kids yet. Mind your damn business! There are a hundred and one reasons why a woman might not want kids, and that’s personal to her. Women are not here on this earth just to pop kids out; stop living in the dark ages! P.s. a family can be a family without your own born children. Adoption, pets etc., count in my opinion! Q. How would you feel if you were only validated by raising a child and that you’re not a man until you do? Outraged maybe?

Also, something that has always made me significantly angry is the taxation of necessities for women. As a guy, we absolutely got the good end of the deal when it came to our bodies. I can’t really think of anything particularly an issue other than when going through puberty. You’d get random boners at inappropriate moments and places. Your voice would randomly go up and down in octaves when your voice was breaking. Other than that, that’s it. We’re blessed that we don’t have to go through a period every month. It astounded me the other day watching a video on Facebook about women having to show their boyfriends and husbands what a tampon does, and they literally had no clue. Seriously, come on, lads! What makes it worse is that can last for 5 days, have the worst cramps, and add insult to injury; you get taxed on tampons and sanitary pads. Seriously it’s beyond a joke. Should never be taxed, should never even have to pay for them! That seriously needs to change. Don’t even get me started on paying extortionate amounts of money for simple products like a moisturiser. They’re the same ingredients that are in men’s products, but our products, if you can get past the macho sounding names like Turbo thunder face, are a 10th of the price! Q. Imagine bleeding for five days and then having to pay over the odds? Disgusted maybe?

If these aren’t bad enough, here is the biggest in my eyes of why we are a long way away from equality for women, and it depresses me no end. When my guy mates go for a walk on their own, go travelling on their own, go for a jog at night, never once does their safety ever cross my mind. When my guy mate wears something, never once does it ever cross my mind that something may happen to him because of it. Yet, for my female friends, that’s ever-present.

It’s so depressing to myself as a guy that I will cross the road when I walk behind a woman, especially in the evening or at night, because I know nine times out of ten she’ll be thinking if I’m an attacker. During Covid, it’s been essential to go for exercise and walks, but I know female friends won’t walk down the canal on their own for fear of being attacked. I know those headphones are only for show and that they’re continually looking out for the worst. I’ve had harrowing first-hand accounts of my female friends being intimidated by little immature shitheads out and about. Even worse, only walking and getting catcalled. Guys, no woman is ever, ever going to find that attractive. Stop it. It’s not a compliment, it’s creepy AF, and if you are a guy who thinks it’s banter, you need to be on a register.

As a guy, I can wear what I want; I can go for a walk or a run without the fear of being attacked or, worse, sexually assaulted. Not only that, but if the absolute worst came true and you were a victim of that horrific crime that you get told it was your fault for wearing what you did. Things desperately need to change. Q. How would you feel if you lost the freedom to walk at night because of the constant fear of being attacked? Impossible maybe?

I hope if you’re a female that you know that there are guys out there who admire and support you, who want equality, who want you to have the same rights and access to things and jobs as we do. I want you to know that I will keep championing this. I want you to know that there are guys out there who will cross the road for you and that will check in on their female friends to make sure they’re safe when out and about. I want you to know that there are guys out there who see your issues (although I don’t claim to know everything, this is only a snippet, there are many), that there are guys who will fight for a change in society, who will continue to stand by your side and continue to do their bit to support you.

Edit: I had a comment on this post before that this post made women sound weak and that they needed protecting, that cannot be further from the truth and I’m incredibly disappointed if that’s the take home message you take from this. I’m advocating for an equal society, a safe and inclusive society and a society were your gender is not a barrier. For some women reading this, you may never have experienced any prejudice, you may always feel safe on a walk, you may take questions about children in your stride, you may have no issue with jean size pockets and you may have never been impacted in your careers due to your gender. Amazing, it’s how it should be! However, from first hand experience I know not everyone is as lucky as you, hence why i’m raising these points today.

IWD is rightly for women, but for men, this day is important for you to, to stand up and make a change. We can’t change society if you’re not part of the communication. IWD is not a Males are a disgrace, and only Women should exist day. That’s not what today is about. Sure, some die hard’s have that view. However, most know today is a celebration of women’s achievements and an education of how far we still have to go. I am proud of being a guy. Yes, we face many issues as a guy in society in 2021, but supporting women’s equality doesn’t mean you have to diminish your own gender. Still, it does mean you have to acknowledge these issues exist and that we as guys contribute to it. So what can you do as a guy? You can start by supporting your female friends and colleagues and celebrating and shouting about their achievements. You can start being inclusive and stop the boys only mentality. If you’re in a position to hire make sure you’re hiring on ability and not discounting by gender and finally, if you see another male being sexist or misogynistic call them out on it and educate. We all make and will continue to make mistakes but if you don’t know you’re doing any wrong you’ll never change or learn. You don’t have to be a feminist to want equality for all, it’s just doing the decent thing.

Why do I continue to speak out as a guy for female equality, you may ask? Having been around women for many years and had first-hand access to these issues, my eyes are open more than most other guys. But the reason I write this blog and speak out about it because I don’t like how some of my close friends or female family members can’t go for a walk without fear on certain routes and times of day. I don’t like that exceptional talented individuals are looked over or unsupported in their careers based on their gender. If I’m ever lucky enough to have children and if I ever have a daughter, I don’t want her growing up in a world as described in this blog, where basic period essentials are taxed and expensive. I want her to grow up in a world where anything and any job is possible and where her gender is not a barrier. I want her to be able to jog at night with music on without any care in the world. I could not look my female family, friends or future kids in the eye if I passively sat back and had it easy as a guy. I don’t think I could look a future daughter in the eye if the world hasn’t changed and tell her the world is the way it is because men like me didn’t say anything.

So, on IWD 2021, we need to keep pushing for change. If you’re a woman, I hope you have a fantastic IWD that you continue to celebrate your incredible achievements and you continue to support each other. If you’re a guy, I hope this has been a trigger to think about things. I hope those questions posed throughout have opened some inner dialogue. If you refuse to get involved, why is that? If you’re scared to make a mistake, don’t be. I’ve made many mistakes in the past, stereotypes, misogynic kitchen jokes, making mistakes is part of learning. I continue to make mistakes, but it’s acknowledging them and learning from them. Now, if those questions posed above haven’t made you think or you’ve refused to acknowledge it, let me leave you with this.

Do you want to be on the right side of equality and history or the wrong side? Do you want to look at your mum, sister, friend, future daughter in the eye and tell them you did nothing to help change the world they live in for the better when you could have? Do you want to be part of the solution or the problem? It’s your choice.

Sure doing nothing is the easiest path to take, but it’s not the right one.

Happy IWD 2021

Tony

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February 2, 2021

A last minute escape to the wild North Cumbria Lakes: Part Two – St. Bees Lighthouse Hike

A less than easy Cliff walk followed by a night under the stars. Part one: https://thedayinthelifeoftonycliffe.com/2020/12/31/a-last-minute-escape-to-the-wild-north-cumbria-lakes-part-one-ennerdale-water-hike/

I had one of those nights of sleep wherein a dream it had felt like hours had passed and upon waking to a darkened and distinctly chilly room, it turned out barely an hour had ticked on the clock. So while I felt wide awake despite this, I tossed and turned before I eventually drifted off to sleep again, however, not before marvelling at the stars and the nearly full moon above my bed. In this room, two giant skylights pierced the ceiling above my head, a deep black was speckled with twinkling stars while the bright moon bathed the room in a silvery blanket of light. No need for any lights to go on tonight!

Moon through the skylight from my bed

Somewhere between marvelling at the night sky and tossing and turning, I was awoken by my alarm. Still dark outside, with the sun yet to raise its head this far north at this time of year, I got dressed and headed downstairs. Today was another walking day. Peering through the skylights, a thick frost had formed unsurprisingly with the thermometer dropping down to -6c! Of course, it made perfect logical sense to spend a day walking the windswept coastal cliffs of the Irish sea!

After breakfast and my bag was packed I thawed the car out, forever grateful to have heated windows, seats and steering wheel in my trusty Vauxhall Corsa, affectionately called Celine. I was a little nervous as I waited for the ice to turn into water and trickle down the windscreen. While I was out walking the lake yesterday, my family had tried to find this location I was going to, the car park at St. Bees. They had spent the day in Whitehaven before ending up in what turned out to be, the entirely wrong part of St. Bees. My Dad’s description of the narrow roads and how for him, someone who is an advanced paramedic and is trained in every type of advanced driving there is, scared him. I told myself that I was going the right way and that the location I was going, which my Android Auto google maps screen displayed, would not be as scary as their adventure.

Celine’

With a clear screen and my back and hands suitably warm from the heaters, my Dad made sure the blind bend was clear and with a wave, I was off to St. Bees. Nervous for the drive. Living on the greenbelt land of a major city, the roads are, for the most part, well kept and well lit. Living on the border of the countryside of Lancashire I can be on country backroads in seconds, and I’ve spent many a year on my bike cycling them. However, there are country roads, and then there are Lake District country roads! Where it’s single track, hedgerows tower either side, blind bends and dips, not to mention with it being -4c on the car’s display that the road was completely full of ice.

Some people hate motorway driving, I adore it, I spend hours on them every day travelling to work (pre-lockdown). Narrow twisty, tight, blind and icy country lanes are not for me. I appreciate the ‘driving’ of it, but the constant fear is not my cup of tea!

After 30 minutes of cautious and at times white-knuckled driving (especially when a tractor appeared on a single track, narrow road), I arrived at St. Bee’s carpark. A complete contrast to what my family had travelled to the day before, this, was the proper St. Bee’s. St. Bee’s located just south of Whitehaven on the West coast is a famous location for anyone familiar with the ‘C2C’- Coast to Coast walk. A renowned walk or cycle, from here to the East coast. Tradition is you would dip a boot or a rear tire in the Irish sea and then dip them again into the North Sea at the end of your journey. Me and my cycling buddy Shaun, a few years ago had very much planned to do the C2C in less than 94 hours for charity, but things got in the way, and we never did complete that challenge. Yet, it was oddly satisfying years later to actually get to this famous spot in the UK.

In the summer, I’m sure this place would be heaving with intrepid adventurers starting the C2C with excitement and trepidation. The cheering support of family members mixed in with the tourists and locals enjoying the mobile holiday homes, ice creams and the gravel beach. Today, however, I was one of only two cars in this vast carpark with nothing but a few greedy Wagtails milling about, a Cawing of a Seagull and a bitingly cold Irish sea breeze.

After paying less than £5 for a day ticket at the car park, I quickly got my walking boots, gloves, hat and Buff on, then headed off to the looming and quite imposing ascent of the headland to my right. Short but hard work up the steep and wet and muddy trail, thankful to have my walking poles with me for stability although a fat lot of good they did on the way down to my own demise later on! I climbed higher with every pump of the heart, the sea falling away to my left, the beach now at my back and the ever-present biting wind. Thankful for the steep climb to keep me warm but my legs weren’t as excited about it, especially after yesterday’s hike!

Chilly on the cliffs

The headland eventually flattened out, only for a short respite before climbing again. I don’t mind short sharp vertical ascents, all that pain is worth it as it’s shortlived, hell, yesterday’s scramble was epic. However, when scrambling, you get to use all four parts of your body to heave yourself up a mountain. Here nothing but your legs that kept giving way on the deep mud and slick grass making it harder than it ought to be!

The headland followed rolling hills, which forever seemed to be climbing more than they descended. A narrow muddy path had been forged over the years from walkers which made progression slower than I’d have liked. I didn’t dare risk walking on the grass off the path, while free of mud, I’d already had enough close calls of slipping on the grass to warrant pushing my luck further. That and with such a steep slant towards the sea, I didn’t fancy my chances! Eventually, after some slogging, my destination came into view. A tiny white speck on the horizon, St. Bee’s Lighthouse, glistening in the early morning sun, at least now I had a point to work towards.

St Bees lighthouse on the horizon

To my left the Irish Sea was far below me, sea birds swirled on the winds, the taught horizon so clear. As much as I love the mountains and the Lakes, I’m forever drawn to water. A long history of seafarers in my family dates back to the Spanish Armarda on my Mums side. Nearly every generation has been away to sea. I find comfort in the ocean, although it’s to be respected. There is nothing quite like that blue that the sea has!

In the distance out to sea, the Isle of Man and the Scottish borders were visible. I was surprised how close and clear the Isle of Man was from here. Again, a wonderful island with close family ties to the Island, I’ve enjoyed my time on it. Unfortunately, it will be a while until I return. With their borders closed off and having dealt with COVID a damn sight better than we have, they’re living their best lives with no social restrictions and no cases across the water. Good luck to them! An island standing out in the ocean like an Ocean Liner, no one in or out. I paused for a moment, looking across the sea and I wondered, was someone on the Island looking across to me and thinking “Glad I’m not over there”.

Pushing on towards the Lighthouse, which seemed to be getting further away than closer, the headland abruptly stopped. An inlet of water had eroded a weakness in the rock causing a distinct split. After heading down a makeshift staircase, covered in ice and mud, I arrived at the bottom. Polished rock from the water churned and tumbled down the small valley, before heading out onto the gravel beach and out into the sea. I had no clue on tide-times, and I didn’t fancy getting stuck on a beach with an incoming tide! So I elected to traverse the mini raging river across the polished flat rocks. I gingerly made my way across, watching the water spill over my boots, taking all the mud with it, before crossing to the other side—a deep breath, another short but very sharp climb back up this side of the headland.

At the top, I spotted my first other walkers, it had been so quiet so far. They were heading back in my direction, probably making the summit for sunrise and heading back again. With a cheerful hello, holding my breath to give the appearance of a fit, well-walked man when, in reality, I was dying inside from the climb!

Peaceful St Bees Lighthouse

Eventually, I arrived at the Lighthouse. Nothing spectacular, but then again, I’ve spent most of my travels around the world photographing lighthouses, and it takes something to beat some of the ones I’ve seen! However, what made this place pleasant is while I caught my breath, you could see the Scottish borders and mountains blanketed in thick snow. From here, it looked like a layer of clouds against the sea. Beautiful.

As always, the walk back never fails to feel quicker. By now, the sun was rising in the sky, reflecting off the rugged cliffs, shining while the sea boiled and tossed below. I couldn’t help but snap away and marvel at it all. Coming back this way I noticed other things I hadn’t before, particularly the North Lakes to my right and in the distance, the distinct silhouette of Sellafield Nuclear Power Plant. A place I’ve known for many years, often terrified me as a kid should it ever explode and now I could see it with my own eyes. Pretty cool!

Sellafield

After congratulating myself for not falling over, and chuckling to myself as I watched a man stack it on the way up the steep climb that I was now ascending, my laughter was short-lived. Both heels slide forward and with all my might, I managed to dig my poles in, although felt a twist in my back I didn’t fall. Deep breath, good save. Started to move again and boom, flat on my back as I slid down the hill but the poles arrested the fall. I clock a couple coming towards me, to their credit they look away (probably holding back a laugh but grateful they didn’t) in classic embarrassment, I curse myself, then look at the ground in disapproval and a shake of my head before continuing down the headland to solid ground. I dipped my boots into the ocean to clean them from the massacre of mud on them before making my way back to the car. A delightful morning walk!

Route Taken

Later that evening, we headed out after dark back to the lake. While I love my landscape photography, I’ve perfected the nighttime shot of the stars as an amateur astrophotographer. I’ve loved taking star pictures from my garden at home to the Northern Lights in Iceland. The prospect of some night photography on the lake was something I absolutely wanted to do here.

Ennerdale Water at night

Despite it now being way below freezing we made our way to the water’s edge. No need for torches as the full moon lit everything up. Unfortunately! If there is one main enemy of the night sky photographer, it’s a full moon. Disappointed that despite this being a dark sky spot, the full moon makes any decent star pictures impossible, as with a long exposure the sky becomes almost daylight. Instead, I made the most of it and made some shorter shots, making the most of the running water. Not what I had in mind but still happy with them. How can you be genuinely disappointed when you have nothing but water, the moon and the stars. Peaceful.

Ennerdale and the Moon

The next day an uneventful drive home, bar a patch of dense fog by Preston. I was home in just over 2 hours, feet up and back to daily life at home. The next day new tiers were announced and before long lockdown 3.0 began. I was grateful we managed to get away when we did, for all I know, it could be the last trip for a while.

Until next time!

Tony

Location: For the start of the walk head to the car park at St. Bees called St Bees Beach Front car park. Plenty of parking available for reasonable prices. Take in the climb or the flat gravel beach if the strenuous walk isn’t your thing! Satnav: Firth Dr, Saint Bees CA27 0EY

Walk: On a non-muddy day i’d say this was a light to moderate walk at 5 miles. However, beware of the deceptively steep at times rolling hills, very slippy underfoot so highly recommend walking boots and a pair of walking poles! If tides allow, make use of the inlet half way to explore the secluded beach.

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December 31, 2020

A last minute escape to the wild North Cumbria Lakes: Part One – Ennerdale Water Hike

An escape out to the wild North Lake District National Park Part One blog: The hike of Ennerdale Water

I’m not the first person to state the obvious, but, 2020 has been anything but ordinary. I tried to pen my yearly review of the year but got halfway through and got depressed (I may finish it at a later date). Spending most of the year in some form of lockdown has meant an unprecedented year for me of no travel.

At the tender age of just 3 weeks old, I was on a plane to another country and ever since then, I’ve been on a plane somewhere every year for 27 years. Until this year, my 28th year confined to the boundaries of my own country, what a drag. Since day one, travelling has been in my blood, 2018 was an amazing year of travel with 12 destinations in 12 months, including stops in Europe , Iceland, and Canada. Last year, 2019, was a lite year of travel, spending it in various UK destinations and of course, the wonderful Italian Lakes trip for the Italian GP. A sacrifice of travel while finishing off my PhD with the specific plan that 2020 I’d be back to plenty of travel. I had road trips planned to see friends all over the country, I had flights booked for Croatia, then Iceland and also to Canada to see family again. Instead, I went absolutely nowhere. No planes, no overnight stays, nothing. An overused word this year but it really was unprecedented.

The travel bans forced me into appreciating the beauty and hidden gems in my local area. They allowed me to take day trips to the lakes, which was fun, especially when the summer lockdowns were relaxed enough for Laura to come stay for a few days. We had a few trips to the Lakes and other places. Yet, nothing replaces being away for more than a day. Luckily, for my Dad’s 60th he wanted to get away and with Liverpool and Cumbria seemingly the only counties left in Tier 2, we were fortunate to spend a few nights away in the wild North Lakes.

I was happy to get away, the tier changes mercifully not changing for either of us the night before we left (I couldn’t have handled another last-minute cancellation!). I needed to get away too, this year has been challenging, work has been beyond stressful this year, and the pressure has been constant. This was my first break away from work for more than two days since May. My soul had been battered by stress and strain of work and general crapness of 2020. It needed a recharge. https://thedayinthelifeoftonycliffe.com/2020/07/28/100-days-of-my-lockdown-journey/

Day One:

Driving up the Lake District I’ve always enjoyed, I adore motorway driving, even more so solo driving. Nothing but your music, a terrible singing voice and the views to pass the time. I headed up a few hours before the family so I could start walking straight away, as we couldn’t get the keys to the Air BnB cottage until 4 p.m. The drive up was fine until I passed Lancaster and as the M6 snaked it’s way up the mountains, so did the weather. One minute the snow-capped peaks peered below the low clouds, the next driving hail and snow reduced the visibility to near zero. For the final 1hr 30 of the 2hr 30 drive was in constant gripping of the steering wheel in horrendous conditions.

Thankfully, the weather abated for a time to allow me to navigate the single track, narrow twisty icy roads of North Cumbria. I eventually arrived at Ennerdale Water, the furthest north lake of the Lake District National park. Up this far, is a world away from the tourist and commercialised South Lakes, you won’t find any pleasure boats, trinket shops or tourists up here. Just pure scenery and weather-worn hikers up in these parts. In fact, Ennerdale is the only Lake in the national park that doesn’t have a road around it, giving you a sense of its remoteness.

Stepping out of my car onto the small free gravel car park, the icy wind was enough to waken any tiredness away from the drive. Lacing up my old trusty walking boots and setting my walking poles to length, I regretted not putting my thermal walking trousers on instead opting for my normal ones. A mental note was made to not make that mistake tomorrow! Walking through the path away from the car park, the trees gave way to reveal the snow-capped peaks of Ennerdale Valley. Whitecaps seemingly blending into to browns and greens with the roar of a rushing waterfall, a white raging streak down the side of the mountain as another band of sleet and snow made the peak disappear before reappearing again, adding more intensity to the waterfall.

“I watched as the light changed almost minute by minute, storm clouds enclosed and visibility dropped, swirling, tossing and tumbling before releasing the mountain from its grip.“

The view was breathtaking, as was the real feel of -8c wind that rattled down the side of the valley as I got closer to the Lake. Tomorrow I was to walk the Lake’s entirety, but for now, I planned to make the most of the awful weather to get some pictures of the Lake. With snow showers raging and then stopping as if on a switch, I watched as the light changed almost minute by minute, storm clouds enclosed and visibility dropped, swirling, tossing and tumbling before releasing the mountain from its grip. Each time I felt I had enough of the frozen fingers, the light or the clouds would change and entice me in to stay a little longer to capture its beauty. In the whole few hours I was there, I saw only four people. The harsh weather only added to its remoteness. It felt very much like being in Iceland, let alone England.

Ennerdale Water at sunset

With the light fading quickly this far north and news of the cottage being open, I headed the short drive back to the welcome warm embrace of the Air BnB called The Heckbarley in Ennerdale Bridge. A quaint, quiet, small village surrounded by cows, a river, two pubs looked incredibly inviting, just a shame they weren’t open due to restrictions. The Air BnB was terrific, a large detached house, with plenty of bathrooms and bedrooms, with amazing views from sides of the house of the mountain, especially from the heated conservatory. I got the room with the two skylights, a double and a single. It was a shame that Emma wasn’t with us, Em had planned to come up with us for the few days but with a change in restrictions and not being in our bubble at the last minute she had to cancel. That’s three trips together this year were restrictions had changed last minute for us, Croatia, Iceland and now this! After food and planning the next day’s hike before I knew it, I was out like a light.

Day Two

The watery winter sun was lighting up the crisp azure morning sky as I made my lunch, finished off the rest of the toast and checked and double-checked all my gear. Poles, boots, thermals, buff, spare clothes and the hardest decision, what camera equipment to take. Hiking is challenging as it is, even tougher with heavy camera equipment. The tripod alone is weighty enough, add in the body, the lenses and it all adds up on your back! I decided to leave my heavy long lens in the cottage and leave my DJI Gimbal there too, opting for stills rather than video. If Em was with me, I’d have taken the gimbal but making videos just isn’t the same by yourself, plus every gram saved is a godsend on the mountain.

Before the Scramble up Angelers Crag

Today I set off to walk Ennerdale water, a 7-mile hike that included scrambling, river crossings and plenty of ice! The west side where I started, is the far more challenging side of the Lake, with little to no defined paths to follow. The paths being nothing more than trodden stones to navigate the way through scree and not to mention the giant peak that one must traverse. Either that or get your feet very wet! Whereas the East side of the Lake was a more gentle and flat gravel path, suitable for bikes and prams. I, of course, opted to tackle the more adventurous hiking route, the Westside first. It was -3c when I started my hike, not a breath of wind out, the sun beaming, my breath drifting effortlessly into the sky, the snowcapped peaks glistening in the sun with every crunch of my feet on the icy ground. It felt great to be hiking again, picking out places to put your feet, feeling your body warm-up with every touch, your soul drinking in the views as your body gulps in the cold air. The mountain path got significantly steeper, the path disappearing into an almost verticle rock face. Before tackling that section of anglers crag, I set up my camera gear to take some pictures.

After watching a few groups of avid hikers scramble up the cliff face ahead of me, I packed my gear away, my poles too, they’d be of little upon this steep terrain, took a deep breath and headed up the rock face. Scrambling is something I haven’t done for a while, for those who don’t know what that is, scrambling is a halfway crossover between hiking and rock climbing, where there is no defined path, so you have to use both your feet and hands In order to get up the mountain.

The view half way up
On the other side of the Scramble. Thankful for making it over the top in one piece!

I was very grateful for my time on the PhD with the Outdoor Education Students on their caving expedition field trips. I spent the day learning to scramble, free rock climb and caving. Those few hours in -5c in the snow in the Yorkshire dales, including scrambling up an actual waterfall was excellent training for this steep but short scramble up the Crag. Scrambling would be more straightforward if you didn’t have to wear size 12 hiking boots! I like the puzzle of finding places to wedge your feet and then finding obvious places to put your hand in the rocks to pull yourself up. Once again, thankful to have taken up Yoga and core strength training over lockdown, which proved vital to make the Crag easy work.

Dropping down from the Crag, the lake view opened up, and it was a stunning reward for the scramble’s hard, heavy work. Pushing further south to the end of the Lake was far more demanding than I anticipated. With constant scree, groundwater rushing out of the rocks, ice and slippy moss made slow work of my progress. I was thankful for having my walking pole with me, a few times my foot slipped out from underneath me on black ice on a rock, the poles saving me more than once from at best a broken arm, at worst, a cracked head or back. With no roads here or the fact I hadn’t seen anyone for over an hour, you’d be in a terrible spot for help if something happened in this remote location.

The remoteness had a charm to it, however. Not seeing anyone for an hour, no noise of cars, nothing but the lapping waves of the Lake and the still winter air. The world and all its covid chaos seemed a long way away. After pushing further down the Lake, jumping over rivers and through scrubland, nearly falling a few more times the land eventually got easier.

The scrub and rocks gave way to grass and frozen ground which allowed me to quicken up until disaster.

As ever on the mountain one lapse in concentration is all it takes to instantly change an enjoyable walk into a disaster. In an instant, my horizon tilted, cold, muddy peat water topped over the inside of my boot, I was up to my knee in a frozen peat bog, thankful for once again my walking sticks! The left one had caught a rock, and my brain in autopilot made sense of what was happening before I did, tensing the muscles in my core and the left arm, using all its strength to arrest the slide. My right stick stayed on frozen ground. With two heaves, my foot was released from the bog. I was upright—nothing but a soaking and cold leg and socks for my troubles, thankfully nothing broken. As I picked the path up again and crossed the top of the Lake, still cursing myself for being so careless to not notice I had wandered off track and how despite a now frozen foot, it could have been a lot worse.

At least the views helped!

View at the South end of the Lake

Now on the Lake’s Eastside, a well-placed path used by a logging company made things far easier and quicker. This side of the Lake was far busier, with walkers making the most of the far flatter and more straightforward path. I felt accomplished that I’d done the hard way! Passing through forests that ran through the East side of the Lake, another sharp climb up before veering off the road, back onto a scramble down a peak to pick up the less worn trail at the shore of the Lake. People choose to stick to the road/path that goes inland before joining the shore further up, but I wanted to walk the Lake as it was intended. After just over 3 hours later, I was back at the car, alive, thankful and while tired, full of life of what had been an excellent hike indeed!

Places to stay:

Few Air BnBs in Ennerdale to use, however, you’re 30 minutes drive from Kendal to the East or 30 minutes away from Whitehaven and Cockermouth in the West.

Location:

Head to Bleach Green Car park (free 24 hour car park) in Ennerdale, roughly 2 hours 30 minutes from Liverpool. Careful of the untreated narrow and steep roads on the approach to Ennerdale and the Lake, take it easy!

Route:

7 mile walk start at the car park and go over the bridge and turn right at the weir. Follow the unmarked path south along the lake, you can’t miss Anglers crag (it’s huge!). If you want a shorter and easier route, turn left at the bridge and follow the marked gravel path around the Eastside of the lake.

Places to visit:

Ennerdale water of course! But also visit the Stone circles just north of Ennerdale.

END OF PART ONE

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July 28, 2020

100+ Days of my Lockdown Journey

100+ Days of Lockdown

We in the UK have been in Lockdown for well over 100 days now. I look back at the emotional rollercoaster of my personal journey through Lockdown, from riding the busiest time in work to struggling with work-life balance to where I am right now. I’m sure we’ve all had our own unique journeys through this historical period, here are my musings of mine.

A prelude to lockdown

“Yep! Go ahead book them, we need to get this sorted ASAP” I muse to Hannah, our Admin for the department. It had been an incredibly pressured and busy week, somehow the task of finding flights and booking them had fallen onto my young academic shoulders. It had been hurried and less than ideal preparation for an international field trip for many reasons outside of our control. Still, we had managed to get things in place. We were excited, if not a little stressed about having our first international field course to the Netherlands with our MSc Students. When I gave the go-ahead to spend a substantial amount of money on flights, Covid-19 wasn’t even named. Back then in early February, it was a new virus in China. Oh, another one of those viruses I thought to myself.

We’d been here before, SARS, Swine Flu, Bird Flu, Ebola, we know the drill.

Somewhere else gets a virus, everyone panics about imminent doom, it barely reaches our shores and eventually they get on top of it, and it all goes away. Nievity. Nievity on a vast global scale. I guess that outdated view of the world was our downfall, we, at least in the UK have had so many false dawns of pandemics that in our collective minds it became something that really did not concern us.

I distinctly remember being in A-Level Biology during the Bird Flu crisis, I remember our teacher talking about social distancing, football matches being cancelled and restaurants closing. It was scary as she mentioned if it got out of hand, that’s precisely what would happen to us. We talked about it at length one lesson about disaster management, nothing more back then in my mind as a perfect hypothetical scenario. Of course, it never came to much in the UK and we moved on.

As the weeks went by I noticed news coverage dedicated to this new virus was growing, Wuhan was in Lockdown, conspiracy theories of biological weapons and labs were rife, governments on the sly blaming other governments. The wet food market was closed, racist undertones in tweets emerged along the lines of “serves them right for eating bats”. But again, as the death count rose in China, it was still the same story as the others, it’s over there not here. As our field trip got closer, the cases started to rapidly spread and eventually the sit up and take notice, was the Lockdown in Lombardy, Italy. I had travelled to that stunning location only a few months before for the Italian Grand Prix, spending many days on Lake Como marvelling at the view and sipping intense, authentic Italian Espresso as immaculate Ferrari’s darted in and out of traffic and everyone was dressed to impress.

The images of such a location were transformed into a ghost town, a town that from my memory was so full of life was nothing more than an empty shell, the images of flash cars and people replaced with the horror images of ventilators and people dying alone in corridors. This was serious.

Part of my original blasé attitude was down to my Father, a senior paramedic of close to 40 years, trained in triage and to deal with the worst possible cases when he was a bronze commander. “Don’t worry, it’s blown out of proportion, it’s just awful flu” was what he was told at the start of the pandemic. Then they had another meeting as soon as Italy went into full Lockdown. My Father is someone who doesn’t show his emotions much, but this was now gravely serious, sitting down in the living room after the latest meeting things had rapidly changed. “This is going to be a disaster” are the words I most remember. The virus was no longer just flu, it was deadly. The NHS was woefully underprepared due to poor management and procurement of PPE. We still had some stores of PPE from the Ebola outbreak, so we were good for now, but that wouldn’t last. Hearing the worst from someone in the know is terrifying, especially as I watch the UK walk blindly into this pandemic. This was no longer a distant virus on someone else’s shores, it was rolling in, rapidly and taking as many as it could with it.

“Okay, we desperately need a Plan B guys” I let our team know that while we can still travel in the UK, the situation in Italy was dire, the information coming from my Dad was even worse, talk of lockdowns being official, death tolls skyrocketing. Under 48 hours to departure time a blanket email comes from the Vice-Chancellor,

all travel on University business is cancelled with immediate effect.

We were one of the first universities in the UK to make such a landmark call. I was due to fly to Canada in a few months to lead a workshop and meet up with my family in Canada, people I desperately miss was now taken away from me. A field trip I had planned so much for and to be cancelled with less than 48 hours notice. As the UK had not banned travel yet, we lost a lot of money, something I felt a lot of responsibility for, but who would have known that this would happen?

Within 48 hours the team had developed from scratch a fantastic virtual online trip to replace what would have happened, an accurate measure of the dedication we as academics go through to make sure our students get the best experience. If you were to look at it, you’d be mistaken for thinking it had taken months to make. It was beyond amazing and a true testament to the skill of those I feel so very honoured to call my colleagues.

As the weeks progressed, it became clear that Lockdown was inevitable, that university would close. We would be shifting to online learning. Fortunately, as a department, we were in the best place possible. Part of my PhD was on online learning, and it was a significant player in me getting this position for the new MSc FRAME course, which was mostly delivered entirely online since October. As a department, we had months of experience of delivering lectures and pastoral care remotely through Microsoft Teams. At the time, an odd things to do, outsiders. Little did we know how vital those few months were as a department learning and adapting to online learning.

It shouldn’t have come as a shock to us when the notification of needing to be out by a specific time and no one knew when we would go back, but it did. A University without students in it, unprecedented. I was nervous, my job is temporary, contract due for renewal in the summer I surely felt this would be the last time I would be in my office. I was scared about job security, afraid about my family working in the NHS on the frontlines, scared myself for catching it and ending up as a statistic.

I had spent over 18 hours working on a document, along with my closest FRAME colleagues documenting everything we’ve learned about online delivery, I made Youtube tutorials, a comprehensive report. A day later, our department had everything they had to know, I ran MS Teams tutorials with others in the department. Within 24 hours of notification of Lockdown, we were the only department to complete a full day of teaching online, not one single lesson was cancelled. Something that apparently by some, wasn’t a possible feat until Easter. Again, the absolute testimony to the professionalism, adaptability and student-focused mindset that all in Team GID have.

All of my office in one box.

We had a final meeting, we said our goodbyes to one another, the weight of my box of all of my office things in my arms. I didn’t know if and when I’ll be back, or if I’ll see these people in person again. I loaded my things up in the car on a grey, dull day and drove home.

Lockdown

That’s it, Lockdown officially enforced in the UK. Never in my generation or many generations before me had this ever occurred before. That hypothetical scenario we played out at A-Level was now a reality. Enforced staying at home, only essential shops open, air travel stopped, football cancelled. A new world had dawned.

At first, I was too preoccupied with getting into a rhythm of working from home. Something I absolutely detested the thought of. Home and Work-life are two separate things, and I always believed the two should rarely mix. I am an over-thinker, always thinking of things to improve and therefore work is never too far from my mind. However, on a less than ideal day in the office, I can physically leave that space, jump in my car for my drive home music blasting, and then I’m home, 37 miles away from the office, I can switch off.

Now, my commute was two steps from my bed to my desk. No escape. This very laptop which was once a symbol of expression and leisure where I would write my novels and my blogs and edit my pictures was now a symbol of work and stress.

In the first few weeks of Lockdown, it was scary but peaceful. Shops were quiet although wearing gloves and a mask was a new thing. Roads were blissfully traffic-free on my bike rides, the weather was glorious as I would spend my days off on 5-mile hikes to the local nature reserve making the most of my one pass a day to leave the house. You can read my musing about the start of lockdown here: Covid-19: We are living in the pages of future history books

Then it all went south, rapidly. My mental health and physical health took a nosedive, really struggling to cope with working from home, all while the pressure increased as the workload which started off small exploded into full overdrive.

Working from home had gone from a leisurely pace to a full-on mad dash within a few days.

Lockdown came at the worst possible time for me, as my first year in the role, becoming assessment officer it is your job to ensure all the marks are correct for the end of module boards so students can get their degrees. A job that takes numerous people weeks of looking over computer screens and print outs to get right. Now, it was to be done remotely, with 500 checks and procedures to do, all the while delivering online learning to your students, answering 50 emails a day, being asked to do impossible things in unimaginable time scales, we know you’re busy but get this done asap became the new norm, and having meeting after meeting. On the worst day of Lockdown, I worked 21 hours. If I didn’t, things that needed to get done would not have happened. For close to two months, I worked 6 days a week (I get paid in my contract for 3!).

I don’t think any of us had ever worked as hard as this before. By the time it came to MAB I was borking in the shower every morning from stress, I felt exhausted, Ill, I still feel dodgy to this day, stress does some bad things to the body which takes a while to recover from. Not to mention the added stress of my mum being rushed into hospital, desperately ill and being told to expect the worst (thankfully after nearly a week in hospital she survived and is well on the mend!). I found new levels of stress that week!

After the worst of days i took myself off to the beach and had a complete mindset change

Then just like that, the academic year was over. My first academic year had gone in the blink of an eye and what a crazy year it had been. All of a sudden, the email chatter died down, the MABs were done, we as a Team had worked to new levels. I know I am not the only one who worked stupid hours to ensure our students got the best experiences and that we delivered on our requirements. I had grown so much closer to my colleagues in those few months than I had in any of the months before. So much support and guidance from them. I looked forward to that 30 mins to an hour lunch club Teams call between us all.

I cannot stress enough how much I cherished the support and those moments as a team, some light relief in a soup of chaos.

I could not be more proud of the effort, dedication and support the whole of GID has put into lectures from Lockdown. We have worked as a fantastic and united team, every single one of us going above and beyond. People won’t see that, SMT won’t see it, Students don’t see it, but we know what we’ve done. During Lockdown, I managed to complete my first year, complete the MABs successfully, been apart of the FRAME team to get CiWEM Accreditation for many years to come, became Chair of the Ethics Committee and was nominated by my students for the Most Inspiring Lecturer of the year award. I am truly blessed. These experiences have made me more robust, and I know with this team behind me next year will be a breeze!

More time for walks and hikes

“Sometimes to reset your brain and recharge your soul, you need to climb up a mountain and be in nature”

Negatives and Benefits of lockdown life

In Lockdown I’ve missed birthdays of friends, I had my own quiet lockdown birthday turning 28. I’m used to spending my birthdays abroad but instead at home, although my family did everything to make it as unique as they could. I missed the birth of my best friends first child, I missed graduations and dear friends getting new jobs, all those moments missed. As stressful as it has been at times, there have been some real benefits to lockdown life, not least, the fantastic weather we’ve had! For the first time, I have a Tan! Even on the busiest and stressful of days, I made sure to spend some moments outside in the garden, admiring the blue sky, marvelling at the birds. Before life got crazy and since the term has ended, I’ve been on walks in nature, drinking it into my soul. From climbing mountains on my first day of leave to twitching owls in the evening to riding my bike and getting back into that again to recently taking up Yoga to get in shape and to shift the stress and crisp fuelled lockdown body.

Iron Men
Garden Squirrel
Evening Barn Owl

Who knows when we’ll be back in the office? It changes weekly, August, September, January, Never? I’ve gotten into a good routine now of working set hours again, I no longer hate working from home (perhaps that’s Stockholm syndrome) in fact, I quite enjoy it. No longer the need for 5.30 a.m alarm calls and hour-long drive commutes. I’m saving a fortune on petrol which is helping me save for a deposit on a house. Walking downstairs, my Nespresso machine is right there, perfect coffee on tap, every time. When the workday is done, I don’t have to wait an hour to have food or to do something after the drive. I can close the laptop and head out on the bike or drive the 15 minutes to the beach to destress.

I’ve gotten into a pattern, a routine, a working life balance now that I appreciate, that works for me but by god has it taken a long time to get to this place.

We’ve all had our challenges in Lockdown, some at the start, some in the middle, some at the end. What I’ve come to appreciate is that there is a lot of support from others during this time. Those who haven’t bothered with you, you now know who you can rely on when the going gets tough. There is a collective we’re all in this together, we all share in each others pain and suffering as well as the little highs and wins along the way. It’s also okay to be productive one day and procrastinate the next. We’re not working from home, we’re living at work during a global pandemic.

Perhaps at the start of Lockdown, I was too harsh on myself, too much of that overachiever mentality of having to do everything perfectly and to standard. It’s a global pandemic, perhaps doing just enough is the new perfect?

While Lockdown slowly lifts, it will still be on for a while. I won’t venture to pubs or restaurants anytime soon. There will be a second wave, especially in winter, as the drum beats of that get louder just like they did before Lockdown. I won’t be ignoring those signs this time! I still hope that Emma and I can get to Iceland after our numerous cancelled trips this year, I hope we can in November. As a year without travel for me is unprecedented, but I guess it has helped my carbon footprint.

Hope for a brighter future

I expect to be in Lockdown again and working from home to be the new normal. I’ve gone to the edge and back, and now I know the limits. I’m confident that I can survive this new normal, I hope you can too. I had two weeks off to recharge, and I’ve been back at it for a few weeks now, preparing for the new term and year ahead, both in-person and virtually.

To all my readers, I wish you safety and the best of health, and hopefully, soon my blogs will be filled with travel and adventures again. Until then, stay safe.

Tony

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March 27, 2020

Covid-19: We are living in the pages of future history books

The gentle and ever-present hum of the tyres beneath me, steadfast and unwavering unlike my legs and laboured breathing. Breathe. Hold for two seconds. Release. My eyes focusing on the only two meters of tarmac in front of me, I don’t dare look up. Look up, and the game is up, the voice inside your head would switch from encouragement to defeat. One step at a time and this will all be over eventually. Finally, the top of the hill appears, the cadence increases, the burn in the legs decrease as your velocity picks up. The hum grows louder as does the click of the sprockets as you freewheel downhill. The wind rushes across your face, it’s coolness tickling the newly formed sweat on your brow. You feel temporarily weightless, your body absorbs the jolts and the knocks as you rattle over the uneven road surface. You’re flying.

By the time you pull the brakes and you come to a stop at the end of a hill, it makes all that effort of the climb worth it. I smile to myself, the sun beating down on a big stupid grin that now crosses my face…before it returns to normal. That didn’t last long at all. I click back into the pedals, one big push and away I go again, head down, the hum, the steady breathing. Cycling goes on, as does life.

For that split second hurtling down the hill today, I forgot what was going on in the world. For those few brief minutes of weightlessness, the rush of air, the quietness of the chatter inside my head. Normal. By the time I got to the bottom of the hill that brief paradise of solitude and quiet was replaced by the realisation of the chaos in the world today. Normal…what is normal anymore? The set up is the same, the sun is shining, the flowers are blossoming, the sky is blue as it always is, the fields are lush and swaying in the gentle breeze. Normal.

Except it isn’t. The finer details are no longer present.

The blue azure spring sky is crystal clear, not a cloud nor a vapour trail insight. No crisscrossing of people travelling to new destinations on holidays, no business people at 30,000 feet planning their strategy meetings, no families waiting at the airport to greet loved ones. An empty sky.

A shrill call of a Buzzard I can hear above the wind as I slowed down to a stop next to a large open field. I watch it circle, it’s wings spread, another call, effortlessly floating in the sky, it swoops down behind a tree, and I lose sight of it. I guess life goes on for everything else. It hits me how quiet it is, no distant humdrum of traffic, no beeping floating across the air, the air is cleaner, it smells different today.

Other than the long-empty winding road that sweeps before me, rising and falling, snaking in-between the large oak trees and green fields that are waking up from their winter sleep. There is no sign of human life anywhere. By the time I rose up another hill and into the usual busy market town, sure the cars are parked outside houses, the bunting flutters quietly in the breeze between shops in the cobbled high street, signs of life but no people to be seen.

It was Erie today. Cycling in a lockdown while fantastic due to no cars, was oddly satisfying and terrifying at the same time. We live in unprecedented times. Scary unprecedented times. I have family working on the front lines of this horrific global pandemic, each time they leave the door I fear they may get it, with underlying health issues it’s not all rosy if they do.

Queuing outside supermarkets and people are masked up, standing two meters apart, the new normal. I find myself holding my breath like I used to do as a kid when I walked past someone. I’m 27 and I’ve reverted back to a child who holds their breath to not catch a disease. Marking on the floor denote where you can stand, lines separate people in the aisle, every person you see you’re wary of. Do they have it? You look down at your hands which are starting to crack from all the washing and hand gels you’re subjecting them to. A cracking of skin trying to hold It together like you are inside. There is little optimism in the air. I see the eyes of the elderly who wonder if every step out the house is their last. A deadly enemy no one can see. I’m frightened by it, deeply so. For a number of reasons.

I’m frightened of what I’ve witnessed, people hoarding and looking out for themselves. People stealing milk from doorsteps and fighting over toilet paper in shops. A civilised society is so evidently fragile and how quick we are like animals to revert to our basic instinct to secure our own survival first.

Never in my lifetime have I ever had such freedom taken away from me. To be told to only leave your house for essential shopping or one form of exercise is something my brain is still trying to process. Never did I ever think that such a fundamental right and something we very much take for granted would be taken away. At least with cycling that one exercise can get me out for a few hours a day.

I’m frightened for my job, one that is unlikely to be renewed in this new financial crisis world. With my temp contract up in August and with it already dubious due to budgetary constraints pre Covid-19, I’m less optimistic than ever it will continue. Work itself, while I mostly teach online anyway to my Masters’ students, the shift to online teaching for all classes was not much a change of way of life for me, job wise. I guess I’m one of the very few academics who were prepared having taught this way since October. While some have been less than appreciative of my offer for help and expertise, others have gladly been very welcoming. When the pressure is on true characters emerge.

However, I am frightened of what this pandemic means for Academia. For me, Academia cannot solely be conducted behind a computer screen. I have built great relationships with my Masters students online having never really met them all in person (and probably at this rate never will) but nothing replaces Academia in a physical setting. Academia is not about the delivery of learning via lectures be that onsite or in the virtual realm. The heart of Academia is the quiet words of encouragement you can give a struggling student at the end of a lecture or the Adhoc advice you give about stats or careers advice in your office. It’s the passing conversations with colleagues in the corridor or over a hot cup of coffee in the breakroom where you can release your stresses of a hectic and pressured environment. It’s the gossip that goes on behind closed doors or the plans and projects you discuss with often misplaced optimism in this current Higher Ed system.

Academia and University without staff or students in it is not Academia. Trying to work from home when you’re used to a busy and social office life is hard. I’ve been impressed by some aspects of how Academia has handled this crisis, and I’ve also been profoundly appalled and apoplectic about it at other times. The concept of Academia running on “Good Will” is safe to say mine has been severely tested as of late, where at times I wonder why I’m in this job.

As a planner, this uncertainty kills me every day.

Holidays have been cancelled that I’ve saved up for months, conferences which would have boosted my academic job potential gone to the wayside. Family overseas I so desperately couldn’t wait to be reunited with on hold. It sucks but small sacrifices we all have to make to ensure we get through this in one piece.

I’ve volunteered to head to the front line to do my bit if I’m required. Hospital logistics. To transport medical supplies between hospitals, GPs and Pharmacies and to deliver medicine to the vulnerable. I’m nowhere near as on the front lines as my Sister working in a Pharmacy or my Dad, a senior Paramedic but I want to do my bit. I’m a Doctor but not that type of Doctor, but it’s good to give back while you can.

It’s not lost on me that we are whether we like it or not, living through one of the world’s key moments in history. We are writing the pages of the history books as we speak. An unprecedented global crisis. Make no mistake that the world has fundamentally changed. It can never go back to the way it was. Our lives have irreversibly changed. Whether for good or for bad, we won’t know until the dust settles and the new world order rights itself. For the better, it might see more people work from home, which reduces pollution, cars on the road, more flexible learning and therefore better work-life balance, child care etc. For the worse, global monopolies, a deepening polarisation of the have and the have nots, a faction of looking out for yourself, a worldwide pandemic of selfishness.

What we knew as normal is no more.

When this curse of Covid-19 is gone (which won’t be for another year at a minimum), when we can finally leave our homes whenever we want, when the markers on the floor have long been pulled up, when we can hug our friends without fear of passing on invisible microbes, when we get out of this. When just like at the start of this pieces, the slog up the mountain is complete. We can embrace a new world, take stock and enjoy that feeling of joy of racing down a hillside. Smile more, love more, tell people you care about that you do care. Look up more often at that blue sky, take notice of the birds and the way the wind tussles the green grass. Look up from your phone and live in the now. You never know what you have until it’s gone.

We will reach the other side of this, but like that ride today, things will be familiar, but the little details will be different. A new world is upon us.

I’d like to wish all of my readers good health. Stay indoors where you can stay safe. To our NHS and careworkers, you have my utmost respect and gratitude for what you do. To my loved ones, know that I care deeply about you, my friends I cherish you.

May we all stay safe, may we all reach the top of this climb together, keep looking that 2 meters ahead of you, keep pushing, don’t give up, one day soon we will feel the rush of that air over our faces again, the rush of freedom in a brave new world.

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December 31, 2019

2010-2019 the decade of change and achievement

2019…The end of a terrific year but also the end of what has been quite the decade! Looking back on the past decade it’s actually been quite the whirlwind. If my 2010 self was to read what I was to do and become in the next nine years, I don’t quite think he’d believe it. I’ve been on a journey of transformation, I’m a million miles away from that jaded and lost boy in 2010. 2010 me was I feel looking back, an outsider who never really fitted in. Present but vacant, slightly out of sync with everyone else. Someone who knew what they wanted to be but was not in a place where they could be that. I started the decade, lost.

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Some Happier 2010 times!

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Some Happier 2010 times!

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Some Happier 2010 times!

Its been well documented those who have followed me on this journey from day one about my disdain for sixth form and what went on in a particular classroom. This blog, while a million miles away from those early days of blog writing as a release and as a weapon, has its roots from the immaturity of sixth form. My passion for writing blogs was born out of that shitshow. There were many gems from Maricourt but there was a toxic group that I could not wait to leave behind.

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Life was better at Uni!

My life got significantly better when at the start of the decade I went to University. I had felt like I was hemmed in, in school. Learn hard, put the effort in, get the grades, get out. That’s what school was to me. One of my standout moments of this decade was and will always be that first-year residential field trip to Slapton in Feb of 2011. This decade I’ve had a few vital and pivotal moments where if I had chosen the other side of the coin, the other decision, life would be vastly different today. The first of that, was that February night on a cold, windswept Slapton beach. I still remember it vividly, the fresh sea breeze that tickled your face, the gentle and rhythmic pulse of the distant lighthouse casting a beam of light across the sand. Looking up and taking in a deep breath of air, exhaling and watching it disappear into the most unbelievably clear sky I had ever seen. It felt like the entire universe was out that night, the bluest of blue stars twinkled above like diamonds.

Before that night, I was ready to quit University. I had made up my mind, it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t challenged enough, I was constantly ill, I hated the commute. I was all but done. This first-year field trip was in my mind, a swansong. It just turned out to my surprise to be the start of an epic journey in academia. That night as we pulled up some driftwood and sat on large boulders, laughing and sharing stories into the night. I suddenly realised that with this group of people, we were all broken in some way and for the first time in my life, that wasn’t an issue. For the first time in such a long time, I had people around me who actually didn’t care about who you are or where in high school. They all had flaws as did I, and they didn’t care. They were human. I formed friendships that night that have lasted the sands of time. That field trip changed everything. I fell back in love with Geography because of that field trip, I realised that I could be who I wanted to be here, with these people.

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Sitting here now having completed a BSc, an MSc and recently a PhD, it seems crazy to me that I was so close to giving up all of that if it wasn’t for that goddamn beach and the chats that night. Not to forget Susan (you had to be there).

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Undergraduate years of 2010-2013 was a period of some crazy emotions. Once I committed to academic life, I found a place I could call home. I found something I was good at and oh boy it was one hell of a good time! Every day in Uni was a laugh with my Uni pals, Anthony, Alex, Mary, Hannah, Chloe, Stacey. The latter, well we all know how that particular episode of the decade turned out. I had fallen in love.  I let my walls down 100% again for someone for the first time in a few years and for those two years it was awe-inspiring, it was beautiful and it was terrifying all at the same time. As time has passed and the wounds have healed, I can look back on those times with a real warm glow. Now longer jaded by heartache and bitterness.  I owe her a lot for building the foundations of the person I am today. There are a lot of aspects of me today that define me that were unlocked by her. For one small example, cooking. I couldn’t cook beans on toast before I met her and would never venture outside of any dish that wasn’t made in the British isles! Yet with an Italian passion for food, that was unlocked in me. Food and cooking is a huge part of who I am now. I love to cook and I’m always cooking food for family and friends and dishes from all over the world!

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Then in 2013, as I was feeling on top of the world…it all came crashing down. The rug was whipped from under my feet. The breakup hit me out of the blue and knocked me for six for years! 2013-14 was brutal. I was depressed, everything was a struggle. Looking back now, I see why I struggled so much with it. As a very guarded person, I felt like I was betrayed when I let all of my walls down, the real emotional me was vulnerable and to then have that heart stood on in the fashion that she did was tough. Did it help that she got with the guy she was ‘just friends with at the party’ that I didn’t go to, two weeks after she broke it up out of the blue? No. No, it didn’t. Did it also help my recovery that we shared every class together and friendship group for that final year? No, that didn’t help either.

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Happier times in 2013

Truth be told though I was seething, I was angry, I was hurt. But actually, I was mad at myself. I am an achiever. It’s what I do, I set a goal and I will achieve it. I have a long list of honours, accolades and achievements. Yet, one had always evaded me. I would trade in all of my awards to just be loved by someone, to grow old with them and to have my own family. When she ended it, to me, it was a colossal failure on my part. It’s something that I did or didn’t do, it was my fault in some way is how I perceived it. I had a taste of that ultimate goal for it to no longer exist. It was tough.

2013 was by far the most challenging year of the decade for me. A week after I was hit by that out of the blue break up, I was informed that my eyes where 0.5 outside of the limit for becoming an Air Traffic Controller. A dream job that I had worked towards ever since I was little. My choices in school and even degree level were all geared up towards becoming an Air Traffic Controller. It’s all I ever wanted to do. In the space of 7 days, I had lost two dreams, out of the blue. I was once again, lost.

From 2010 to the start of 2013, I had discovered for the most part who I was as a person. I grew very self-assured of myself. 2013 knocked me right back to 2010. I didn’t know me anymore. I had spent years having such confidence in myself to looking in the mirror and not even recognising who I was. Every day was an effort. Academia became a lifeline again, amongst all of this dissertations had begun. The only way out of this hole I thought was to put everything into that dissertation. One last hurrah. Do well in this, get a good degree, build myself back up again, reinvent me again. I used all those emotions of anger and hurt and turned them into productivity. Which worked. I aced that dissertation and in the process fell in love with research. I was selected to go and present it at the biggest undergraduate conference in Plymouth. Backed by my supervisor and my friends, I didn’t think I was worthy but they believed. They pushed me to do it. From the back of that, I was selected to present that research in Parliament and came in the top 20 UK undergraduate researchers of the year. Not bad work for when I was at my lowest. That was the slow road to recovery.

Final year was a slog, but I finished with a 2:1. The goal was done. I had never felt prouder than that first graduation day, looking back at the certificate. It didn’t to me denote a degree, whenever I think back to my BSc days, it indicates all those made changes in my life, the soaring highs and greatest of lows. To me, it reminds me that I’m glad that I have that no matter how shit I feel, I have that inner stubbornness that just will never, ever, give up. No matter how much the odds are stacked against me. You pick yourself up, you keep working hard, you never give up.

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2014 and 15 were all about my Masters Things they never tell you about when starting a Masters Degree. Because I was still recovering from 2013 I don’t think at the time I really appreciated those years for what they were. A period of reflection, rebuilding, rebranding, regrowing. By the time our first residential to the desert in October came around, I saw the MSc as a new start. That summer I had clarity, I had dealt with a lot of stuff, I for the first time actually accepted me for me. I now knew what I wanted out of life and one of those things was to collect degrees. I loved research, I wanted to become a researcher. I wanted to help people in a way that I knew I could, via research. The MSc was academically very challenging but I adored that challenge. Being pushed every day intellectually was fun! It was such a great topic to study and my fellow classmates where legends. I feel really bad that we all never really stayed in touch but they were so perfect for that part of my life. I am grateful for every single one of them. That desert field trip without a doubt is the funniest field trip I have ever been on. God, I loved that course!2014…a year of rebuilding and success!

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2015 came another of those giant what-if moments, those crossroad decisions, a flip of a coin, a fork in the road of life. I’d finished my Masters, I’m now healed, I’m back to myself, I have the whole world ahead of me. Then the two jobs come at once. 29k 3 year contract in Nottingham with a global consultancy firm, or a 16k part-time tempory one year job as a research assistant. I was utterly torn between the logically me and the emotional me. Head and my Dad, wherein the consultancy job. No question. Financial security, job security, job progression, independence, moving out, new city. Yet, my heart wasn’t in it. I had fallen in love from Undergrad with research, but it was a lot of work, it didn’t pay well and there was no guarantee it would last longer than a year. I was conflicted, my parents were conflicted. Take the Nottingham job and I would be leaving home, I’d be leaving Liverpool, my life and I’d be on a career path in environmental consultancy.

On the other hand, take the RA job, stay at home but do something I was madly passionate about and really enjoyed but for pretty crap pay.

Then that talk at the river happened. Both of us, me and Chloe at a crossroads in life, both with massive decisions to make. Chloe, I have no doubt is my guardian angel. At the beach in Slapton, there during the hard times, there again at the river now a big life decision was to be made. My confidant, my guiding light, my soundboard. I summed Chloe up and the rest of my close friends up so well in this blog here:My dedication to the inner circle! After hours for the first time in a while, I had clarity over that decision. My mind was made up all because of her, I made the decision. I declined the consultancy job and for the first time ever the logical me went with my heart. I took the RA job. I turned onto the path of academia which has led me to where I am today.

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2015-2016 where the RA years (My 2016, a cracking year! ) (My Facebook status’ of the year and what a story it tells of 2015.) An incredibly rewarding, stressful, intense training I could ever receive being an RA in the department. I thought my development rate was staggering from BSc to MSc, but as an RA, I developed more in those years there than I had all the other years combined. I adored that job, as much as it was mental! It cemented to me that this is what I wanted to do as a career now. The research was home, I had found not where I expected to be but clearly where I was meant to be. I worked on a vast amount of projects, learnt so much and got to work with the most incredibly supportive colleagues a young RA could ever ask for! I was pushed to my limits and beyond in that job. It only became apparent when I started my PhD how much training I had unknowingly been through as the departments RA. I was a seasoned researcher soldier by the time the PhD wars came. I felt like a general when I walked into PhD life. To this day, those intense years where the best in terms of training for research and my career and it put me in a great position.

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Here we go again, three-year cycles in life, all going well and here comes the downer. Funding cuts across the University. RAs well we’re disposable. First to be cut was me. Here I am again, back at this familiar road. Find something I’m good at and I like and here comes something to take it away. Oddly, I was different this time. The disappointment didn’t come as a surprise, things were going too well so I was expecting this to occur. But more than that, after so many disappointments and setbacks in my life I was just like meh, okay, it’s another one, I’ll deal with it like I always do. No worries! I was gutted to be leaving the department but I also felt that maybe this was a blessing in disguise. A new chance to see this as rather than a setback, a new adventure, a new challenge. Since 2013 I’ve had the mindset of turning negatives into positives, even if that is only a small positive. I had learnt all that I could there, I couldn’t progress without a PhD. So PhD it is.

I’ve always been a firm believer that if you have the right attitude in life, if you work hard, then you build a door. If you do that, then life will give you opportunities and if you’ve worked hard and in the right way, then the opportunity will come and knock at that door that you’ve built. The day after I was told I was going to be unemployed, the PhD scholarship at LJMU was posted. My boss saw it, sent it to me. I quote “Jesus Tony, this PhD looks like it’s been written for you! Drones in fieldwork! You should apply”. There was an opportunity, knocking very loudly! I was so very nearly not going to apply until my work mum Sara knocked some sense into me (one of the very many unsung heroes of this decade for me! Thank you Sara!). I applied, did the interview, got the scholarship and the rest is history as they say!

2016-2019 and that’s where we end this decade. The PhD years. These past three years would never have happened without that decision way back in 2010 or that one in 2015. It’s a weird life when you think about it. If I had my way, I like to think I would have been an air traffic controller now, with a wife and maybe a kid. But life has a funny way of getting you where you need to be, not where you want to be. Here I am, in 2019, as a Doctor. I never thought or even entertained the thought that one day I would be Dr Cliffe, I’d be an editor of a Journal and a Senior Lecturer at 27 years old. Yet, for all of that journey, I am immensely proud that I am here. That I never gave up and that I feel I am where I’m meant to be right now. The past three years have undoubtedly been the best of the decade. I have so much love for my time on the PhD and the people who were in it My final day and my goodbye. I have grown again as a person to someone who I feel is the best and most rounded version of me there has ever been. The past three years have been the most intellectually challenging journey. It’s also been the most personally challenging as I’ve worked towards the highest academic qualification you can get. It’s been a fabulous time, especially all the friendships, relationships and travel that it brought me!

However, the past three years would not have been possible without my fellow PGRs, especially H105. They have been my rock throughout all of this! Friends that I know I will have forever! The battle of the Viva and my ode to H105  A perfect weekend: A wedding and Friendships Yet, they’re not alone in my thoughts as I look back on this decade. You see, for every fail and trust me I have 1000 fails to every one of my successes. You see, whether I’ve failed or I’ve achieved I’ve never been alone. I’ve had people in my life for those ten years who’ve been through everything, I’ve had people who’ve come and gone. Each time was leaving a piece of them with me that has changed me. People have left me with positives and some with lessons. I’ve had so many unsung heroes on this journey, so many people who when I lost faith, put their faith in me. I’ve had the most amazing mentors who backed me when I didn’t back myself, who pushed me beyond my perceived limits to see what I was truly capable of. This decade is littered with the most amazing, kind-hearted, dedicated, and loyal people I have ever met. I have had friends like Chloe, Emma, Hannah, Luke, Laura, Vic, Katie, the list goes on who have stood by me through thick and thin. Who has never waivered, who always believe in me and what I stand for. Without out, I wouldn’t be possible.

I feel as I end this decade that I am incredibly wealthy in terms of the company that I now keep. 2010 me was a lost boy who didn’t fit in. 2019 me is a man who has found a home, a family. I may not be where I thought I would be, but I’m where I feel I’m meant to be.

Let’s see what the new decade holds, 2010-2010 was the decade of achievement…I’m ready for the adventure of this new decade. What it will be called I guess I’ll find out in 10 years, but I am ready for it to be written!

 

Decade of Achievement

  • A – Levels
  • UK’s first parliamentary school speaker award winner
  • UK Good Citizen of the year award
  • BSc Geography
  • Novel published on Amazon
  • Top 20 UK undergraduate researchers (2013)
  • MSc Sustainability
  • Outstanding Academic Support staff overall winner 2016
  • Editor of IJSaP
  • 4 papers published
  • PhD
  • Driving Licence
  • Senior Lecturer
  • Deputy Chair of Ethics
  • Post Graduate Assessment Officer

 

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December 22, 2019

Lake Como and Monza Part 1

With the August rain hammering against the steamed windows of the local coffee shop, and in between the clinks and whoosh of cups and espresso machines I sat down for a long overdue catch up with my good friend Shaun. Shaun, I’ve known since High School and since we left that place many years ago we’ve always stayed in touch and our social meetups often involved two wheels. We’d cycled over Ireland together, the Isle of Man and would spend most weekends in a variety of weather, laughing and joking on our cycle rides. Yet, this was the first time in a year I’d seen him! Busy work commitments, my focus on finishing my PhD and a series of injuries this year meant neither of us had ventured out onto our bikes in a year, and our usual rides and catch-ups had been absent, except for the odd message here and there.

It was good to catch up, we had a lot to catch up on! Towards the end as the last drops of coffee dripped down the side of the cup, he asks “Fancy doing the Italian Grand Prix in a few weeks time, mate?”. Within 24 hours and many phone calls and messages later, flights, tickets, apartment were booked, and a rough itinerary agreed. We were off to Monza!

Monza is an iconic grand Prix, in fact, it’s the fastest Formula One GP on the calendar. One of the iconic historic tracks, along with Silverstone. I hadn’t made an F1 trip for a few years, I’ve spent many a coin in Silverstone and even abroad to Valencia for the now-defunct European GP race with my Bro Luke. A trip I remember fondly, having a holiday based around an F1 race is undoubtedly a good excuse as any to getaway! Truth be told, I needed the break. Since finishing the PhD I haven’t actually been away anywhere, and Italy was a place, despite my many travels, I hadn’t been to. Add to the fact that I hadn’t been away at all in 2019 (which for me is shocking! In 2017 I went away for a week or more every month, including Iceland and Canada and in 2018 another busy travel year with the highlights being Croatia, Switzerland and Norway) so I was desperate to get travelling again.

We agreed that we’d base ourselves out of the more expensive Lake Como (a place that is consistently on travel sites as the must-visit places in Italy) rather than the cheaper Bergamo, for a few logistical reasons. The flights were sold out on the Friday and the Monday to and from Milan in Manchester, with to my surprise, Ryanair being the only one to offer a daily flight to Milan from the North West. With Ryanair being Ryanair, their airport called Milan isn’t actually in Milan at all but situated in a town called Bergamo, an hours drive from Milan! So that meant a Thursday to Tuesday trip, five days we agreed in Bergamo was a bit too much. As pretty as Bergamo looked, five days would be a tall order, despite how cheap it was, i.e. £100 each for five nights! Also, to get to Monza, we’d have to get a 40-minute train into Milan and then another 40-minute train to Monza, with everyone else. Which would be chaos, especially after the race with everyone else heading to Milan. A bit of research and Como would be an hours drive to Milan from Bergamo and then a 40-minute train to Como. To get to Monza would only be a 20-minute train each day, going against the flow of everyone else. So we decided on that, plus Como has a hell of a lot more to do!

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Ready for Italy!

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With an 8 a.m. flight, we were off to Europe after a godawful .4 a.m. start and drive to Manchester (thanks for the lift as always to the legend that is my Dad!). Manchester is still a lousy airport to travel through, but it was for once, rather painless. We did laugh as we boarded the priority queue with every else on the plane doing the same, only 4 people were not priority! It was something out of a Come Fly With Me sketch! After an hours sleep on the plane, I woke up as we were flying over Switzerland, the blue lakes and Alps reaching up towards us through the clouds. As we descended further, we flew into Italy, across the sprawling Lake Como, over the airport before hooking left onto the approach. There is a joke in the Aviation Community about Ryanair pilots being Carrier pilots, along with plenty of youtube compilation clips. On arrival, we hit the runway so hard I thought the struts were going to erupt through the wings. Brutal.

On landing, however, is one of life’s best moments, that blast of heat and sun as you walk outside of the plane. That sure-fire sign that you’re finally on holiday! We had left 9c and arrived in 26c and blue skies, the alps glimmering in the distance. Yaas! We were off the plane and through immigration and waiting for our bag all within 5 minutes. Why any Brexiteer wants to stand in a non-Eu Queue for years is beyond me, but then again I guess they wouldn’t holiday in Europe would they? That would be a bit hypocritical! After getting our bags, we walked out of the busy terminal and into the simmering sun to find a bus. To get to Como, we had to get into Milan’s central train station and then catch a train to Switzerland which stopped at Como, the final stop before the border. Lucky, despite Bergamo being an hours drive from Milan, all the other low-cost airlines use Milan-Bergamo airport and therefore there is no shortage of bus companies offering one-way tickets between the airport and Milan station for between 5 and 8 euros.

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Next stop, Lake Como

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We were ushered onto a coach by an Italian Will.i.am including glasses and jaunty hat, paid him our 7 euros and basked in the relief from the sun in the air-conditioned cabin. The hour drive on the motorway and through villages was an excellent way to appreciate some of the countryside. However, what was a shock to both Shaun and me is how utterly terrible Milan looks. I expected Milan to be a beautiful Italian city, in reality, it gave off the vibe of an old eastern bloc town. It looked incredibly rundown, litter everywhere and most surprisingly, every building and sign had graffiti on it. Every. Single. One! Outside of the station as we got off the coach, with 60s prefab office buildings with a broken window and a scruffy park with beggars in it. Wow. This was not what I was expecting. I am sure there are parts of Milan which are beautiful, but the first impressions were less than impressive. We scurried inside of the mayhem of Milan central station. A huge station with over 28 platforms on numerous levels, going all over Italy and into Switerzland and France. After struggling to find our train and using Google translate we eventually bought our ticket, a whole 3.20 euro! Train travel is dirt cheap here! We spent ages trying to find our train, my go-to Google Maps had a train leaving, but the final destination was not the one on the board. In the end, we asked someone which train for Como. “Platform 5. Run”. We were at this point, on Platform 23 and the train was leaving in 5 minutes. We walked or maybe jogged with our rattling suitcases behind us, dodging the hoards of people. We managed to just bundle ourselves onto the train before it moved off Northwards towards Switzerland. Dripping in sweat but we made it!

As we rattled northwards, swaying in the aisles and being incredibly hot, an English family sitting down next to us asked us if we were off to Monza. We were indeed! We had a great chat as we heading through the Italian countryside. They were staying in Milan and were getting off at Monza to work out how long it would take over the next three days, they were sitting in the expensive seats in the Parabolica whereas Shaun and I were doing the far cheaper option of General Admission (£450 vs £98). We pulled up eventually into Monza station, bid farewell to them and then quickly took their seats (weirdly enough we’d bump into them again on race day!).

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After 40 minutes on the train, next stop Como Giaovani station pinged on the tannoy. Como came into view, the coloured buildings clinging to the mountainside, the glimmering lake, the sprawling city below. We had finally arrived!

Exiting the station I phoned the number I was given for our apartment, through broken English and my poor Italian we managed to work out that we’d both arrive in 20 minutes or so. With the phone away, we set off through the town to the apartment on the other side of this lavish place. It had started to cloud over slightly, high wispy clouds increasing the humidity making the 26c heat uncomfortable, especially in jeans, a backpack and lugging a suitcase around. Instantly, the vibe of Como was a world away from Milan. Clean ancient buildings, tree-lined narrow cobbled streets, architecture wherever you looked. Stunning. We weaved in and out of small narrow roads, the buildings close in each decorated with sprawling, green ivy or flower boxes, the different coloured wooden shutters adorning the windows.

Cafes tumbled out into the street, clinks of glasses, laughter and hurried waiters taking orders drifted through the air. Turn another corner, and a square so often found in Europe comes into view. Grand buildings, the hustle and bustle, more cafes. Exiting the square back through more narrow streets, a man with a pin-sharp suit races past on a vesper, followed by a woman on a pushbike with a basket on the front. Stops and enters one of the grocery stores with bright coloured fruit and veg that formed a mountain inside the crates that were stacked against the shop. The smell enticing you in. Another turn, another square, a gigantic cathedral, comes into view. Impressive. Everything about this place was impressive. Another glance at Google Maps, not far to go. A jaunt across the train tracks and taking our life into our hands crossing the main busy road in Como and we arrived outside of our apartment block.

There wasn’t much for us to do except wait for whoever it was to turn up. An odd thing staying in apartments when you’re on holiday, you’re relying on a complete stranger. You don’t know who they are, what they look like, will they murder you or not? I assumed by the 8.6 ratings on Booking.com that I wasn’t going to be killed, but you never know. While we did wait, I gasped in glee as an old Lancia Abarth roared past me. A true iconic Italian rally car. You couldn’t get any more Italian of seeing a Lancia, in Como. All that was missing was the tune of On Days Like These by Matt Monroe. We got a real feel for the “don’t drive in Italy” message that so many people go on about. They go on about it because they’re batshit crazy drivers. We watched in amazement and horror of Fiat 500’s shifting down gears and darting in and out of traffic to make places up. Scrambler bikes and mopeds weaved in and out, overtaking, undertaking, traffic lights being a suggestion rather than a rule. Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maseratti, supercar after supercar, their roaring engines echoing off the walls. This place was crazy!

The latter shouldn’t have surprised me much, this place is the go-to summer getaway for the rich. In fact, not only is it one of the most expensive real estate places in Italy but the entire world! The who’s who of people have homes here. I can see why. The lake takes 2 hours by boat end to end, and if it was anything like the bottom, Como, then I can totally see why the rich choose to have their fancy villas dotted all along this gigantic lake. If you could afford to, why would you not? We were eventually greeted by two young students, whether they owned this place or worked for some rich guy who did I don’t know but after showing us around and signing a few papers over we got our keys to a fabulous apartment. Two beds, a kitchen and an unbelievable view outside of our first-floor balcony. Oh, how we’d make us of that this trip!

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Apartment balcony views!

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A quick unpack and we headed out to stock up the fridge with food and beer, mostly beer. I had fallen in love with this place already, it was everything I hoped Lake Como would be. Grand, luxurious, charming but stunningly beautiful. Italian architecture at it’s best. Wow, it felt good to be on my travels again! We took a walk down to the lake first, amazed by the view and how James Bond it all felt as a private Sea Plane took off from a villa and made its way skyward. This is the life! Before stepping into the supermarket, we took a little stop in one of the many cafes in this town, enjoying the warmth and the local beer. I tell you that went down a treat in that heat!

After spending our time browsing inside and then exiting the supermarket, I commented to Shaun how dark it suddenly felt. Those of you who know me know I do a lot of weather stuff, particularly storms and oh boy my storm senses were tingling. In the relatively short space of time the clouds had rolled in, the sun no longer visible, the still air now slowly increasing in speed with a coolness to it. The rain was coming, but the sky always has that look, those telltale signs of instability in the atmosphere. “I reckon it’s going to thunder soon, mate. I have a feeling this place is going to blow in a big way”. Shaun probably thought I was a bit dramatic, to him yeah it had slowly clouded over, but there were no black clouds on the horizon, the wind was gentle if not cooling, but it was  ..6 p.m. now, of course, it would be cool. What is Tony going on about!?

We got back to the room and relaxed for a bit before setting about making our tea. To which we realised that we didn’t actually buy any oil for the frying pan, so tea was out of the question. Doh! Annoyingly when the apartment said Kitchen I expected the usual, fridge, sink, hob and oven but it had everything bar an oven or a grill, the only cooking appliance being a hob. A culinary challenge that would turn out to be to create a few hob only dishes! “Fuck. We forgot the oil!” … “ha! Shall we go for that classic Italian dish? McDonald’s?” “Yeah! Why not, we’ll cook tomorrow!”

We ventured back into Como and found a McDonalds, which was the grandest McDonalds I had ever stepped foot in! Using the self-service machine, I browsed the menu. Italian Mcies is far superior, loads more choice, including loaded fries and instead of water or coke, you could order beer! What!? A large chicken nugget meal and hamburger for me for similar prices here. The only problem with self-service is you better hope you know that languages numbers when they call them. We didn’t, so we hung around the front of the service area, and when they shouted if no one claimed it, it was probably ours. We gingerly showed our ticket each time; eventually, I got mine and then Shaun got his Grand Mac which was huge! We step outside, and suddenly all hell was breaking loose. I was right, a storm was brewing and it was close! Everyone else had started to make their way indoors while us typical brits sat outside as the rain began to fall, lightning forked across the sky in the distant alps, the claps of thunder rattling the old town and the wind howled.

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Lightning!

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I love thunder and lightning storms, I absolutely adore them, but I respect them. Sitting outside in what was quickly becoming one of the most intense lightning storms I had ever witnessed was not our best idea. I promptly ate mine, fighting to stop my fries being launched into the wind. Another clap and flash of thunder, closer, much much closer than before. Over the roar of the wind “How much you got left to eat mate?” I enquire, as another crack of thunder this time overhead. “Errrm, still my grand mac mate!”. We both burst into laughter. He hadn’t even touched his grand mac yet! Whether it was the fear of being killed in one of the most intense lightning storms this place has ever seen, I don’t know, but we laughed about that for ages. How he ate that and didn’t throw up from laughing, I’ll never know. Another rip in the air. It really was time to go. We walked back to the apartment, opened a few cans of beer and watched as the heavens indeed opened and one of the most magnificent, awe-inspiring and frightening thunder and lightning storms light up the ever-darkening sky. We sat in the safety of the balcony watching constant flashes of lightning, a frequency I had never experienced before, forking across the sky, waves of rain, rivers running in the streets.

We stayed outside for hours as the storm got more and more intense, daytime turned to night, not that we noticed much as the flashes continued to go off, the wind continued to gust and howl in the powerful downdrafts of the supercell. But watching nature at her most beautiful and most potent while looking out at a lit-up cathedral with a beer in hand was actually a pretty sweet way to end our first day in Como.

By time  ..11 p.m. came, with the storm finally showing signs of moving away in the distance, we called it quits. Shut the balcony up and got into bed. Little did we know, however, that the storm we had just witnessed was an appetiser, to the real storm that was just behind it. It would make itself known in the early hours of the morning, in a massive way!

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Part 2 soon!

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August 18, 2019

Autumn is around the corner. My four likes and dislikes of this season.

The nights are now getting longer, and thus, the days are shorter. There is a noticeable coolness to the winds that flow in off the Atlantic now, the first detectable signs of change in the colours of the leaves. Autumn is just around the corner.

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For some, autumn brings people joy and cheer, a change in the season, those turning colours of the leaves a welcome sign to usher in the colder weather as a respite from the summer. Not that we’ve had a particularly good end to the summer! It’s felt more autumnal in August this year than it does in November! Autumn, or fall, if you like saying words wrong, if I had to rank it, I’d place it at number 3 on my list. Spring is by far my favourite season when everything is warming up, nature is coming alive, and there is an excitement for the summer ahead, the longer days, the hot weather, and days out in the sun. Beautiful! Autumn, however, don’t get me wrong has its perks, way more than winter does (god I hate winter!) but it’s not as good as spring or summer. So, before you can say pumpkin spice latte, autumn will be here. So here are my four not so favourite things about this season and my, to its credit, four things I do like about this season.

Dislikes

I’m aware that many of my dislikes for autumn are probably some of your favourite things about it. You’re wrong, but that’s fine, I can live with that. Oddly, some of my dislikes have an alter ego side to them and form the basis of some of my likes for this season. All will become clear, I promise!

  1. The Long Nights and the Weather

In at number one is my number one dislike of autumn. The shorter days and long nights. It does my Seasonal Affective Disorder no good at all! The long days of summer, I pine for, the bright blue azure skies and the twilight of what little darkness hours exist in the summer. Autumn that all changes. You get up in the dark and by the time you get home from work, it’s nearly dark. It makes me feel like I’m trapped in a lightless cardboard box. Grim. I’m the type of person who runs hot to touch, which means I always feel cold, so I dread the colder weather coming in. At least now I don’t look out of place wearing jumpers and gilets, so silver lining I guess! I love the weather, but I suppose you might have already figured that out if my social media posts are anything to go by. Sure, I love storms they’re exciting, especially thunderstorms but in autumn the heat and the energy in the atmosphere dissipates, the high pressure forms low pressure and we go from clear blue skies to occasional epic thunderstorms, to an endless conveyor belt off of the Atlantic of cold wind, torrential rain, and endless days of cloud. If you’re lucky it might be spiced up with some fog or as they say in Newfoundland, Canada, you’re blessed with a million-dollar day. Which basically means it’s a blessing when you get a sunny day.

Wind and endless rain and no blue skies makes S.A.D. worse. How anyone can enjoy cold, wet and grey weather is beyond me, I think you need to be sectioned. There is nothing fun about it at all, and I cannot fathom why anyone prefers that over warm blue skies!

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Sunset and raindrops

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  1. Everything is a variety of Pumpkin

I get it, a critical autumnal event is Halloween and the tradition of pumpkin picking and carving is I admit, a fun thing to do. Pumpkins are there to be carved, have a candle shoved inside of it for one night and then disposed of into the compost heap because that’s where these weird orange balls deserve to be. They smell horrific when you’re carving them, and they taste as good as they smell. Awful. In recent years and I can only imagine this is the U.K.’s attempt to become more mainstream America (we have kids graduating with cap and gowns now from Nursery now, so why the hell not, next we’ll be buying guns in our supermarkets and blaming video games for mass shootings) that autumn signals retailers to add Pumpkin Spice to ordinary things. Pumpkin does not belong in coffee, how dare you tarnish the wonders of that beautiful hot bean juice with that filth! A delicious blueberry muffin is replaced by a Pumpkin Muffin. Candles are sprinkled with Pumpkin spice, Pumpkin bread, Pumpkin, Pumpkin, Pumpkin! I don’t actually think anyone actually enjoys a Pumpkin spiced anything, they just say they do to look like they’re cool Autumn Hipsters. Sorry, I feel I may have needed to get that off my chest.

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Cliffe pumpkins

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  1. Excuses for public transport

Granted, hopefully, this year now that I’ve passed my test and will have a car that this won’t be such a bugbear of mine, but as the seasons change, I can hear that big fat book of public transport excuses opening with a thud. Autumn brings in the wonderful excuses for those who operate public transport, (not naming names or pointing the finger here, well known North West train company *cough*) to cover up for their lack of service providing.  “What shall it be today, John? The 16.45 is cancelled because we forgot to staff it”… “Meh. Autumn? Oh yeah! Leaves on the line! Remember, it’s the wrong type of leaves! Don’t forget to tell the passengers that!”

“So this week we’ve had, the wrong rain, the wrong ice, the wrong wind, the wrong frost and now the wrong leaves? They suspect nothing!”

Autumn just gives people an excuse to cancel things, cancel plans and gives everyone the perfect excuse, just blame it on the weather!

  1. The changing of the leaves

Number four is one of my likes for a different reason, but here I will address why I dislike it. I hate it because I find it so incredibly sad! Spring and summer are so full of life and autumn is a swan song for all the plants and animals. Some creatures only survive the summer before dying, and the leaves on those big old mighty Oak show off with their most dazzling and spectacular colours, all that pizazz just before they lose it all.

One reason I absolutely despise winter is that everything is so bare and dead. Lifeless trees, lifeless light and gloomy clouds. Eugh! I just always feel despondent in autumn when the leaves change, the exotic birds fly back home leaving our shores, and bird song which is so loud in summer is replaced by the odd chirp here and there. Depressing!

Likes

Admittedly, those four dislikes above used to be a lot more, but as I’ve grown older while autumn will always remain firmly in 3rd place, I have grown fonder over the years of it. So, here are some of my most liked things about the season.

  1. Photography

Mirror of the lake

A passion of mine is photography and autumn to me, is the best time of the year for it. Sure, summer you can get out more to photograph things, but often it’s the wrong type of light. Summer sun can often be too bright, too harsh, which ruins your contrasts in shots and it has a cool feeling to it. Plus, landscapes are often very monochromatic, they’re just blue and then bright green for the leaves. Autumn is full of colour, the sky changes to a different blue, the green of the trees changes to deep reds, oranges, purples and pinks and the light is softer. It gives a photographer a treasure trove of photographic opportunities.

Sunrise on the canal

I love autumn for the colours it gives you, while it does make me sad I take comfort in capturing natures beauty before it goes super bland in winter.

Fisherman on the Leeds Liverpool Canal

  1. The Sunsets and the night sky

In a similar vein to Number one, my favourite time of day is twilight, always has been. There is something extraordinary about everything being backlit and silhouetted against the sky. In autumn, twilight gets dragged out as the angle of the sun gets lower, and due to this, before nightfall in autumn often offers up the most spectacular of sunsets and sunrises. With colder, denser air and the low angle of the sun, more light rays get scattered, giving me one of my favourite sights, Mother Nature, at her most glorious. Autumn offers up the most amazing colours you could ever see in the sky, and that makes me happy! Long after the sun is set, the night sky often has a deep soft glow to it before turning purple and then black. Stunning.

Those of you know me well know that a big passion of mine is Astrophotography. Astrophotography for me starts to come into its own in autumn. Yes, technically winter is the most perfect time for it due to it being the clearest of skies in the atmosphere and the most exciting in terms of what to see, at least autumn offers some form of warmth. I can spend a good few hours outside in the autumn photographing the stars compared to maybe an hour or so in the winter.

Norwegian Winters night in the forest

In summer, there is often too much haze for clear night sky photography, not to mention that this far north that you may not know this, but in Liverpool, we don’t officially have night time from about Mid-June till September.

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We stay in Nautical and Astronomical Twilight, so it’s often not dark enough to photograph stars. While it may seem dark outside to you, the camera still looks like it’s almost day time. So hurray for night time, never hear me say that again in any other context!

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Caught a satellite tonight!

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  1. The Cosy Feeling, cold weather and warm jumpers

The weather, oh, we’ve been here before, right? Obsession alert! While often the weather is pants in autumn, it does usually offer up some of the clearest and bluest of skies. Not to mention those sunsets and star-studded skies I love so much. But, there is also something incredibly cosy and special about autumn that, as I’ve got older, I’ve grown to look forward to. While nothing will ever replace the feeling of warm sunshine and wind on my skin, I love wearing shorts and t-shirts! I must admit that I secretly look forward to wearing chunky knit jumpers again. I love wearing big thick boots, warm jeans, gloves, scarfs, mix and matching many blazers and coats in an outfit and above all, the cosiness of a beanie hat.

Plus, it’s the perfect excuse for me to go full Geographer and wear boots, fleece lined walking pants and various fleeces and waterproofs. Yes! Love the adventurer look!

There is something special about that nip in the air, that cold that stings your cheeks when you get inside, the smell of the fire crackling or the warm caress of the heating, the crunch of the frost underfoot and that no better feeling of when it is frosty outside or the wind and rain is howling against your window, and you look outside from the warmth of your bed. Bliss!

There is something also about autumn that brings the kid out in you. Piles of leaves on the floor are impossible not to kick, pumpkins have to be picked, and fireworks set off. Autumn still awakens that little kid in me, the one who knows that just around the corner is winter and winter means Christmas. Yay! Autumn is super cosy.

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Crunch of the frost

  1. The food

With colder weather means a better appetite. Throw out those salads because you no longer need a beach-ready body, you need a hibernation ready body! Jumpers and thick coats hide a multitude of sins and food is just way better in autumn and winter.

When it’s too hot, you turn your back on cosy and comforting foods for salads, B.B.Q.s and vegetables. In winter, there is nothing more comforting than a giant bowl of chunky soup and crusty bread to dip into it. Hearty meals like scouse, stew and pies become the go-to on a cold day. Drinks all suddenly appear to be mulled, and I get to drink my favourite autumn/winter drink, Hot Ribena.

Yaaaas! I’m ready for it! While summer isn’t over yet (did it ever really start? Am I right?!) There will still be the occasional hot spell for us to enjoy, but the inevitable is just around the corner. Autumn is nearly here, the long nights, the pumpkin spice and the big coat season is fast upon us!

Is Autumn your favourite season or is it your worst? Let me know in the comments and why!

 

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August 16, 2019

A dedication to the mentors

A sign in my kitchen states ‘Behind every successful person lies a substantial amount of coffee’ while I agree that may well be the case, it is missing a sentence. That sentence should be “and a series of mentors who have inspired, developed and took a chance on that person”.

In my latest new series of dedication blogs, the first of which is dedicated to these five amazing individuals: My dedication to the inner circle! this one is dedicated to many people who, in a professional context have either inspired, developed or taken a chance on me as mentors. Despite being full of over-self confidence, I’m fully aware that my successes are not down to me alone. Hard work, a massive slice of luck and a number of dedicated mentors, have made me who I am today. I’ve been very fortunate to have had the guidance or the backing of a number of good mentors over the years. Too many, sadly to put in this blog. I’ve had mentors from football coaches as a kid to my recent supervisory team, all of whom have played an equally important part in my development. For example, my last supervisory team have had a considerable hand in my PhD success, but they know that and I’ve written about them in my PhD blogs. But, just like the first dedication blog I thought I’d pick this time, six people who I’d like to say thanks to, who I don’t often write about.

When you think of a typical mentor, you probably think of usually someone who is older, wiser and ultimately someone who you respect. Mentors can inspire you to be better, they can demand and push you to be better and ultimately, every mentor sees something in you that you fail to see in yourself. Mentors you don’t have to get along with or even like necessarily (but it does help), but you respect them. The mentors in this blog some I got on really well with and ultimately had a great working relationship with, some even became friends. Some, I had no formal working relationship with, and some I absolutely hated!

Inspiration 

A good mentor will often unlock hidden potential, or part of yourself that you didn’t know existed before. They’ll ignite a fire and a drive in you because they’ve been so inspirational, either in their demeanour or in whatever it is they do. For this, I often think of two teachers that I had in High School who inspired two significant parts of my identity, Geography and Writing.

Ask any Geographer and long after their degrees they’ll still strongly identify themselves as a proud geographer. Regardless of age, fierce debate and banter between the fractions of Geographers will always be had, and god help it if you proclaim a Human Geographer as a Physical one! Or vice a Versa. I’ve always had a passion for Geography as a subject, and it’s not solely down to my Geography Teacher Mr Naughton. My love for the subject started way earlier when, as a small child, I discovered this vast, imposing dusty Atlas in our attic. I can still smell that book now as I turned its pages, it was old, so ancient! But I remember flicking through the pictures of all the different countries, reading about the vastly different landscapes and it’s people. I was hooked. The sense of adventure, a world was waiting for me to explore. Of course, this was in the days of pre-internet, a dusty Atlas and Encarta 95 was all my child mind had in my pursuit of epic travels and adventure.

Mr Naughton, however, brought the subject to life. No longer was it on the pages of a dusty Atlas and a fanciful overactive imagination of my child self, it was now real. I’ve never met a teacher who was so enthusiastic about the subject, the proudest of Geographers. Mr Naughton really fostered that passion for the subject, little did I know that I’d go on to do it at GCSE, A-Level, Degree Level, Masters Level and then finally, PhD level! My long journey as a proud geographer started with the inspirational Mr Naughton.

So while I’m a proud geographer and always will be, I’m also a passionate writer. I write blogs and novels for fun, and that comes down Mrs Bygroves. Mrs Bygroves was a strict teacher, the scousest of scouse accents, hard but fair. As I explained in my blog about why I write: Why do I write blogs? It’s a window to the emotional me! It was her who pulled me to one side after my English GCSE coursework and told me I had a gift for the written word and that I should write novels and stories for others to enjoy. So I did. I wrote my first novel and published my second on Amazon. I had discovered a critical skill that I never knew I really had, a passion for conveying stories and emotions, something that is now a massive part of my identity is all down to Mrs Bygroves and her seeing something in me, that I didn’t know myself.

Push you to your limits

So while mentors should be inspirational and make you see something in yourself, they can often go about it in different ways. Some will nurture and foster it in a friendly manner to get you to be the best you can be. Others will be harsh, demanding, thankless and at times make you hate them with every fibre of your being. At the time you wonder why they’re picking on you, why are they so harsh on you compared to everyone else and why do you not get the praise that everyone else does. Then you realise when you do reach the top of your game that they did that to push you. They saw your maximum potential and that you were way below their standards and the only way to get you to push past what you thought was your limit was to be cruel to be kind.

I’ve had two mentors like that in my life, my old commanding officer in the Air Training Corps and my former Personal Academic Tutor who became my boss as an RA. Two older men who’s stature and stance oozed authority and wisdom. Two men who have pushed me further mentally than anyone has before and probably ever will. Two people for some unknown reason I desperately wanted to impress, to prove myself to and to be acknowledged. But this mentor taught me the very definition of pushing the limits.

It may come as a shock to some of you to know that I wasn’t always the over self-confident, outspoken person I am today. In fact, many years ago, I lacked a lot of confidence in myself and around others. That all changed with one man. As one of my COs, he was always on my back throughout training and day to day life. Throwing me into the deep end with things, leading tasks, getting my voice heard. ATC rarely gave out compliments to any of us, I guess that’s the RAFs way of making you want to be better. When it did come, it was often short and curtailed (tradition of stiff British upper lip I suspect) but rarely was it ever directed in my direction. Which conflicted me. I keep getting asked to do these new tasks for which I seemed to be good at, but there was no confirmation or praise from those above. That irritated me in a way that made my already stubborn self, even more determined to succeed.

A turning point in my self-confidence comes to mind as clear as day. We were on deployment for a week on an SAS training camp in the depths of Shropshire on a bitterly cold and snowy February. We’d spent all day and night evading the infamous Landy force across the vast rolling hills and outbuildings of the training ranges. I’d been put in charge of navigation, faces covered in camo paint, boots covered in slush and mud and near hypothermic, we achieved our objective. Rescued the downed pilot and got back to base without being captured. My first real sense of achievement by putting myself out there in a position of leadership. By the time we arrived back at the barracks in the early hours, we barely got any sleep before being rudely awoken by a room inspection. I’d been chosen by him to be in command of our small dorm in a barracks. Again, I felt woefully underqualified. He comes in, nods to others a job well done, looks at my boots which to me were spotless “Dirt on them, Cliffe. Do them again! Press-ups outside, now”. “Yes, Sir!” I replied through gritted teeth. He hated me, I thought!

A few hours later, we were kitted up to go on the range. By this time the snow had started again, an icy wind ripped through the standard-issue kit with such ease I might as well have been naked for all the warmth it offered. After dissembling and cleaning the L98 and SA80 rifles in record time (still no recognition for that) as a troop, we headed out into the freezing snow on the range. To this day, it is still one of my most epic and coolest memories, the sound of gunfire, the snow falling, a Lynx army helicopter hovering off to one side, the recoil of the weapon in your shoulder. So.Much.Awesomeness!

While firing down the range, my fingers turning to frostbite (You’ve never felt anything colder than a trigger on a rifle in the snow!) in my peripheral vision I could see hands raised to the left and right of me, muffled shouts of “Jam!” and the range officer coming over to each individual. I was an awful shot, a sniper or expert marksmen I most certainly was not but I kept firing, with each shot pulling the bolt back and watching as the expended shell casing flicked and spun in the air. Load, breathe, hold breath, squeeze the trigger, recoil, bolt. Repeat, until that click on the rifle meant all my rounds in the rifle had been expended into the target a few hundred yards away. I raise my hand and raise my rifle over my shoulder to show the range officer that my rifle was empty. “Jam?… Oh, all done? Report to the CO” and with a slap on my back I exited the range, still noticing various hands raising and the range officer moving in to unjam the guns. The rest of the squad still laying prone into the snow.

Then there he was, immaculately dressed, a warm thermos in his hand steeming in the cold weather, as I present my rifle to him through chattering teeth, god I had never been so cold!

“Sir. All rounds fired, no Jam. Sir”

He gave a raised smile, which was so rare that I didn’t know if I had indeed become delirious with hypothermia, and in the most typical British Officers voice exclaims “Only one not to Jam your weapon, Cliffe. I expected absolutely nothing less from you. You’d have been the only one not to be killed. Congratulations. Dismissed”.

To me, that was the biggest compliment I had ever been given by him! That night we received word that some of us where being selected to head down south to RAF Lyneham to fly in a C130 Hercules. An unbelievable opportunity! He read the names off of the 10 lucky few, I was number 10! The next day I remember looking out of the back of the C130 as we raced over the Bristol Channel at 1000 feet. Over the rush of adrenaline, air and incredible noise of the four engines he says “Cliffe! This is what happens when you believe in your abilities. I pushed you so hard so that you’d become that. You’ve pushed yourself and others this trip to be better, I’m proud of you. Enjoy this! I’m putting you forward for the NCO course” and with a salute and a handshake it finally all made sense. I had a perceived physical and mental limit, but his was way beyond that, and I needed that tough love to reach it. It was the first time I backed myself and truly knew my capabilities. From then on he was still as hard as ever but was more forthcoming with the odd compliment, I flew with him often, practising flying over the North West of England, always demanding but boy did I learn a hell of a lot from him! I owe a lot to my years to him and to the RAF ATC in general. It taught me mental strength, leadership, the ability to see the strengths and weaknesses of others, teamwork and plus the fantastic days flying aircraft and shooting weapons. Closest I ever got to be being a badass! They were the best of days!

Take a chance

So some mentors inspire you and some push you whereas others they toss their chips into the ring and take a gamble on you. This is a dedication to the mentors who placed their faith in you by taking some sort of risk and hoping it would pay off.

The epitome of that was my Maths teacher, Mr Coggin. He made a decision, a gamble, that ultimately had such a significant influence on my academic career. Coggin was a bit weird, a proper eco nut, way before it was socially acceptable or hipster to care about the environment. He was strange but really cared for his students, he had an engaging teaching style, but ultimately, maths was life to him. Maths, well we’ve never really got on, that and spelling are often my Achilles heel. Give me time and a pen and paper, and I’m okay, mental maths? Nope. No chance! As we got closer to year 9 SATs exams things were not going too well in maths. For those of you who don’t know, SATs were a form of exams taken in year 9 which based on your performance you got put into sets, 1 being the top, 5 being the bottom. Only sets 1 and 2 would be entered into the higher GCSE papers where you could get from A* to fail, whereas sets 3 to 5 would be entered into the intermediate and lower papers where the top grade you could achieve was a C. Therefore, in principle, easier exam but no higher than a C regardless if you aced it.

Each teacher in English, Maths and Science had to make a decision on sets before the SATs exam. I was struggling in maths and not for my lack of trying either. I knew how essential maths was as a subject. At this point, I still had dreams of being an Air Traffic Controller, I wanted to do science at GCSE and A-Level. While a C in GCSE maths is fine, I didn’t want to be a C student, I wanted to be more than that. I knew I needed a good SAT score to get into a top set, so that I could take the higher papers and get the As and Bs I wanted for A level and therefore get into University. I remember him breaking the news to me that he was considering dropping me down a set so that I’d find it more accessible, it wouldn’t look too good to have a Set 2 student do poorly. Yet, he knows I’m putting the effort in, that I wanted to be in a top set and just needed some more guidance. So, he said he was holding off on the decision, he’d give me a few weeks to improve despite the pressure from above to drop me a set. He gave me extra work, would always ask me to answer stuff in class, and I worked the hardest I ever had. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, but above all, I wanted to repay him and him putting his neck out on the line for me.

SATs came around, and I got straight 7-7-7. Top marks. I did it! I’d just got my results as I walked down the corridor and I bumped into him and told him the news. “Knew you could do it!” with a beaming smile. What a gamble! If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have gone on to do the higher papers in Maths and Science at GCSE and ultimately would never have taken my science A levels. While I still always struggled with Maths, I was happy to be a B student in it. Technically, you needed an A in maths to do the A levels in Quantum Mechanics and Astrophysics, but somehow I was let on with my B. I strongly suspect Coggin had a hand to play in that. I still always love and feel super nerdy that I have A levels in Quantum Mechanics and Astro Physics! That and Biology and Geography. All not possible without that gamble by him!

 

Look out for you

Mentors can often be one of those things above or all of them at once. Often what combines all mentors is a sense of looking out for you as a person and having your best interests at heart. Sure, they come at it from different angles based on their experiences and their personalities, but ultimately they want what’s best for you. Luckily, I think all of my many mentors have had that element about them, certainly my academic mentors from the entire GID staff to my former supervisors at LJMU, they’ve been nothing but supportive. Two mentors, however, stand out to me as being all those things discussed so far, inspirational, dedicated, driven, trust in you but finally, looking out for you. Dr Ruth Healey and Dr Katharine Welsh have been two of my biggest academic mentors for 9 years. I’ve gone from being a student of them both, to them both being my boss at various times, to colleagues, office buddies and then friends.

Ruth and Katharine have been incredibly supportive from day one as a student. As a boss, they were keen to develop me as best they could but in such a way that I was always looked after. A real rare commodity in this day and age when bosses actually care for their employees! Both of them had always looked out for me, especially when I moved away from Chester to do my PhD, they were still keeping in touch, being a soundboard for advice and always thinking of me when opportunities arose. Be that to present my work, do a research project here and there, work as an editor for a major journal or even job applications. I’ve been super fortunate to have many mentors like that, but the two of them have become to me, at least, the epitome of a perfect example of what a mentor should be. Whenever I mentor someone, be that students, fellow colleagues of friends, I take a leaf out of their style of mentorship. They have a bit of each and every one of those mentors discussed so far, but they put their own flair and spin on it.

My academic career thus far would have looked so very different if I wasn’t backed, supported, gambled on, guided and encouraged by those two.

Ultimately, a mentor should part wisdom, encourage, and after spending time with them, you become a better person. They and all of my mentors I owe for that! So, thank you, thank you for making me who I am, thank you for gambling on me, backing me, pushing me and seeing things in me that I didn’t see. Without you, I wouldn’t be me.

Thank you!

 

 

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August 15, 2019

My 2019 so far: January to July

A blog I tend to do every year is an end of year blog and a mid-year blog where I look back through my Instagram and reminisce about the highs, the lows and some of my favourite shots of the year so far. As we head into August and get closer to the darker nights, the crisp cool air and the twinkling of frost on the ground, I thought it would be an excellent time to review 2019 thus far!

January

Sadly, 2019 didn’t get off to the best of starts. The second half of 2018 was slowly sliding into a pile of crap compared to the first half, it accumulated in one of the worst Christmases in living memory, and I had high hopes that 2019 would be a fresh, new, positive start. A reset. Well, that didn’t go to plan. My beautiful feline best friend Tammy sadly passed away after being my cat of over 21 years. I was absolutely heartbroken. She had gone rapidly downhill in December and only saw the first week of 2019 before moving on to a better life. I still miss her terribly. Tam was my cat, she hated everyone else but me! She’d greet me at the door, she’d sleep on the pillow next to me every night, and I dearly miss having my furry little hot waterbottle to fall asleep to every night. You were a massive part of this family and me for 21 years, a beautiful little thing.

While the passing of Tam was a tough one to take, at least the PhD was on track. With the deadline of June looming, I had worked hard over Christmas, and on the 11th of January after so much hard work, I finally had something tangible, a first completed draft of my thesis. This was a huge mental milestone in the PhD life, the first glimmer of hope that I might actually finish this mammoth piece of work. While I knew I had months of editing and rewriting to come, to finally have all those bits of work into one document is the official beginning of the end.

On a freezing January day, a nice change of pace and excitement from PhD life when I arrived at Altcar military training base to view some special forces Chinooks and other assets as they departed after a special forces exercise in the area. Huge shout out to Altcar for allowing me on base to photograph these awesome machines and crews!

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Wokkah!!!

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While I hate winter, I do love the crisp, clear nights for stargazing. This January we had some exceptional clear skies and a few ISS passes I managed to catch on camera!

 

February

Feb was a quiet month as I worked away on my PhD edits. The only notable things were spending some downtime outdoors in new landscapes and photographing such exceptional star-studded skies!

I spruced up some personal home décor with a lovely addition to the bedroom!

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New plant for the bedroom!

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Love my Bonsai!

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In Feb, I discovered a hidden gem of a nature reserve that was only a five-minute drive from my house. A super place for photography, wildlife (particular bird watching), with rivers, woods and wetlands to explore.

March:

March, well everything got a bit real. The end was finally in sight! My thesis was printed, bound and ready to hand in for submission.

My few words on International Women’s Day. It’s 2019, and you still get taxed on essential lady things, absolute fucking disgrace IMHO! A huge shout out as always to all my awesome, amazing, beautiful, dedicated female friends!

When life just likes to troll you. I was so close to getting 10k a month but was one ball away each time. Absolutely livid and I still am to this day!

March got a lot brighter when my yearly meet up with Han and Dan, or should i say Mr & Mrs Watson, came about!

It was also my first ever Escape room! Han and Dan being veteran escapees we absolutely smashed not one but two escape rooms! They are my new favourite thing, they’re so fun, and I think we absolutely nailed our teamwork!

It was all well and good surviving an escape room, but I’ve not known fear like getting the viva date confirmed. D-Day now had a date, a very very near date! The day every PhD student dreads the final battle, the 3 hours where you either fail or succeed. The battle of the Viva loomed.

To take the fear of the viva away, I was still spending my downtime out in the countryside photographing nature at it’s best. This is one of my favourite pictures taken this year, I love the road leading you down to the lake and the gloomy storm approaching in the background. I felt as the viva loomed that I was walking that path towards the impending storm!

Best mothers day card, ever.

April:

Mark, my awesome cousin from Canada, popped in for his first visit to the UK and Liverpool after a European business trip! So great to spend the day with him showing him around this beautiful city and keeping those close family ties across the pond. Just a shame Liverpool decided to give him a welcome of torrential rain and wind! Hope to see you again Mark and thanks once again for taking the time to come visit!

My favourite shot of the year!

However, all things must come to an end, and I had my final day pre-viva in the office, a building that had been such a huge part of my life for the past 2 and a bit years.

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A lovely last day in the office today before my viva next week. Time to leave the comfort of H105 and have one final epic battle. V-Day fast approaches! Just under 3 years worth of hard work, 250,000 words, stress, imposter syndrome and over coming numerous failures and an unhealthy amount of coffee all comes down to a 3 hour viva where i have to defend every word and every decision made in those years to a panel of experts. PhD or no PhD all rests on that. The PhD has been the most intellectually and emotionally challenging thing i have ever done, it's been one epic journey that's made me grow as a person more than i ever have. I've made friends for life who without them life and the PhD would have been so much worse! I've been fortunate to travel to new countries and new cities and I've ticked off my life long goal of getting a CAA approved pilots licence ( i know it's no PPL!). PhDs are not about how clever you are, they're about how resilient you are and how stubborn you are to not give up when you're in a research world where it keeps knocking you down and you have to keep getting back up. A journey i hope next week i can end on a high otherwise it's been for absolutly nothing 🤣1st of September 2016 i started this journey to get the highest academic award possible. I set myself the stupid personal goal of finishing my PhD under 3 years and before my 27th birthday because no one sets more unattainable goals than my stupid brain. Now I'm days away from it all coming together. I want to do but i also don't because the viva if it goes well is the end. The end of the PhD, the end of my long life as a student. An end to an identity I've had for so long and is a part of me, i always want to learn and achieve more. It's also most likely the end of me in academia as I've made the decision that I'm unlikely to pursue a career in it. Forget the avengers, this is my end game! No pressure. In the words of Leeroy Jenkins, "Alright. Lets do this!" . . #PhDchat

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The battle of the viva was brutal, difficult, challenging, but ultimately rewarding! After just over two and a half years after starting the PhD, I had survived! I had made it to the end, the end game of being Dr Cliffe had been achieved! April 24th, 2019. What a day!!

May:

I may well now be a Doctor, but that didn’t earn me any more respect from my family, as evident by my birthday wrapping paper.

This badge was a fun joke given to me by my sister, but I was so unbelievably proud to wear it! Fun fact, the head of the Doctoral Academy loved it so much that they put an order in for them, so all new Drs will get one! A lovely little legacy!

Each weekend me and Ro would go an explore new places to visit and walk and we stumbled across another little local nature reserve. It was quaint!

I was given three months to do my post viva corrections to my thesis, but I completed them in 3 weeks. It felt so good but also sad to finally finish!

I discovered a Llama/Alpaca in my coffee cup! Little did I know in a few weeks I’d be surprised by my family to go walking with them in the lake district!

May saw me heading down to RAF Duxford to watch some preparations for the 75th D-Day anniversary. A brilliant event, so many Daks on the ground and plenty of warbirds!

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Ready for D-Day anniversary para drops

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June:

Well, June started with a win, a massive win! 6 times, baby! European Champions!!!

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Yaaaaaas!!!! #LFC

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The PhD was officially confirmed and approved. I had finally done it!

Visiting the Philharmonic is always special, but listening to John William scores of Speilberg films was another level!

In June, one of my favourite night time phenomenons occurs. The rare Noctilucent cloud formations! Formed a few weeks either side of the summer solstice, sunlight below the horizon lights up ice crystals high in the atmosphere turning night time into daylight. It’s an exceptional sight to see, I was lucky to have a few days of it, but this particular night it lasted for hours and was such a strong showing of them!

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I travelled down South to just North of London to go to one of my all-time favourite humans and one of my closest and dearest friends wedding, Chloe’s! I also had to screenshot my Insta story of that day, which sums it all up!!

chloe

From one end of the country to the other! I was back in the Lake District, one of my favourite places in the UK! Spending a few days away with the family was a perfect little getaway and something we haven’t done together for so long!

I was surprised by my family with a two-hour walk with Alpacas. BEST DAY EVER!

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What a day! Alpaca walking ❤

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Nice few days away with the fam

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July:

Graduation day arrived!!

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Time to graduate!

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Graduation photos have arrived!

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Mission Accomplished!

This family are awesome!

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Great afternoon with the fam!

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A week on from officially becoming Dr Cliffe, I went and passed my driving test after only 18 hours of driving! Yaaaas! Some people thought this day would never come but just shows you when I set my mind to something, it gets done!

So far *touches wood* 2019 has been a good year and I’m excited for what lies ahead for the latter half of the year! Where will the adventure take me?!

 

 

 

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