High hopes

The low tenor of ewes calling their lambs, a modest wind section of cuckoo and the busy notes of skylark ‘sans rigeur,’ provided the backing music to my daily moorland walk. 

It’s always different. 

Distant voices carried across the valley. The usually bleak and twisted hawthorn bushes wore a shock of white blossom. A yellow caterpillar marched through closely grazed grass, nearly ready to complete its metamorphosis. 

Four large white ponies stood, statuesque, swishing their tails whilst a rodeo of dark, shining stallions whinnied and bucked, biting and kicking at one another before circling in an extended trot as if under the expert control of an unseen rider.

Life, it seemed, was practically bursting at the seams. 

Nature always has a way of showing off when one’s own vitality is under threat. 

I can’t complain. It’s nearly seven years since a terminal diagnosis reminded me of my mortality. I too had relished in the pride of life, half-expecting never to fall.

And I have arguably learned more in the valleys of life’s experiences, than on the high summer gallops: gratitude, to take things day by day, taking nothing for granted; to face my faults and the sins of my youth and to make peace with God. 

But, for heaven’s sake, I’m not immune to it all. 

My brother had hoped to live long enough to see this day: 

Our beloved West Ham United in a European final after more than forty years in the footballing wilderness. But perhaps a weight of greater glory pressed upon his fleshly existence.

Our captain, Declan Rice, will play what is likely to be his last game for the club. A thoroughbred in attack and a workhorse in defence. 

Searching for some inspiration I turned to the bible verse of the day. 

It read as follows:

‘David shepherded them with integrity of heart; with skillful hands he led them.’

—Psalm 78 v72

To the manager of this great club, David Moyes, I say- “I hope you are reading the script.”

“West Ham are massive everywhere we go!” is the ditty I hope to sing later today, but no matter what the outcome, I shall give a hearty rendition of the club song:

“Fortune’s always hiding,

I’ve looked everywhere, 

I’m forever blowing bubbles,

Pretty bubbles in the air.”

update: We only went and won it! This one’s for you bruv!