Tag Archives: Brighton

Brighton football, Montpelier Villa Women FC, Skip Kelly, Women's football

Skip Kelly on Montpelier Villas Women FC

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Pre-season is my favourite time of the year. It’s all about getting players ready for the season ahead which means I can plan substitutions in advance knowing that the result has no consequence. All results are treated with a healthy dollop of skepticism because of the simple fact that it is pre-season. 

Last season, one of the earliest talks I had with a player was because they were worried about relegation. A week later I was having a conversation with another player who said their dream was to play at Wembley in an FA Cup final and waxed lyrical about how at that moment it was a possibility for us. During pre-season there are no such conversations but once league points or a place in the next round is at stake, it drives everyone mad and ultimately out of control.

‘Control the controllables’ is advice I repeatedly encounter and although it’s straightforward, I keep coming back to it. My mind is often racing with how to allocate tickets fairly if we did reach the FA Cup final or how I would keep players motivated through a relegation battle. 

 There’s a lot to worry about every season but arguably this season more than most. This will be my sixth season and I have announced to the squad it will be my last which naturally begs the question how will it all end? With silverware and plaudits like Alex Ferguson or an awkward and acrimonious like Arsene Wenger? Another one of those uncontrollables. 

This time next season, the team will be preparing for life in a new stadium with a new coach and hopefully will mark the beginning of a new successful era whereas I will be getting to grips with fatherhood. 

It’s always been a privilege to be responsible for a football team or a class in my actual job but the reality of being entirely responsible for an individual is both terrifying and exciting. 

There are countless stories of pushy parents being justified in their seemingly insane methods by the vast riches and glory that only sport offers and I can’t help but feel if we get a good start then there’s no reason that Skip Junior can’t be the person to lead Ireland to World Cup glory. 

Equally, I’m now more acutely aware of how parents can be disappointed by their offspring and I’m struck with the fear of Skip Junior being one of the greatest footballers in the world eclipsing Maradona, Messi and Ronaldo with billions of people imitating their skills on the pitch, copying their hairstyle and buying their shirt but then ruining it all in the eyes of their father by choosing to play for England. 

I have enjoyed asking current parents for advice which has ranged from ‘get sleep while you can’ to ‘don’t be afraid to say no’ but my favourite has been from the person who said people are very quick to tell you all the bad things but they never tell you how much joy they will bring you. 

Part of the reason I became the coach of Montpelier Villa was because I wanted my prospective children to have no barriers to playing football. I have never drunk alcohol because I was exposed to the effects of alcohol dependency at an impressionable age and didn’t want my prospective children to experience the same. 

Neither of these things will make me a better father and there are far more virtuous people than me out there but I share this with you to give an insight into the level of preparation I feel I have done. 

The child is due in January and by that time we are likely to know how well we have done in the FA Cup and if Wembley remains a possibility, we will know roughly where we are going to finish in the league. If the previous five seasons are anything to go by, we will win matches we shouldn’t win, lose matches we shouldn’t lose, players will get injured, and players will surprise themselves by surpassing their own expectations. 

At the moment, I feel calm and in control but my mind is racing with everything that we’re going to face in the season ahead. 

Gull About Town, Uncategorized

Gull About Town – Sept 2024

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Brighton in the summer is a time of plenty for your favourite scavengers. Tourists, blinded by the city’s light, can barely keep a grip on their picnics and barbecues as they stagger to the beach, and we see it as our job to help out. While the cafes spill onto the streets and fairy-lit restaurants stay up late, we provide a round the clock rubbish collection service. You’re most welcome.

But for a discerning bird like Yours Truly, it’s a time to sort the good from the bad, tapping on the windows of our favourite kitchens to check in on where they get their fish, meat and dairy. Regular readers of The Gull About Town will know that if there’s a sniff of a factory about the chicken or a heavy carbon hoofprint attached to the beef, she’ll turn her beak in horror. But her bird’s eye view over the city can reveal enough good news food stories to smooth even the most ruffled of feathers.

Swooping first to Time Out favourite, Halisco your gull spots an interesting exchange over the back fence between owner Ali and his next-door neighbour chef at Kanok Thai. 

One of the bird-loving brothers who have made this little Mexican one of the grooviest eateries in Preston Street, Ali always saves a delicious bite at the end of the evening at both this and his global fusion restaurant, Anakuma opposite. It seems that his Thai neighbours regularly go fishing off Brighton and happily share their freshly caught mackerel, bass and bream with him. The sea bream and grapefruit ceviche is as a fresh as a gull could wish for.

#Bemoregull is a mantra worth squawking when eyeing the menus at Brighton’s more exciting restaurants. Just as we catch local, seasonal fish from plentiful stocks, so do the best chefs in town. The word on the wing that you’re looking for when asking your waiter in better restaurants such as Petit Pois on Ship Street where their fish comes from, is BNFS – Brighton and Newhaven Fish Sales. Only the fisherchefs at Kanok Thai can compete.

You only need to look at the gang of gulls hanging around Barfields butchers on Ditchling Road on a Saturday morning to see where Brighton foodies choose to buy their meat. And it’s a feather in the cap of any good chef in town to get their meat here. A good butcher, as any gull will tell you, is the gatekeeper to quality meat, and if your chef doesn’t know who he is, that’s worth a proper peck. 

Palmito is at the head of the queue in brownie points on this one; hop over to the Climate Café column to find out more on this fine little diner which made it, along with small plates favourite, Med and Hove’s Fourth and Church to The Good Food Guide’s 100 Best Local Restaurants in the UK.

Brighton Life, Climate cafe, Diego Alejandro Ricuarte, Palmito

Climate Cafe – Palmito

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Climate change can feel like an overwhelmingly difficult issue, something just too big for people like you and me to do anything meaningful about. But Global CEO of Compassion in World Farming, Philip Lymbery reminds us that we have an opportunity three times every single day to make a real difference. And that’s about what we eat. 

Eating locally, seasonally, supporting the farmers who grow and the chefs who source responsibly, eating less but better meat – if eating meat at all – eating real food not ultra-processed and adding more plants to your plate not only reduces the carbon footprint of your food bill but makes us healthier too. And that takes the weight off the NHS, which is already buckling under the burden of diet-related diseases. 

And where we eat makes a difference too. Diego Alejandro Ricuarte is the founder of Palmito, the Brighton favourite where classic street food dishes from Colombia, Mexico and Ecuador come with an affordable price tag and an ethical halo.

“Our butcher is Will Pountney at Barfields who mostly deals with local sourced meat. We know the farmers he works with, but we also buy from our own favourites; we get whole lambs from Rosie Martin at Nuthurst Farm, and goats from Ed Brown at Clapham Farm whose whole family believes in creating more sustainable local food systems. 

“Rare breed Middle White Pigs are always on the menu at Palmito and I’ve been getting them from Richard Vaughan at Hunstham Farm in the Wye Valley. The farm has been in the family for 400 years and they have a small team devoted to the pigs to make sure that they are reared and fattened really slowly.

“We have been working directly with Sophie Bullacher who has her own market garden – you can follow her on Instagram @pitfield.veg. She delivers some of our vegetables directly from her land every Wednesday, and we really love the way she thinks about the food she grows. She studied craft and design at Brighton University, but she quickly realised how wasteful the big budget jobs she was getting were. She leads a really sustainable low impact way of life herself, and so she decided to start growing vegetables for cool restaurants like Palmito! It’s a lovely story.

“The other vegetables and dairy we source from
Shrub.London (www.shrub.london) which is a brilliant hub for over 45 ethical farms, but gives restaurants next day delivery, which is important. Our mushrooms and wild food come from Chris Amys the forager who has a workshop at Stammer Park.

“It is still a work in progress. To be able to work directly with the growers and producers has been a challenge, but we want our diners to see how hard we try to source well, support good farming, and still be able to be competitive. We want our cooks to be directly involved with the food they cook and to know where things come from.

 “What I eat at home is what I cook at the venue. Like today, it is my day off and I just go visit growers and get to know them more. Just like other people care about a brand of shoes and know everything about them, I like to know what I put in my mouth. I am in awe with people who grow food, and by using local producers I have been welcomed into their land. I win from that on a personal level because I realise that we share the same values and we choose those values over profit. 

“What really makes me happy is that all my suppliers come to Palmito every week. They know my staff by name and vice versa. They have a chat and they get excited about the produce. Therein lies our philosophy. Grow food, know food, grow community. When the young cooks I employ know what it takes to grow those products and they can put a face to them, then they are more careful about food in general. It works for us.”

l Palmito: 16 Western Rd, Hove BN3 1AE

01273 777588

www. https://www.palmito.co.uk/

Corinne Sweet, Growing Old(er) Disgracefully

Corinne Sweet – Growing Old(er) Disgracefully – Sept 2024

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“Oooh, look at those amazing blue eyes”.

My dear friend Suzi has come to see me ensconsed in my new West Hill abode and we are sitting side-by-side over tea on my sofa, swiping left and right.

“I like his coat”, she says breathlessly, “There’s definitely something about him”.

Gingerly she swipes right. We move on to the next pic.

Suzi lost her husband a couple of years ago and is desperately trying to get ‘out there’ again. However, lonely nights, no cuddles, and no welcome home, are weighing heavily on her.

So here we are on social media trying to find a mate. Not unusual, you think? Well, no. Except this is no ordinary ‘Tinder’ – it’s what I call ‘Cat Tinder’.

We are deep in Worthing’s Cat Welfare Trust’s website, desperately seeking a furry companion for my bereaved friend. We are amazed – and somewhat bemused – by the Tinder-like menu for choosing a homeless puss.

‘Oh, he’s gorgeous”, purrs my friend over a fluffy mog, “I’d definitely like him to cuddle up to me on my bed.”

As a shameless cat lover myself, I know, first-hand, the benefits of being owned by a gorgeous furry monster. When I moved south in darkest December my dear boy, Woolf, plonked himself on me, rubbed noses and reassured me all would be well.

When I return late at night after my weekly work commute to London he deftly drops off the garden wall with a loud, ‘Meow, where have you been? I want my supper, and a cuddle, you’re late!’ We slink in together, and I’m home.

Indeed, the research in the 2022 Cat Protection League survey of 10,000 cat owners (“Cats & Their Stats) found positive psychological and physical benefits from cat ownership.

67% of people interviewed said their cats gave them something to get up for in the morning and 21% said their cats helped them feel less stressed. 

WAY (Widowed and Young) for people whose partners have died aerly agree cats can help mental health, particularly when we’re grieving.

Stroking cats is well-known for lowering blood-pressure in owners. Plus, there is benefit in talking to your cat about your own woes. Play makes everyone smile.

I remember being sad myself and when I cried prone on the sofa, Woolf would jump on my chest and purr nose-to-nose to me with cat empathy.

Cat vocalisations (mews, purrs, chirps, in differing tones) are how cats bond with their owners. They only ‘meow’ to those they care about (although it’s more likely they’re demanding food, attention, play, in that order).

Suzi is teetering on the brink. ‘I don’t know if I could bear to lose him’, she says wistfully. ‘What if something happened to me?’

‘Well,’ I say, looking around for an alert lurking Woolf, hoping he’s out of ear shot, ‘I could always have him.’ Woolf had had a little sister, Frida, who’d died too soon and broke my heart. “There’s always room for two…”

“Hmm”, Suzi ponders, glancing at her phone. ‘Oooh, he’s nice’. I watch her peruse fabulously tiger markings and emerald eyes. I sense another solo soul is becoming a lost cause. “I might just give them a ring..I’ve got all the cat stuff in the loft”. 

I know when best to keep quiet. I stroke a prone Woolfy stretched on my lap, purring like a well-oiled motor, and just smile.

Growing Old(er) Disgracefully by 

Corinne Sweet

Psychotherapist, writer, broadcaster 

http://www.corinnesweet.com

Microdosing, psilocybin, Psychedelics

The secret diary of a microdoser #2

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My psychiatrist looks straight at me. His body completely still, his eyes piercing with total concentration. I précis the last hour, “So, basically, I’ve given up drinking and taken up mushrooms and DMT…” And his answer?… “Great!”… Seriously. Hand on heart. I shit you not. He closes his notebook, wrapping up the session and repeats, “Great.”… If ever I needed validation, that was the moment. I could have kissed him.

I float out to his reception desk and am less bothered by his astronomical fees than usual. I wave a plastic card over a plastic box to make a plastic sound. I ponder whether that “friendly” beep has been acoustically engineered to hide the laugh of bankers. But I shrug it off. Sometimes you get fleeced. Sometimes it’s worth it.

I didn’t get the chance for him to expand on why he thought psychedelics were better for me than alcohol. But do I need to? Who am I kidding? How many trippers do you meet in A&E on a Saturday night, nursing their smashed up heads or broken arms? Zero. Zip. Nadda.

Booze was just the best thing we could come up with at the time. Liquid bread. Goes well with a fag. Something to throw in the air when England score a goal… The thing is that the world isn’t that simple anymore. The world has changed, and our needs have changed with it. And it’s not going back because reversing isn’t an option offered by its gear box. It can only travel in one direction. 

Evolution is a journey towards complexity. It is inexorable. Relentless. It started with simple cell division and it ends with?… Well, I guess that’s the million dollar question… Telepathy? Teleporting? Inter-dimensional travel? Perhaps we become the gods. Wherever we’re going, whether you lubricate the wheels with psychedelics or not, it will undoubtedly blow our minds.

Often when I dose on psilocybin, I think of a coral reef in The Red Sea called Ras Mohammed. The metaphor is as simple as it is beautiful. A giant figure of Mohammed is standing with his feet planted on the Earth’s core, and the top of his head (specifically his scalp or “Ras”, the most spiritual part of the brain according to Islamic scriptures, being “closest to God”) is a huge coral reef, bursting with life and exploding with colour. 

But you don’t need to have scuba-dived off the Sinai Peninsula and witnessed the intricacy and symbiosis of a coral reef to bathe in the beauty of natural psychedelia. You can experience the same complexity and harmony by walking through the stunning woods and countryside that surround our city. You only need to open your eyes a little wider and study a leaf whose veins divide and divide again until you enter the mesh of its photosynthesising cells. Follow the light that refracts through a droplet of dew on a bed of moss; marvel at its suspension in space and time by the perfection of surface tension; allow your mind to bend with its lens. Enable your senses to reach into the roots of a vine winding round its host with will and intent, and grasp its strength, yoke its power. 

What I’m trying to say is that, if you dive into the detail and increase your true connection with nature, you will find your nirvana. In a world where our food is sterilised in cylinders of tin, wrapped in plastic or presented in polystyrene, (none of which exist in the natural world), we are often barred from quenching our thirst for spiritual grounding. Earthing is not a paradox, it is a human requirement. Whether you believe in the ionic exchange between your body and the Earth’s magnetism, whether you consciously bridge that gap with psychedelics or you’ve developed your own method, modern society’s hellbent determination to contain us with concrete, cover us with plastic and encase us with metal, leads to a schism with the natural environment and that … makes … you … sad… Why? Well, this is the hilarious secret. Hilarious, because it’s so obvious: You Are Nature. 

Nature is not something separate to you. You are not simply the Observer. Nature is not something you only watch on TV. Yes, it is out there, sure, but it is also within. It is You. It is Me. It exists in each and every exchange of our breath. In our beauty. In our faults and mistakes. In our skills and talents. In our empathy. In our senses, our thoughts, our beliefs and our emotions. In our smiles. In our tears. Even in our dreams… If you can’t see that, at our finest, we are the coral reef, then maybe it’s time to take off your mask. 

With love. 

Ray, Brighton, 2024

Editor’s note: The Whistler does not condone Ray’s opinions. We chose to publish this as we know there are many microdosers in the city. But remember, what works for Ray may not work for anyone else.