From Windy Hill to Sincil Bank.

Sport has always been part of my life, though the shape of that connection has changed over time.

As a kid, my uncle played for our local soccer team. He even helped coach, I think. I’d tag along to matches when I could. For a while, I trained with one of the junior teams, but circumstances beyond my control meant I couldn’t continue. Slowly, my interest in soccer faded.

But football - Aussie Rules - was different. I fell in love with it around the age of five. I chose Essendon, the Bombers - my uncle and aunt’s team - as my own, and sometimes he’d take me to matches. Those outings were wonderful, and they’ve stayed with me. Years later, I bought a season membership and went to every home game for a few seasons. It was a ritual, a rhythm.

Eventually, though, commitments made it difficult to attend. AFL games are long, and the travel to and from the stadium made each match a five-hour affair. It became harder to justify, even though the love never left.

I visited Lincoln a few years before I moved here, and went to a local derby. It was cold and damp, and about 1,500 people turned up to watch a draw. I enjoyed it, but the mood was subdued - the kind of grey afternoon that leaves its mark long after the final whistle.

After relocating to the UK, I started following Lincoln City more seriously. I read match reports, kept up with club news, and went to a few games. It turned out to be a good time to get involved — new managers arrived, the club reconnected with the city, and results began to improve. The energy shifted. Attendance grew. Optimism returned.

I didn’t have anyone to go with, but I started going anyway. At first occasionally, then more regularly. Last season I went to quite a few matches. This year, I splurged and bought a season ticket.

Lincoln is a small city, tucked among farmland and often overlooked. Getting here isn’t always straightforward, though the new direct trains to London help. It’s not a place people pass through — you come here on purpose. But that’s part of its charm — it’s a place with its own pace, its own pride. That distance also fosters a kind of fierce local pride. The football club is more than just a team; it’s a symbol of the city’s identity. The fans don’t just support Lincoln City — they defend it. There’s a territorial edge to the loyalty, a feeling that the club belongs to the people in a way that’s deeply personal.

Match day has its rituals. A sausage in a bun. A quiet ale. A chat with fellow fans. And then, inside the ground, something shifts. I become part of something larger. The chants, the songs, the shared celebrations - and, as I said, football here is deeply tribal. It's us against them, the home fans against the visiting fans. It’s not just about the game; it’s also about belonging.

There’s something else, too — something oddly poetic. Lincolnshire is known as Bomber County, a legacy of the many RAF bomber squadrons based here during the Second World War. Lincoln itself is closely tied to that history, especially the legendary 617 Squadron - the Dambusters. On match day, that legacy comes alive. When Lincoln score, fans stretch out their arms like Lancaster bombers and sing the Dambusters theme. For corners, they wind up an air raid siren. The ultras call themselves the 617, and the stand bears a mural of bombers in flight, along with the slogan “After me, the deluge” - in both English and French.

It’s tribal, yes — but it’s also mythic.

And strangely, it echoes my other footballing love. Back in Melbourne, my Essendon Bombers also play the sound of aircraft engines and an air raid siren before matches. It’s theatrical, stirring, and deeply rooted in identity. Two cities, two sports, two teams - half a world apart, both shaped by aviation history, both rallying behind teams associated with Bombers. It’s a coincidence, but one that feels meaningful — like a thread running through my sporting life, tying together past and present, Australia and England, memory and belonging.

I still love my AFL, my beloved Essendon Bombers. That will never change. I stream as many Essendon matches as I can. But there’s something irreplaceable about live sport - about watching two teams battle it out, surrounded by people who care just as much as you do. It’s a connection to the city, to the crowd, to something bigger than yourself — and to the person you’ve always been, shaped by sport, place, and the people who shared it with you.

The Ferry, the Frames, and the Flavours

Last weekend, we took the ferry from Hull to Rotterdam, and then a bus on to Amsterdam. 

There’s something quietly calming about travelling by sea - no airport queues, no anxious crowding, just the slow churn of water. We arrived in Amsterdam with minimal plans, just a shared sense that we’d walk, look, listen, and eat well.

We visited the Van Gogh Museum. I’ve always enjoyed Van Gogh – at least the bits I’ve seen. But too often, his art disappears behind the myth - the tortured genius, the ear, the sunflowers. But standing in front of his work, you see his efforts to hold his world together with brushstrokes. The colours vibrate. The skies swirl. It’s not all madness - it’s effort.

MoCo was a surprise. Banksy, Basquiat, and Robbie Williams – now that was one I didn’t expect. I’m not a fan of the person, but I loved his artwork. A small museum with a large impact. A sense that art doesn’t need to whisper to be profound.

We visited the Anne Frank House. It’s hard to write about that experience without sounding trite or overly solemn. The space is small, but the silence inside is vast. You feel it in your chest. The creak of the floorboards, the pencilled growth chart on the wall, the photos of movie stars Anne admired - it’s all heartbreakingly ordinary. And that’s the point. An incredibly emotional experience.

I went vinyl hunting, of course. Amsterdam’s record shops are tucked into corners like secrets. I found a few gems—some Stones, some Beatles, and a Dutch pressing of a Dutch band.

And then there was the food. Indonesian at Blauw. Rich, fragrant, layered. The kind of meal that makes you pause mid-bite just to appreciate how all the flavours are talking to each other. We didn’t rush, and neither did they. We let the evening stretch.

It was a short trip, but it felt full. Not just of places and things, but of moments. The kind you don’t photograph because they’re too quiet, too personal. A glance across the table. A shared laugh in a museum gift shop. The ferry ride home was smooth. We watched the sea and said very little.

Sometimes, that's the best kind of travel.

Making Headway.

I’ve mentioned my writing projects before - though I’m keeping them private for now. They’ve finally started making real headway, which is exciting after working on them, on and off, for quite some time. There were stretches that felt heavy, like a weight I couldn’t quite shift. But I pushed through, and now I’m about where I hoped to be.

I’d planned to reach this point about a year ago, but the project grew - became more expansive than I’d imagined. That’s the nature of creative work, I suppose. It unfolds in its own time.

Soon comes the part I’ve been longing for: the enjoyable stages. They’ll take time, but I know I’ll love every moment.

Unusually for me, I’ve been handwriting these stories. It’s surprising how many people find it difficult to write by hand for any length of time. With computers and screens everywhere, we’re all out of practice. But my handwriting has improved, and so has my stamina. These days, I can fill page after page with little effort or with my hand cramping.

I do get through pens and notebooks, but the tale is really coming together. And you never know — one day, it might even be seen by others.

When the Universe Affirms.

I worked the gate of a small event recently.  For about two and a half hours, a friend and I collected entrance money from cars, and showed them where to park. It was the last part of the day, so it was, for the most part fairly quiet.

As such, we spent much of the time chatting about quite a few things. And some of these were very exact and specific. Not politics, music, books or film. Nothing common or popular. In fact, I could give you several hundred guesses and you would be very unlikely to name these topics.

And yet on three separate occasions during the afternoon, someone leaving or arriving to the event stopped to say hello, and mentioned the very thing we had just finished talking about. I mean within minutes.

We were in a large field, with no one around us except the odd squirrel, but these people were apparently tuned into our conversation. It was completely bizarre, and yet it felt right. It felt like we were receiving confirmation from the universe that the conclusions we were drawing were correct, accurate and appropriate.

I am constantly amazed by these synchronistic moments.  They seem to be happening more and more, and in more and more unlikely ways.

I feel like I am more in tune these days, that I am more aware of these moments, and am possible looking for them.

Or, perhaps, someone or something is stalking me and setting me up. Those pesky squirrels!

The Year of Everything?

It has been a weird year, thus far, so I decided to check the Chinese calendar. It is currently the year of the snake which is supposed to be a year of wisdom, growth and creativity. And yet there seems to be so much turmoil around.

Even close to home, the University which employs me continues to undertake staff cuts and restructures. A lot of people are worried and stressed. Fortunately, my position has been declared safe, thus far, but I have seen long-term colleagues leave, both by choice and through forced redundancy.  I think that most of those who left by choice would not have done so if they hadn’t foreseen the threat of their redundancy on the ever-nearing horizon.

But it has created anxiety, stress, and moments of lower morale. That is, of course, only to be expected.  I’d like to think I’ve handled it reasonably well, but it will always have some effect on us.

I read the Chinese Horoscope a little further, and while it does indeed say that this is a year of wisdom, growth and creativity, it also states that it is a year of transformation, renewal and long-term planning. Hopefully, after that, is the time for the other aspects; reflection, strategy, resilience, intuition, growth and creativity.

Ah, the Chinese sure have all bases covered this year!

Underneath the Radar.

I've just spent two weeks back in Australia. A short trip, just to visit and spend time with family. Only my my siblings and my best friend knew in advance.  I truly wanted to surprise my mum and a few other people, and it worked - the plans didn't leak.

It was great spending time with Mum and Dad, sitting with them and chatting to dad - even hearing a few old stories for the first time. I think there was only one day where I didn't go and sit with him, mostly because I had a lingering cough from the dry flight and Mum was a little worried for him.

I caught up with some close friends, getting up to speed on news and having a lot of laughs. I even managed to visit the school where I taught - a few friends left, but after 9 years away so many have moved on. It was great to see the place, and to hear of what they're doing. A good place with a good culture, but it was also good to reaffirm I no longer belong there.

My best friend and I spent a whole day together - again, laughing, telling tales, having lunch and just enjoying each other's company. We fell back into our easy, comfortable conversation - personal, philosophical, and everything in between. Such a wonderful day.

And then suddenly, it was time to return home. A bittersweet trip, of course, but all very positive.

I apologise to others I couldn't visit - there was no real time and I had consciously decided not to run myself ragged. Hopefully next time.

Instant Karma?

In 1970, John Lennon recorded and released the single Instant Karma. John based the song on speculating how we would live if karma was immediate rather than across lifetimes.  In keeping with the concept, John wrote, recorded and released the song within a ten day period.

Karma is generally viewed to occur over several, or even many lifetimes, but from my limited understanding, this is a simplistic view.  Karma simply means 'action', and as we know, actions have consequences, which could be across lifetimes, or maybe more quickly than that.

During the past six months I have seen three different people, in three different situations, all have "karma" return on them. Some might simply call it comeuppance, and some would suggest, if they new their earlier actions, that it was just. In each situation there was an obvious correlation between the types of their behaviour and the situations they later found themselves in.  And in each situation they were visibly upset and complained loudly about what had occurred to them.

I take no delight in this. And I'm not saying that the Hindu or Buddhist concept of karma was at play here. I just hope that living your life in a positive way, with integrity, results in positive karma.

Hopefully instant.