Dream Come True...

Blowing my own trumpet is something that, recently, I’ve tried not to do.

This is an exception. A big one.

Last night I was the scorer of my best ever goal, and probably Monday Night Football’s best ever to boot, scored against the best Monday night goalkeeper there is.

With about 15 minutes gone I saw the keeper off his line and a plan formulated in my brain. As the ball came to me (inside my own half) I used my first touch to flick it over someone’s head (with my right boot), and with the second touch used my left boot to volley the ball over the retreating goalkeeper and into the far corner of the goal. “Perfection” may have been used by an opposing team member to describe it.

This is one moment that I wanted to blog about before my wife beats me to it.

The memory makes me smile.

This is how it happened. The yellow line represents the movement of the ball, the blue dot is me and the red dot is the opposition. You first see me MASH UP a red by flicking the ball over his head, then you see me loop the ball over the hapless keeper!

Still Hanging in There...

I noticed today that not one single post in the month of October had been made... which is understandable given wedding plans, honeymoon breaks and getting back into the swing of life. It's been a heck of a month, a life changing one, one might be so bold to say.

The highlight of the month was clearly getting married. Sorry ladies, it's true and most definitely happened. P-Brow is off the market! But I want to be able to devote more time than this to that. It's an event which requires more than just a stop-gap and a mark in the October posting-checklist.

I guess, when all is said and done and I need a quick post to keep the 'at least one per month' dream of dreams alive, football is a fairly safe place to return to. As a married man, I'm yet to kick a football yet, mainly due to a recurrence in a shoulder injury. A bizarre one this time though, with no obvious starting-of-pain point and it fluctuating between agonising and non-existent on a day to day basis.

This reduces my posting possibilities further, to commenting on others playing the game I so love. Talking of the game and love... my wife is amazing! On honeymoon, she not only allowed, but positively encouraged me to go and watch the England v Belarus match as well as watching match of the day with me, a highlights show of the top soccer games played over the weekend.

My notice this week is the consistencies between the English and Spanish champions of the past few years... they are as follows:

Spanish

2000/01 Real Madrid
2001/02 Valencia
2002/03 Real Madrid
2003/04 Valencia
2004/05 Barcelona
2005/06 Barcelona
2006/07 Real Madrid
2007/08 Real Madrid


English

2000/01 Manchester United
2001/02 Arsenal
2002/03 Manchester United
2003/04 Arsenal
2004/05 Chelsea
2005/06 Chelsea
2006/07 Manchester United
2007/08 Manchester United


It amuses me that Man U and Real Madrid have won in the same seasons, as have Valencia and Arsenal, and Chelsea and Barcelona. Uncanny.

I doubt very much that this bears any interest at all to anyone who reads this- but a) it's an observation that I am pleased with, and b) it means that I'm 1-0 for October, which is a relief to you all.

Sympathy Vote...

I am beginning to realise (and, in truth, have known this for a while) that people simply have no sympathy for me. Ever.

There are some exceptions to this rule, such as having a fire in my bedroom and having operations on my shoulder, but it usually takes something of a pretty extreme proportion for me to get any excuse. This is why I think this is the case (and please remember, these are only from the past week!):

- I currently have a stupid cold. Rather than getting the bed rest I needed last night, I decided I'd prefer to represent my 5 a side soccer team. Yes, I kicked butt fo sho. Yes, I scored 5 goals in the first game I have played in 5 months due to operations and fire and ensured we won for the first time in 5 games. BUT, the big "yes" is that I feel 10 times worse for all my efforts. I don't even expect sympathy for that one.

- At recent bachelor parties, knowing that mine was fast approaching, I have endeavoured to hand out severe punishment and generally batter my close friends until they are black and blue (both friends still had enormous bruises come their actual weddings!). Therefore when mine actually comes and we play football for 4 hours and people rugby tackle, punch and kick me whenever I have the ball, sympathy does not even enter the equation. Even when Glendal face plants me into the ground, not one tear is shed. Luckily no lesson needs to be learnt, as my turn is over and done with!

Will I ever learn these lessons? I don't think I will. Elizabeth now faces a tough task in looking after me. For the rest of her life. Ha HAAA!

Babies Galore...

There is, currently, a huge baby boom going on at Church... it's ridiculous! Something like 15 babies will be born this year, and plenty more are due for next year! One of my Groomsmen has recently had one (moreover, his wife has) and another Groomsman's' wife is pregnant and due late November!


This excites me a lot. Firstly, I love children (on a Sunday morning I rarely talk to adults because of herds of children that I find myself being stupid with). I have some quality banter with a 7 year old who supports a rival soccer team; a 4 year old girl who is moving to Turkey this time next year regularly tells me that 'Phil' means 'Elephant' in Turkish; a 5 year old boy will punch me non-stop for as long as I'll let him for want of being turned upside down and carried around for a while. They are fun, have great energy levels, and are probably the most genuine people in the world!


Secondly, as I embark on the magnificent journey that is marriage, and look into baby planning etc on the Marriage Preparation Course, it's great to have close friends who are kind of a life stage ahead of you. One day I will be sucking all the kid rearing wisdom I can out of these folk!


Third... it means I can pretend I'm massive (which I am... see previous post) and take fun photo's like this:





Don't get me wrong here, I am not broody in any way. Right now (well, in 15 days time) Liz will be my family, and that's all I'm after and what I want. In fact, I hate kids. Leaving my parents to start up my own family will no doubt be tough- they are the most amazing people I have the honour of knowing- but I am very much looking forward to cleaving to and figuring out how to be family with Elizabeth Kate.

Disproportion...

I always thought that my hands and feet were of disproportionate size to my body... now I have science on my side to prove it.

Reading through an article recently ("Body-Based Units of Measurement: Size matters in more ways than one") I was pleased/ shocked to discover my disproportions! A cubit is supposed to be the length in between your elbow joint tot he tip of your middle finger, which for the average male is about 18 inches. Mine is a good 2 inches longer than that- an addition of 11%!!! For any bible readers, a lot of measurements (ie Noah's bible) will be in cubits, especially older versions.

I have always enjoyed being an anatomy geek (for example, my favourite muscle in the body is the Tibialis Anterior) and have always love small things about the make up of the human body, for example, your hand span (distance from your thumb tip to pinky tip when your hand is fully stretched) is the same length as your inner forearm. Your feet should also be the same length as this.

So, to my horror/ joy, my feet are another inch bigger than my hands, meaning that they are about 16% bigger than the average size for my height!!! So technically, this means that I should be about 6"7 and probably a superstar of the NBA.

Still, if that happened I probably wouldn't have met my wife to be (in 44 days!).

I've also greatly enjoyed finding out new and exciting ways to use Microsoft Excel (apart from the obvious ass-kicking formula's!). If you hold down "Alt" and press "Enter" then it allows to to go down a line within that cell, thus making it much better for presentation purposes.

This is a crazy world in which we live.

Olympic Fever Has Hit...

It's fast. It's furious. And it's here! The Olympic Games, held in China in 2008, have commenced! Not without well documented issues and controversies, but nonetheless, it's well and truly here. Typically, England have already won 0 medals to USA's 98, but this time is completely different for me... I have a legitimate claim to chant and cheer on our American hero's. I've not got my Green Card yet, but thanks to bagging me a blond-haired stunner of an American, I can celebrate sporting excellence!

It means the Olympics will never quite be the same for me. True, as long as triple-jumping, rowing and Paula Radcliffe are around, we have guaranteed gold medals (I mean, even I can jump a length that would qualify me for the women's triple-jump competition!), I will never really have the build up of one unheard athlete who has freakishly made it to a final and could hit the giddy heights of bronze. From here on out, only gold is good enough for me.

There is nothing quite like it when Great Britain have a chance of a medal- I really can't explain it. Whoever the competitor, in whatever the event; I scream and urge them on with all I have within me. Never again, I am now an elitist!

Still... this following video is immense. The first qualifying heat of the 100m men's freestyle; then Eric the Eel was born. I can't help but laugh, this was fro the 2000 Sydney Games. Quality.

P.S. I apologise that this is an Australian studio broad casted programme. Watching this live was one of the greatest moments of my sport-watching history. Please bear with the whole 4 minutes!

I'm No Lyre...

Liz has found out- post engagement, I hasten to add- that I have a real love for animal programs and animals (not so much measly domestic ones, but crazy wild ones!!). I have book on the subject (soon to be books, I hope) and will read it while in the bathroom- I'll often announce said duty done with a fascinating animal fact that bewilders and amazes! 

I feel that below is a certain animal who is most extraordinary, yet has surprisingly little coverage given its unexpected, yet sensational talent.

If I could be a bird, I probably would be this one, but still, this is ruddy brilliant!

Lyre Bird, take a bow...

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Wonderful. 

Cell Phone Fun...

Cell phones have many uses... phoning people; people phoning you; getting and receiving texts. These days you can even take still images and moving images on most phones and listen to music. But this video represents a clear favourite use of cell phones:

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Immense. I especially like that chinese people are getting excited.

Elvis...

I've just realised how much the word Levis looks like Elvis- could (and should) be the perfect advertising agent.

Anagramamaniarams!!! (Pronounced anagram-a-mania-ram)

Mother-In-Law and Levis Saved My Life...

Two neighbors were having a chat when one said, "I took my dog to the vet today because it bit my mother-in-law." The other asked, "Did you put it to sleep?" "No, of course not," said the first, "I had its teeth sharpened."

Traditionally, mother-in-laws are supposed to be the source of constant and ever increasing annoyance. My one-to-be decided to save my life, albeit unknowingly and with a little help from Levis Jeans.

At 5.20am a week and a half ago, I woke up to find my curtains on fire, which rapidly spread to my bed clothes, headboard and all the items behind my bed, as well as a multiplug socket. In a moment of madness/ genius I remembered seeing a Levis advert from yonder year which showed people putting out a fire by beating their jeans against it.

Mrs. Watkins had brought me over a few pairs of high quality jeans when she came to visit with Big Bob in February 2008. I raced over to my wardrobe and found an appropriate pair (ie, pulled out the first pair I found in a mega panic) and proceeded to beat it out using these real American jeans- sustaining minimal, yet very deep burns.

That is only the beginning of an epic story, but it’s all you need to know. This advertising genius, and my mother-in-law (nearly!) saved my life.

Mother-In-Law- I salute you.

Accents...

As engaged life progresses, God keeps reminding myself, and Liz keeps reminding me, or words that God has spoken over me about our relationship. The latest, crazy one of which I have been reminded by Liz and by God is that I would marry someone who has an accent that is very different from mine! I only remembered and told Liz this after I realised I was actually in love with her!!

It's good to know the Big Guy is looking out for me!

I Hate Me Right Now...

I’ve done it! I’ve managed to do the very thing that I have mocked engaged and married men for over and over. I’ve agreed to get married on the day that England play football. A World Cup Qualifying match.

My previous arguments/ torments of “who wears the trousers in that relationship” amongst other things, have now left me open jawed and with a horrible feeling in my stomach. I have long known that my love of Elizabeth far outweighs my love of football- still; I never thought I was capable of doing this!

Nonetheless, I’m left with the knowledge that however bad this situation is, it can never be as bad as my friend getting married on the day of big games for the English Football, Rugby AND Cricket teams!

I still hate me right now, though.

Such a Girl...

It has been brought to my attention in the last few days how much of a girl I am. (No offensive/ derogatory intentions present... I can assure.)

So apparently I, when referring to make-up (which is bad enough in the first instance), use terms that a girl would use- such as freshly applied! I don't know whether to be proud or disappointed in myself.

Then yesterday I find out that it's more of a Brown thing. This, I am not disappointed about. In my first post I mentioned how much admiration I have for my father, and there surely is no better man that I know. We are very similar (not meant as an arrogant building up of ones-self) when it comes to our emotions, and keeping them that way. As I called to discuss further the news of Elizabeth's job success, we both unashamedly admitted we both had to leave our desks to have a weep. Neither of us could contain our joy.

Like father like son? Certainly. And it's a fact that I'm proud of.

June...

June is, right now, my favourite of 2008.


June has brought genuine excitement to me in many forms already- and we’re only on the 5th day!

Firstly, Liz (my dream woman- I love making her feel uncomfortable when she reads these!) has just gotten her dream job. This was just the best news I could have had and made a great week turn into an excellent one. It has taken many a burden off of many parts of our shoulders. It was an answer to many people who were praying and fasting for us and in particular this job. I like things that make me so happy I can weep for joy (not cry!)… and this was definitely one of them!

But alternatively, and in my own blighted eyes just as exciting- the Euro’s are here! I’m not talking about the currency- which is getting ever stronger, incidentally- but the football tournament!

A month long of the 16 best teams in Europe (England didn’t make it) playing some of the best football I am ever likely to see. The first two weeks bring along with them two games a day. A day. So bored have I been at work, that the entire fixture list is now written in my diary, and my date nights planned around them! Players of such a high caliber that only the presence of Brazil and Argentina could make it a more attractive affair.

Not only that, but it brings back magical memories of 1996- when the same tournament was played in England, when my first real interest and passion for football was born. I made posters of our starting XI, banners for each game we played, mocked my Dutch teacher endlessly when we beat Holland 4-1… it was a magical time, and a time when England were genuine contenders to perform on the big stage.

Still, in the midst of this, I have the excitement of purchasing a new compartmented-bag and coffee date with my beautiful fiancée to look forward to sum the end of this most grand event.

My Version... Part 2

As we headed towards our destination, Liz guessed where we were heading- a trip to see The Lion King at the Lyceum Theatre in London. It is my favourite show to go and see, and I was hoping that it would be just as special in the eyes of Elizabeth. The tickets we got were perfect, apart from a foreign family who sat behind us chatting during a large proportion of the opening act! But this was my night with my Liz; it wasn’t going to ruin it for me. The seats made us feel like we were part of the show, with a huge elephant, hyenas, and birds flocking past us.

After the great production we headed in the direction of Trafalgar Square, which in the evening looks very beautiful and this night was fairly secluded. As we walked around, I would stop and tell Elizabeth that I loved her very much and that she means the world to me. Despite the facet we had recently been talking and praying about marriage, and it was obvious to both of us that the time was nearing when we no longer used “if’s” about our future together- these were not intended to be “fake proposals”, although looking back I can see where these assumptions may have come from. So when I blunted stated “let’s go home now” the reaction of disappointment and annoyance that Liz showed was not immediately detected.

When the time had come for us to part ways for the evening, something was clearly wrong when Liz said she wouldn’t let me know when she was home because “her phone was already off”.

The following day had many opportunities to mess with my grand plan. The weather would not decide if it would rain, or be dry, sunny, or cloudy- contingency plans were needed in abundance.

I had arranged for one of our close friends to meet Liz for a “walk” around a lovely lake called Little Britain that is very picturesque and quiet during the days. Now, if it had rained, I had arranged for a friend to come and pick me up in his car (I couldn’t drive as my sling was still being worn) and for us to pick up a gazebo (kind of a tent without any sides). If it had rained, it would have been down to a newly engaged Liz to put away for me. I also briefed Louise to be stubborn about going for a walk, no matter what the weather.

I had text Liz numerous times during the morning, suggesting we should meet for lunch, but to no avail. No response from Liz meant she was still mad at me. Perfect. She had no idea about the impending question.

I arrived at the lake about half an hour before Liz’s due arrival time (although I assumed it would be more like 45 minutes, given Liz’s usual timing!), wearing my best suit and shirt, and set up a lovely picnic including candle, champagne and strawberries and pomegranate juice- her favourite! With my bible in tow, I set about reading Proverbs 31 and prayed.

(This is the view of where I proposed)

Liz arrived on time, and I had taken up my hiding place behind a set of trees beside the car park and waited a few minutes. Nothing. I received and text from Liz stating that yes, we could meet up for lunch when she’s done. I came out form my hiding place and went over to Liz’s car to open it for her. All she could say was “You’re ridiculous”. With a great deal of satisfaction- knowing that she never ever suspected this to happen- I lead her over to the picnic and stuttered through how great Liz is and how much I love her, for getting key words along the way which Liz had to say instead! I got down on one knee (creating a huge wet patch on my best suit trousers) and asked Liz to marry me!! With a great deal of embarrassment, she asked me to stand, accepted and gave me a hug- we were there for quite a while, laughing, and Liz was crying. Liz. Crying. To those who know her- this just doesn’t happen!

So, that’s my version! I am now the happiest man in the world. I get to marry a woman of God who is so perfect for me in every way. I get to spend the rest of my life with Elizabeth soon-to-be Brown!

My Version... Part 1

Those of you who read this will probably have already read my beloved Elizabeth's blog- this is my version. As a man, our stories always start far before women's versions of things. This is how it unraveled...

Back in the early hours of the 5th May 2008, I made the choice to call Mr Watkins and ask for his daughters hand in marriage- quite possibly the scariest phone call I've ever had to make. He was great about it and accepted. The first hurdle had been jumped. This phone call was made at about 2 in the morning and I was so excited that I didn't go to be until 4am... then was awake for a further hour. I knew that I was going to ask the one that I love to be my wife! The previous week I had ordered the ring that Liz and I had chosen together- everything was ready to go, whenever I chose.

Plans were put in place- now was the challenge of surprise. I announced to Liz that in the next week or so we'd be going on a special date- a rarity for our usual spontaneous/ laid back times we spend together. I took that week to fast and pray about the choice I'd made and got great confirmation from Him.

Collecting the ring turned out, thanks to my love, to be a nightmare! I had arranged with a co-worker and great friend from Church to take me into town to collect the ring on the lunch time of Monday 12th May. This was the exact time that Liz decided she wanted to go into town to do some shopping with her friend Anna. I was so mad that my unemployed girlfriend, who could go into town at any chosen time, chose the exact time that I needed her not to be there! A big bag from a jewelery shop is kind of a give away, so with great beads of sweat pouring down my face I headed towards the special shop for a special occasion. After what seemed like an age to complete the transaction I had the ring. It doesn't end there though! That evening Liz's Track Practice finished early and Liz asked to go straight to mine. Because I couldn't think up a good enough lie, I was forced to accept! So the race was on, I finished work at 5.30, she finished Track at 5.30! The same co-worker had agreed to rush me home- only to see her car parked as we came up my street. "No problem" I thought "I can sneak round the back and hide the bag in the garden for a bit!" No such luck. Liz had seen me coming and, most unusually, had opened the door for me before I got there, prompting me to sprint straight upstairs and hide the ring in my room! Nightmare.

In the days leading up to our Big Date, I dropped tiny hints at what we might be doing- being very careful not to lie about anything on the Thursday- carefully worded texts and emails were the order of the day.

On the day, Liz took me to the hospital for a shoulder check up, and I had written carefully worded instructions on a parchment of paper that detailed what kind of things we would be doing that evening without giving away the whole thing. The afternoon was booked off (unbeknown to Liz) which was a chance for me to calm my nerves, pray and get my look on. At 5.15 I picked Liz up, we went into London and got excited about where we were about to go! Disaster nearly struck when the train announcer told us that there were major delays. My major concern at that point was not missing our reservations, but the amount I needed to wee and the potential for a wet pair of jeans. When we reached our chosen destination (having properly disposed of our Starbucks cups) I had the most satisfying wee ever known to man, and felt a whole lot more relaxed!

The fun was just about to start...

The Bathroom Upstairs...

As in the case with all boys trying to me men, men acting like boys and actual boys, topic of conversation can always find a way to the fountain of relief- the toilet. I have succumbed, right here, right now.

I have taken to, at work, using the upstairs toilet. A much safer haven than the dingy downstairs debacle of a throne. Being slinged up means everything generally takes twice as long, as well as having countless embarrassing opportunities presenting themselves while I try and relieve myself one handedly. Why risk it? Why leave myself vulnerable to attack? The safe sanctuary of the Director's bathroom (for any American readers) give freedom to relax, peace to use my phone, and time to contemplate the deeper meanings and complex issues that hit me head on daily.

Sorry if this post is particularly uncouth, I just love that picture!

4 Thousand Words...

So, it turns out that Photobooth is probably my favourite ever application on a computer!!! I love pictures, and it's kind of lame, but because I don't have a working camera, this is one of my few ways to document good old memories (apart from my sense of smell- thanks for that Spooner).

Here are some of my recent favourites:

Teeth galore here...

How mashed up various doctors and surgeons have made my shoulder look- pretty manly!

3 members of my household- amazing guys- trying to look like Groucho Marx...

All in all, I'm not very good at documenting my favourite moments- thank heavens for Photobooth!!!

Out and A-Bolt

Bowing out of the football charades in style was always going to be my big aim prior to being in a football wilderness, a barren patch longer than I've ever experienced. 6 goals in two days and a probable red card (or two) was enough to keep me happy- and will have to serve me well for the next 6 months.

On Wednesday 16th April I kissed the footballing world behind with an operation that will keep me out until October 2008- it already feels like a long time since last venturing onto the football pitch, with 3 more bolts and a major muscle reconstruction that hinders ambition, stubs-out hope and renders that one last game impossible.

Nevertheless, it has given way to a life of luxury and a fresh realisation that I have found my happily ever after (some one's just watched Enchanted!!). Having Elizabeth taking care of me has been a pure delight- as difficult as I have inevitably made it for her. Being pumped to the rim with anesthetic and morphine (God bless the inventor of that concoction), I've spent most of every day asleep. Elizabeth being there when I drop-off, when I wake up and knowing her watchful eye over me has been the greatest blessing I could have hoped for from this operation. There is no one else on this earth that I can imagine being with for such lengthy periods and still love every minute with them more than the last.

In short, the fate of being so distanced from my love of playing football sharply fades away into nothingness when I consider the unconditional love, grace and compassion that Elizabeth has poured upon me in the last 2 weeks. What a woman; what a blessing.

What's in a name...

On a day of excitement, anticipation, a fair amount of boredom, and feelings of awe and anxiety, I'm left with one thought that stands out amongst them all- my name is very boring.

I have much excitement in regards to footballing exploits, previous and impending, anticipation and anxiety, mixed in with a dash of frustration over my imminent shoulder operation.
Anticipating eagerly how well Elizabeth is going to treat me and take care of me in the immediate future.
Having feelings of awe and grandeur about how, despite all the rubbish and battles being thrown in Liz's and my direction, how God could leave such a feeling of calm, assurance and how He would choose to lead me prophetically and stir my heart.

YET, I am distracted by my name. It is brought alive in new capacity via the excitement of starting a new blog- and namely getting a URL for this blog. The sheer commonness of the name Brown has left me with one possible URL: brownphil. Hardly flattering. Hardly a name that will provoke imagery of bronzed skin and sun filled holidays over more commonly associated brown objects. This also sees the pre-chosen name of my first son dashed- River. Parents can be mean, but I am unwilling to take the biscuit here and subject a life of torment... Brown, River.

The mantle my father has carried of the name Brown, the way he has conducted himself, the respect he has commanded, has left it a name spoken with feelings of great memories, close friendships and spiritual maturity- a legacy that will be a momentous feat to live up to. But the feelings remain- there really isn't a lot that can be done with such a name.

Apologies in advance to future generations.