Archive for February, 2020

Here’s a few extra pics from the tournament my daughter entered. My favoured portrait lens is broken, hence shot style is different to usual.

MJM

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The number of visitors which have mostly visited this site over the years went into the tens of thousands a long time ago. Mostly they find it amusing and informative but the last request made was very different to all others preceding -simply put I was stumped. I thought about calling the old bill for advice even ,anfd perhaps I should. An team captain e-mailed me asking if they could join next season, they call themselves the ‘Clophill Killers’ Some feedback required here, as agreeing to their wishes may not be for the best. Have a look and decide yourself.

The ‘Clophill Killers’ club captain was arrested and detained during a match against Leighton Buzzard for banging the clocks off the table during matches, and letting tires down in the car park after he lost his game.
Studied the Catalan extensively, throws a solid right-hook.
A Caro-Kann King. Will put his head on you in the corridor before the game. if he gets the chance
Will play the St. Georges defense, will try to break into your car when its your turn to move.
Nasty fucker in time-trouble, likes to turn tables over in the end-game.
Usually plays the English Opening. Rating below 100. Never does much during matches. Often looks edgy.
Looks like a young Peter Svidler. Strong tactically, works out at the gym a lot.
No real interest in chess. Rating less than 70. Doesn’t usually make it out of the opening. Good to chat to.
Likes the Benko Gambit. Always gets hammered during play. Always in court.
The team reserve drafted in away to Northampton. Opened with The Grob and got a dart in the head for it on move two by the team captain: the match had to be cancelled, then there was a right rumpus.
Aftermath of the abandoned match. A Northampton player had his jaw broken as a result.

They want to enter Division two next season and call themselves ‘The Clophill Killers’ as mentioned. I smell danger here: they look like a right roudy bunch to me. But as they say, the more the merrier. A new club with more members may improve the league no end. Their inclusion may give them a psychological edge over other clubs in the league so strong they will take Div 1 by storm even though I do know they are all steaming before 9pm….perhaps many opposing teams will default,

I should add for the last 18 months I have been fully engaged with two writing projects, one of which is well over the 30,000 word mark. The reading list accompanying both is far more voluminous than when I wrote my dissertation on early 19th century German Philosopy. It’s broad and makes me read content for characterization I am unfamiliar with. A day without 6 hours of research and writing is a blessing…sometimes something lighthearted like this helps alleviate the tension. I doubt whether the aforementioned posts will remain as posts only. The proof reader is pushing towards publication but vanity aside, saying ‘I’m an author means fuck all, for myself, vanity refers only to appearance: humble brags over how I wrote this and that mean fuck all much because I write for myself and myself only. I prefer not to be read: if I am read so be it, if not so be it, comment so be it, don;t comment so be it…I just don;t care. I am an artist I write only for myself and no one else.

Mark.J.McCready

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In more recent years, Luton Chess Club has been in turmoil; with no fixed abode and a diminishing list of members you could write the names on the back of a stamp, it even moved to Bedford and played there for a while.

A sorry state of affairs arose, making the club the least popular in the league. But all that’s changed. We now have a playing venue that is modern and spacious. It’s location has re-titled Luton Chess Club as The University of Bedfordshire.

The University of Bedfordshire. (not your average looking chess club).
Beginner or expert, improve your chess and thinking skills by playing over the board with students, staff, and established club members. We offer nights for friendly games,  league matches in the Bedfordshire Chess League, and simuls by established local players also. It’s a great way to meet fellow students and town folk with a shared love of our beautiful game -so what have you got to lose? All welcome: no one unwelcome. A typical evening might look something like this.



Recently, Andrew Perkins, a fine gentleman and Luton’s strongest player performed a simul at the club.


For those of us who have been around a while, Andrew is well known. 

                                                               Sept.12th 1968

Beginner or expert, improve your chess and thinking skills by playing over the board with students and staff. We offer nights for friendly games, simuls by established local players and league matches in the Bedfordshire Chess League. It’s a great way to meet fellow students and town folk too -so what have you got to lose? All welcome: no one unwelcome.

This season’s fixture list stands as follows if you fancy some league chess.


Mark.J.McCready




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H.E.Bird

What is an obituary: it is a composition of achievements written for the profit of the publication it it sold in. As you would expect, before academia began professionalizing itself, the history of the deceased here offered is threadbare and has an unpleasant otherworldly charm about it. The death of H.E.Bird can be found here in the 1908 version of The British Championships.

Why do we repost obituaries? Sentimentality? Yep, I played 1. f4 for most my life and even played Bird’s line in the Lopez. That man means more to my own opening repertoire than any other player, and most certainly more than whoever wrote that archaic trollop which says almost nothing about his life and character as a human being, as the magazine’s readership requested.

Henry Edward Bird. Born July 14th 1829, died April 11th 1908…so it is claimed.

‘Jürgen Habermas’ (and his) obituary to friend and philosopher, Richard Rorty

One small autobiographical piece by Rorty bears the title ‘Wild Orchids and Trotsky.’ In it, Rorty describes how as a youth he ambled around the blooming hillside in north-west New Jersey, and breathed in the stunning odour of the orchids. Around the same time he discovered a fascinating book at the home of his leftist parents, defending Leon Trotsky against Stalin. This was the origin of the vision that the young Rorty took with him to college: philosophy is there to reconcile the celestial beauty of orchids with Trotsky’s dream of justice on earth. Nothing is sacred to Rorty the ironist. Asked at the end of his life about the ‘holy’, the strict atheist answered with words reminiscent of the young Hegel: ‘My sense of the holy is bound up with the hope that some day my remote descendants will live in a global civilization in which love is pretty much the only law.
― Jürgen Habermas

Mark.J.McCready

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“Parenthood…It’s about guiding the next generation, and forgiving the last.”
― Peter Krause (Parenthood)

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Get this: I enter my daughter into the National Championships of the country where she was born. She is entered into the girls U-8 section, which I thought she’d find a cinch. Her results are here:
http://chess-results.com/tnr513631.aspx?lan=1&art=1

The bottom line is she just isn’t ready, losing one game in only 6 moves. I found it hard on many levels. I have hyper mania and have had it since my main accident on Oct 9th 2016. Instead of sleeping I am up all night sprinting down dark lanes listening to dark heavy metal. Then it’s a motorbike to where the temple is, a walk over a long bridge, a taxi ride, 21 stops on the skytrain and, a sprint across a major city junction -not the sort of start to a day of chess your opening moves should bear resemblance towards and care for a dependent daughter relishes.

Despite my rusted eyes, photography responsibilities came to the fore, but because the chief arbiter didn’t know me, I had to put him in his place. The organizer, an old playing partner, stopped him short and let me come and go as I pleased whilst all other parents were booted out about a minute before play began -leaving me to click away until the fatigue made my eyes too heavy. Here are some of the pics I took of my daughter.

With parenthood patience becomes a virtue. And on a lighter note, because I have hyper mania and never sleep, on the train between rounds I dropped and went right to the end of the line, fifteen stations past the one I was meant to alight -Pra Khanong, which means temple village by translation. The security guard had trouble waking me up. When I got booted off the train I was propa fucked – but miles away from where I needed to be made me laugh more than anything. The next day I nodded off on the train again but only went one station past where I was meant to alight this time. At least it gave me good reason to flirt with a super hot mum whose daughter played mine. Tough old five days that was, thankfully with it being a long holiday there were less muppets in the city.

A lot more work lies ahead and speaking of which, it’s 0340 and time for another run down down lanes with dark heavy metal blasting out the old eardrums. Only 4.32kms everyday with a 1.6 km bike ride. Nothing much but sorely felt during official events…

“The soul is healed by being with children.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky

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Caught cold

As a loving and panglossian father, I wrongly assumed within 6 months my daughter would be doing all too well… .

I learn from parenthood that patience is both a virtue, and crucially, a necessity.

I entered Grace into the Girls U8 section of her National Championships thinking she had real chances…oops. Instead we could only encourage her to enjoy the event and pay no attention to the results. This meant I had to drag the old camera out. I have an eye for photography still but its a rusty eye.

IMG_0766

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