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Events at a local cricket club - Bolton Villas - over the last few months have shocked, confused and appalled many. The law has largely abstained from any useful function in the face of criminal damage, trespass and disgraceful abuse of decent people. This is a difficult tale to tell, especially as I spent most of my life at this beautiful old ground, fortunate to meet lifelong friends through the game of cricket - but it needs to be told for reasons more than simply cricket. In short, those afforded the privilege of playing at the ground in recent years failed to respect the standards and duty of care established over decades so far as running a cricket club entails. The ground and equipment had fallen into disarray; served notice to quit, the reaction was unbelievable. When the notice to quit expired, the main club gates were sawn off twice. The clubhouse and outbuildings were broken into whilst the police arrived only to turn around and vanish, calling this a "civil matter". The Trustees of the ground were left with costly damaged property and an illegal occupation of the ground and buildings. Bizarrely, although not allowed to stage official league games, the ground was then pimped out for unauthorised and uninsured games. The main culprit is still involved in local league cricket - so much for the Spirit of Cricket - how can this be? Threats were made against several elderly residents, including regular taunts of racism - anyone opposing these people was automatically deemed racist, which defied credibility. A threat was made to burn a family home down; pet dogs were threatened with poisoning; and several of us received unwanted visits on our doorsteps. The race card was dispensed more often than police crime reference numbers; decent people were labelled with no right of reply nor comeback. Locals are multi-cultural and have got along fine for decades; they should not have endured this thuggery unprotected. The police were woeful. Useless too were local councillors, thankfully all out of office now. The Trustees were served court papers challenging the eviction. This, after investing countless hours trying to help their accusers. Judgement was made in favour of the Trustees after two hearings at Bradford Combined Court in early June. Out of all this has come some good in that neighbours have been galvanised into forming a residents' association. One sunny Tuesday evening in June, people gathered with tools and passion to start the process of restoring the ground to what it was. There is a hope that cricket will return in future years, but there is much to do to get the playing area up to standard again. It will need countless hours of hard work and a genuine, long-term commitment to cricket, something lost on the previous occupants. Maybe one day the old boys who populated the unique Critics' Corner, with their secret tipples, unsurpassed knowledge of the game and coaching "tips" to home and away players alike, will watch again on high. The destruction of the plaque honouring their memory was disgusting. Finally, herein lies a lesson for all volunteer-based sports clubs who may sit on valuable assets. Get your governance in order now. For donations, please send marked BVCC: The Trumpit Ltd: Barclays Bank SC: 20-76-92 Ac Number: 73302865

EULOGY FOR KEVIN JOHN WOOD (1949-2025) Kevin Edgar Wood was born on 12th February 1949 in Stafford to parents who had met during (or shortly after) the Second World War: his mother, Susan, was from near Magherafelt in what is now Northern Ireland and had been a munitions worker in Staffordshire during the war; his father Edgar had served in the Navy and came from Bradford – and it was back to Bradford that the family moved when Kevin was around 1 year old. After a few temporary addresses they settled at Fallowfield Gardens on the new estate at Bierley in a house which was big and modern by the standards of the day. Kevin’s early interest in history became evident when he buried a ‘time capsule’ box in the garden for the interest of future generations – as far as we know it’s still there, although the house itself is no longer standing! At his christening Kevin was given the additional name of Patrick and on his confirmation he chose the name John. As he never liked the name Edgar (neither, incidentally, did his father) he was generally known, officially, as Kevin John Wood, the first of several different names that he would adopt throughout his life… Unfortunately Kevin’s parents split up when he was around 8 years of age; by this time a sister, Angela, and brother Gary had been born – sadly Gary died a few years ago in Bath where he had lived for many years. Kevin passed his 11 plus and went from St Columba’s primary school on Tong Street to St Bede’s Grammar School on the other side of Bradford, catching the 80 bus to and from school every day. He very much enjoyed his time at St Bede’s where he flourished academically – and he had some good stories about the legendary headmaster Morgan V. Sweeney – but as the eldest of three siblings growing up in a single-parent household in the 1950s he felt the need to start earning a wage to support his mother and accordingly left school at 16 after obtaining CSE French and ‘O’ Levels in English, Maths, History and Art. Kevin was always keen on recalling the different jobs that he had done during those early working years – including a van driver and a crumpet packer at Newbould’s bakery in Laisterdyke. When Kevin had been growing up in Bierley, and latterly in Holme Wood, he had served as an altar boy at St Columba’s church [see photograph on the back of today’s service sheet] and he’d also been in the parish choir, where he sometimes sang solos of Ave Maria from behind a pillar in the church, being very shy as a boy. In his teenage years Kevin ran a disco for young people at the church hall under the stage name of “The Cardinal” alongside his friend Ray Tate, who was known as “The Emperor” – Kevin’s first experience as a DJ. After leaving school Kevin became very interested in the possibility of a call to the priesthood. He visited the Carmelite order, based at Aylesford in Kent, to explore this potential vocation. Ultimately life was to take him on a different course, but he always retained a very strong faith – and an interest in the Carmelite order in particular. In Kevin’s early career he worked as an accountant, attaining additional qualifications in accounting, law, economics and business studies. He worked for John Priestman, Southern & Redfern, and Allied Industrial Services, all based in Bradford. In 1969 he married his first wife and they had a daughter. As he approached his 30th birthday, in the late 1970s, Kevin began to moonlight – accountant by day, DJ on hospital radio by night. He soon realised what he really wanted to do and, on being told by a superior at work that he had to decide between the two, chose the life of a DJ and entertainer – which is how he is best remembered today. In 1978 he began working at BBC Radio Leeds as an assistant, soon graduating to be the presenter of a much-loved programme. He adopted Alvin Blossom as his stage name (and Kevin Kaye as his ‘official’ name), although to most friends from this period onwards he was known simply as ‘Bloss’. Kevin’s years at Radio Leeds were the happiest of his life and the time that he looked back on in retirement as his greatest achievement. The Alvin Blossom show was very popular, regularly attracting high figures of listeners or ‘viewers’ as he always called them (including from darkest Lancashire), and featured the Boy Blossom Club (a pun on the BBC) in which he would enroll viewers who had written in or contributed to the show in some way. By this time Kevin had moved to his beloved Thackley, having taken up residence at the first ‘Cheese Cottage’ on Park Road in 1974, and his radio show often put Thackley on the map – his segment “Tales of Thackley Folk” even earning a feature on the hallowed pages of the Radio Times one week! During his time at Radio Leeds Kevin also performed as a DJ in many pubs and clubs throughout Yorkshire, under the name of “Special K” in the early days. In the 1980s Kevin often appeared in public under the guise of Alvin Blossom, for example fronting the station’s gala in Roundhay Park, appearing with Harry Gration on Children in Need, and being invited to open a bistro in – of all places – Robin Hood’s Bay. In 1983 he moved from Park Road to 52 Windhill Old Road in Thackley, which he again christened “Cheese Cottage” and where he spent many happy years. In 1987 Kevin, and his then wife (known as Mildred to Radio Leeds listeners), took on the lease of the Shoulder of Mutton public house just up the road, which sadly closed some years ago. Kevin was in his element as landlord and resident entertainer and many will have happy memories of nights out at the Shoulder with its interesting characters such as Old Jack, Phil Frenzy, and Fozzie Foster. There were also some great parties including on Bonfire Night (for which Kevin invested his own money in an outside decking area), children’s and pensioners’ parties at Christmas, and even an ‘Allo ‘Allo party one New Year’s eve! During this period, Kevin’s Radio Leeds programme moved from daily to early afternoon on Saturday. He was thus able to combine the two jobs that he loved most. Unfortunately it was not to last. In 1992 Bass brewery decided that the Shoulder was doing so well that they wanted to take it back under direct control and offered Kevin the position of an employed manager, which he refused. Not long afterwards Radio Leeds decided to reorganise its programming and he was offered a different, less popular, slot – again he refused. It was a great shame that both these roles, into which he had thrown all his considerable energy, were not better recognised by the powers that be. While at the Shoulder of Mutton, Kevin had started to produce a regular pub newsletter, known as the Thackley Trumpit – initially a single side of typed news which appeared weekly. In fact the prototype of the Trumpit had first appeared in the Radio Leeds magazine in the early 1980s with a photograph of him and Gill in a motorbike and sidecar gracing the cover. Publication initially ceased when he left the Shoulder but in 2000, as many of you know, the Thackley Trumpit was reborn and continues to this day. The iconic motorbike and sidecar picture appears again on this month’s cover and, at the editor’s request, a copy of this month’s Trumpit accompanies Kevin on his final journey. The next phase of Kevin’s life saw him expand into the world of television as a presenter on the cable network for the annual Bradford Festival Television – where the Alvin Blossom show continued in a different form – and also as an actor on numerous productions from 1996 onwards including the film ‘Among Giants’ with Pete Postlethwaite. He also ventured into the world of screen writing and there are several scripts based on life in Thackley just waiting for the right TV producer to discover them! Kevin continued appearing as an entertainer locally and many will fondly remember his quizzes, particularly at the White Bear and (until it closed) the Shoulder, as well as the infamous Play your Cards Right! He also served for some time as steward at Thackley AFC on Ainsbury Avenue. In 2005 he married again and continued to live at Cheese Cottage with two successive border collies called Charlie … and Chaplin the cat! Kevin retired in 2012 and moved away from Thackley. He had long harboured an ambition to acquire a motor home and do some travelling – he was able to get down to see his brother Gary in Bath and spend some time there. In his last few years Kevin lived at the Tarn House Holiday Park near Skipton where he enjoyed watching and feeding the wildlife … after the death of his dog Petra, which he had inherited from his good friend Brian Foster! Throughout his retirement Kevin was a generous supporter of many charities, including CAFOD, the St Barnabas Society for convert clergy (for whom he undertook appeals for several years), the Society for the Protection of Unborn Children, and – in particular – the St Vincent de Paul Society. The SVP, as it’s generally known, had supported Kevin’s mum in the difficult times when she found herself alone with three children to bring up in the 1950s. Kevin never forgot this generosity and was glad to support the SVP in his later life not just financially but in practical terms, for example by cooking Christmas dinner for (fellow) pensioners at St Peter’s Church in Laisterdyke. There is a plate available at the back of church as you leave should you wish to make a donation to the SVP in Kevin’s memory. So whether you knew him as the Cardinal, Special K, Kevin Kaye, Alvin Blossom, Bloss, or simply as Kevin, we’d be delighted if you could join us at the Thackley Football Club on Ainsbury Avenue from around 2pm today where food will be provided. There will be a private family burial for Kevin at Bowling Cemetery immediately after this Mass, following which the family will return to the football club around 3pm. May he rest in peace. 

Recently I was challenged that I might be overly critical of Bradford Council, in particular, its leadership. Criticism is welcome and few of us have anywhere near all the answers in a complex world. That said, I am a born and bred Bradfordian into his seventh decade. Nothing would give me more pleasure to live in a city on the front foot, envied by others; nothing hurts more than our seemingly unstoppable decline over the last few decades. Not all the fault lies with the council leader, Cllr Hinchcliffe, and yet when a football team is in freefall, they don’t usually sack the tea lady. In business life, the buck stops somewhere and is not a game of pass the parcel. Hinchcliffe’s single biggest problem is that she attaches no personal responsibility to Bradford’s problems despite being the leader of the council since 2016. Ever since she came to power she has bleated about the effects of austerity, introduced by George Osborne in 2010, six years before she became leader, surely enough time to form some kind of strategy. However, it is always somebody else's fault suggesting that she is bereft of any ideas of her own. True, councils have been squeezed by central government and many will argue with good reason when you see how they splurge our money; governments do this well too! However, few are anywhere near such a perilous position as Bradford and yet “it wasn’t me!” is the constant wail from the great leader. Well, somebody presided over the collapse of children's services costing tens of millions; somebody went almost three times over budget on Bradford Live; somebody insisted on a pent-up demand for Grade A office space leaving us with a half-empty glass block; somebody went running to the Tory government she so despised for a £220m bailout only to complain recently that it attracted interest; and somebody still cannot give an opening date (or a final cost) for another expensive folly, Darley Street Market. There are many more examples of dreadful decision making, the consequences of which will be felt for years. And, you cannot seek to blame all and sundry when you have overseen the wiping out of some £270m of reserves in little over three years. This year Bradford is UK City of Culture (CoC), an award many locals find ridiculous. It looks like a life raft for the woeful leader, the council itself lumping in £10m of cash they don't have and the city centre getting tarted up whilst the outlying areas continue to see zip. Pinning her down is not easy - witness her ducking and diving on opening night of the CoC year. When she does consent to give her valuable time to the media her appearances are of car crash material. Recently she would only grant the local paper a telephone interview, a sure sign her ego is now running the show. Ambassadorial she is not. So here we are now with her last desperate throw of the dice, a 15% increase in council tax which will only plug some of the gap. Double it and she would blow it. Typically, she attempted to hoodwink us claiming it would only be an extra £8-9 a month; which was true only of the lowest band. In the middle ground the rise is circa £30 a month - see below. Now consider her timing with no local elections this year - a simple coincidence? That she survived a vote of no confidence at the start of the year demonstrated the abject lack of any quality or ambition waiting in the wings. One look at her so-called Executive and you suspect the local comprehensive would have a deeper talent pool. Nationally, apathy and mistrust towards politics has never been higher; on a local level most would rather chew their toenails than read about local politics. However, this is going to cost generations of hard-working people for many years to come and all to preserve the career ambitions of a single hopeless local councillor. There are no miracle cures for Bradford but one thing is certain. If Cllr Hinchcliffe cannot be persuaded to quietly step aside, things are only going to get a lot worse.

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A Tribute To The Late Jeff Potter