I’m writing this at 5.40 in the afternoon. Just after the restart of the Spurs match at Manchester City. Because my sense of impending doom, of foreboding, my sense that all is not quite right in the world, is massive. And is definitely not improved by watching the tv. In fact, it’s quite depressing. We’re 2-1 down but it could be so much worse. And I can’t help worrying that it’s going to get worse. So I’m writing this instead. To distract. To try and avoid the inevitable. Even though my eyes keep drifting over the screen.

The good news is that I managed to play 50 minutes of tennis before getting rained off the court, whereas according to the weather forecast, the chances of starting play were less than 10%. So one must only deduce that weather forecasts are total bollocks and speculation and thus must wonder why I put so much stock into what they say.

And then I look up at the screen and WE SCORE!!!! It’s 2 all. My spirits lift, football once again changes from being the cynical plaything of sports-washing Arab oil barons, to become the beautiful game, played by beautiful people, in a world full of flowers and baby lambs (like, frolicking, not in the kebab shop).

Otherwise I was going to abandon this and watch the new series of Slow Horses. On Apple TV. Firstly because the first two series are the best thing ever filmed (I’m a victim of hyperbole on occasion but this time I really mean it!!! Like every other time) and secondly because my free 6-months of Apple TV expire in 5 days time. And even though £6.99 for 6 or 8 episodes of Gary Oldman’s brilliance is a bargain, it still irks a bit. I mean, did those bastards at Apple wait specifically until one week before my time was up before screening the only thing I ever want to watch on their poxy channel? Other than Lessons in Chemistry, which is the second best thing ever filmed ever.

The problem being that I’m currently reading Slow Horses 4 and the tv one is 3. And if I start watching, I’ll get them confused. So I can’t really start watching until the book’s done.

Meanwhile, I glanced up again on for Jack fucking Grealish to put City 3-2 ahead. Just 10 minutes to go… what should I do… where should I go… Don’t make me watch it!!! It hurts.

– Sunday

A xxxx