Football used to be about kicking balls around, maybe scoring goals, committing a few fouls, swearing at the ref, you know, football. Then along came the ‘Premiership’ in 1992, bringing with it loads and loads of cash. Because there were more televised matches. And with money comes accountants. And statisticians. All looking at where their – Read More-
So I wrote about Prince Philip, as was my divine duty, my right, my moral obligation, my… whatever. He died, I said ‘goodbye’, not that I’d ever said ‘hello’ but that’s the nature of obituaries. You don’t have to know everyone who dies, just to know OF them is sufficient. To make you a ‘mourner’. – Read More-
Parenting is a skill. An art. For which there are no rules. Which is why I was so good at it, I fucking hate rules. (Hence my deep and profound love of all things ‘pandemic’, for which there have been more rules in 13 months than in the previous 472 years combined). And when I – Read More-
Ok, so I have a bit of a problem. With Easter Eggs. An obsession. Addiction. Thus when Easter finally arrives it creates a panic. Because that signifies the ‘end of life, as we know it’ and there’ll be no more Easter eggs til next year! What we (me, myself and I) call ‘the doomsday scenario!’ – Read More-
Ok so its the back end of the football season. The final run in. The exiting bit. When the decisions get made. Who goes up, who goes down, who suffer the indignity of mid-tableness, who wins the cups and, the biggest of all: who goes into Europe next year. So this is what you do, – Read More-
That BITCH!!!!!! Meghan Markle/Windsor/Duchess is in yet MORE trouble! As she should be for upsetting Piers Morgan. Oh, and the Queen. Prince Philip. Well, all the royals, except Harry. She invested money into a company promoted by ‘bestie’, Oprah, which makes Oatmeal lattes. For the pretentiousness of that alone she should be shot, but in – Read More-
Lila was 4 yesterday. It was a watershed moment. As 4th birthdays always are. She suddenly picked up the Times and read it, washed up her bowls after lunch and ironed three of my shirts. You know its not true because I haven’t worn 3 ironable shirts in the last year. For her birthday we – Read More-
I played tennis on Monday evening. It was hot. Sunny. Gorgeous. And legal. It was day 1 of the (sodding, fucking) ‘roadmap’ (pause for vomit. Ok, done that) to recovery. And I was recovering. Unfortunately my shoulder wasn’t but that’s another story. It was simply wonderful. Liberating, quite literally. And felt so good. Except the – Read More-
I picked up the sports pages (really? How unusual!!!) in the Times yesterday to see a seven page article about how likely, possible, almost essential and totally desirable it would be for Harry Kane to leave Spurs. So I put it down again. Burned it. Made a mess on the sheets but Mel will get – Read More-
I love a World Cup. It’s just the qualifiers that cause me grief. No ‘football’ this week. And by ‘football’ I mean, proper, English, Premiership, top draw stuff. I mean Spurs winning, Arsenal losing, Chelsea all getting sent off, Manchester City making the awesome look mundane. Football. What I don’t mean by ‘football’ is an – Read More-