Spurs won last night. I was there. In the crowd. Well, it felt like it. I watched it with Lila’s daddy. Which, by today’s standards, is a big crowd. So we turned off the ‘artificial, simulated crowd-noise bollocks’ and made our own noise. Though not waking the babes, obvs. And before you start calling the covid police, or alerting the NHS app to ‘illegal activity’, I AM ALLOWED! Because they’re part of our ‘care bubble’. And as we both care deeply about Spurs, that totally counts as ‘an acceptable meeting of more than one body in a confined or indoor space for purposes of caring’. Without masks. Because with masks on, eating our curry would have been problematic. I make enough mess eating a curry without a mask on. And yes, it was a take-away. The gods had aligned to put a Spurs match on at dinner time whilst giving Lila’s daddy a half-price Uber eats voucher. I mean ‘GIVE ME A SIGN, LORD!!!’, or what?

The problem with ‘half price offers’ is that you generally, as a consequence, order twice as much. It’s almost an unwritten law. Money is worthless, because currently you can’t do anything significant with it, whereas chicken Jalfreizi is priceless. A few ‘craft’ beers and we were THERE. Yes, I’ve become a beer tart. If its not made in a London suburb and has hints of elderflower and narcissus, I won’t fucking drink it. New rule.

Spurs looked good. They looked all the better for Palace having Wilfred Zaha sitting on the bench, as Palace’s only real player is getting over injury. And, inevitably, we scored. A fab goal, inspired by the work ethic of Lucas Moura, created by the master, Harry Kane and finished by ‘that waste of space and money’ Gareth Bale. The pundits can start eating those words now, won’t be as tasty as my lamb dansak but that’s their fucking problem.

But then, as the Doom Bar flowed and the aloo gobi was finished off, Palace equalised. Christian Benteke scored a fab header. Not a good sign. Because Benteke is a striker in the Emile Heskey mode. Does lots of stuff but scoring goals is not really one of them. But the bastard scored, just before half time. “The worst time to concede a goal!!!!” Tell me when’s a good time.

I needn’t have feared. Spurs came out strong in the second half and our wonderful, Bale-inclusive, front line became unstoppable. Gareth scored again, followed by an amazing Harry strike and then finished off with another Harry goal, which JUST got  past the VAR nazis. And I mean JUST. They put all those lines across the pitch, perform multiple geometric calculations and decide, that by so many millimetres, Harry was onside. I’ve never been so happy that Harry isn’t circumcised. It was that close. And 4-1. 3 games in 8 days, 3 wins. As Liverpool lost their 6th successive home game, to ‘mighty'(???) Fulham, Manchester City imploded against neighbours United and Arsenal fumbled (literally), Spurs go marching on. And as there’s  plenty of curry left in the world, I can be nothing but optimistic. 

Deliriously happy Monday with a mildly dodgy tummy,

A xxxx