Ok, so I got the date wrong. I yesterday wrote of my love for the day’s (supposed) date and got it wrong. Just one number but some of you felt the need to correct this flagrant error. Can you just hold that posting and get it out on the 2nd of Feb, the date which I inadvertently decided should be yesterday.

And I’m not saying its not due to stupidity, nor senility, I’m sure both play a part. But much as I love number, and I really do, and I’m not too shabby at maths of geometry or calculus or algebraic nature, my kind of ‘low grade dyslexia’ has always had its greatest effect with numbers. Words are ok, I just can’t spell certain classes of them (ones with letters in being the biggest problem). But numbers I transpose. I do it with phone numbers as I’m writing them down, I do it with credit card numbers as I’m reading them out. It says ‘3791’ but I’ll read it as ‘3971’. Possibly the other way round. I’m not sure which way round I wrote that, they both look the same? Joking.

I was never diagnosed with dyslexia, it wasn’t invented until 1994. Well it was, but nobody claimed it, used it or got extra time in exams for having it. Pre ‘94 your were just labelled as ‘thick’, ‘dense’ or ‘daft’ and got to sit with the other ‘special’ children in the class. And the only ‘spellchecker’ we had was Mr Kennedy, our English teacher, who also used a red underline, like Word does, but his grew progressively more violent as the essay went on. Unfortunately his alcohol intake also increased progressively so you always wanted your essays marked in the morning.

So was that the cause of yesterday’s ‘slip’? I have no idea. Somewhere along the line I’d decided it was ‘02-02-2022’ because it looks so lovely and wish fulfilment did the rest. Dates are such arbitrary things anyway, does it really matter? There used to be 10 months and then they invented 2 more? Yet still they’re arbitrary. A day represents a rotation of our planet. A year represents one revolution of the Earth around the sun. The rest is just made up shit to make you feel bad if you’re late for a meeting. Or post the wrong date.

And furthermore I sincerely hope that absolutely nothing I ever write matters to absolutely anyone. Other than the football, which is important. Essential, even. The rest: total bollocks. That’s the whole point(lessness).

Happy Bank Holiday Monday

A xxxx