Friday, 25 April 2008
When he's not injured. If he'd been there all season we wouldn't have shipped all those 33 points (mentioned below). Felt like the page needed brightening up.
This one includes a clip of the fastest ever premiership goal as well as some cheesy music.
From the BBC website:
"Tottenham have officially become the most wasteful club in Premier League history; never before has a team dropped as many as 33 points from winning positions in a single season in this league."
So, if we could hold on to a lead we'd be third. A point above Ar5ena1.
On a different note:
My boy had a mate round on Thursday. I was on strike and so were the boys' teachers so we made a day of it. I cooked lunch. I sneaked some peas into the otherwise meaty bolognaise sauce and dished up. " I don't really like peas, " said my boy's mate. He separated his out and left them neatly on the side of his plate.
Thursday, 24 April 2008
Even though I have been to Wigan before it had never occurred to me to imagine Wigan Pier as anything other then a wooden thing sticking out to sea with a dishevelled and windswept George Orwell at the end of it. In the car on Saturday on the way to the JJB ('you can't miss it mate, it's round the back of the shops') we passed the pier. It looks pretty dull as it goes. Definitely the sort of place a southerner would get 'a slap' on a Friday night or after a footy match.
In contrast to Birmingham and, to a lesser extent, Blackburn, Wigan near the footy ground had a slightly sinister edge to it. We'd visited relatives nearby and that was all very pleasant and friendly but the stripey herd of Latics fans (I was going to say hoard but that would be an exaggeration) looked almost neanderthal in their gait. Hardly any of them had any hair and they all looked pretty rough, I have to say. I wasn't expecting this at all.
The ground was packed at the Spurs' end and patchy at best elsewhere in the ground. Both I and the boy thought we'd not hear a murmur from the Wigan fans. That they'd evolved sufficiently to master verbal communication was something of a shock so when a little cluster sung their hearts out throughout the game, sometimes humorously, I had to admit that my stereotyping and prejudgement had gone into overdrive prior to the game.
One song about Emile Heskey made me laugh a lot and I hope that we can steal it for Darren Bent when he has his renaissance next season and scores a hatful:
There's only one Emile Heskey
One Emile Heskey
He used to be shite
but now he's alright
We're walking in a Heskey wonderland
Predictably it was 1-1. This was enough to send the Wigan fans into a cup winningesque frenzy of celebration which was bit odd. A similar result at the Lane on Saturday will not send me into a celebratory frenzy. I think we'll buck the trend though. Bolton beware: we're going to score 5 goals.
Friday, 18 April 2008
On the COYS forum today. Worth sharing:
INGREDIENTS Ready made Crumble Mix
1 German Prune (Well past its sell by date)
4 French Lemons
3 African Melons
2 Spanish Plums
2 Brazilian Nuts
2 English Gooseberries, if you have them lying around (Please Note, These fruits are seriously over rated)
It is recommended that you adhere to the recipe but as it is an "Ar5ena1 Crumble" some cheating is expected. For a good "Ar5ena1 Crumble" topping, the ingredients need to be well beaten before cooking (5-1 should do it). Add all of the fruits together in a hot cauldron (White Hart Lane is perfect) and make sure they stew for 90 minutes. You will know that they are properly stewed as they will completely break down and lose all of their structure. Add a generous splash of "Chateau Wegner" whine to add to the sour taste. Once this has been done, cover with the crumble mix and place into a very hot oven (Old Trafford, maybe) for a further 90 Minutes.The Ar5ena1 Crumble is now complete.
Warning : Ar5ena1 supporters may find this dish very bitter to swallow.
at 12:39 Posted by Matt
We miss you too Martin!
video is touching for us sentimental types.
at 12:23 Posted by Matt
I had to go the bank last Friday to pay a cheque in. I so rarely visit banks these days what with online banking and ATMs and being skint that there was actually something quite nostalgic about it: the queue; the pen that didn't work; the paying in slip with 'adrian is gay' conveniently already written on it so I didn't have to. I came out of the bank and, from the corner of my eye, saw the Co-op. 'Ooh, ' I thought, obviously affected by the whole Adrian thing, 'I could really do with some stuff for the weekend.' This moment of realisation is significant so bear with me.
I went into the Co-op intent on getting a snack or two for the journey dahn sarf to see my girl and watch the Boro game. As is always the way I started without trolley or even a basket but as I went round responding to effective merchandising, low low prices, by one get one frees and hunger pangs piling things up like the kids used to in that game on Crackerjack I thought I'd better get one. ( a basket that is- thought I'd clarify that. That sentence is ridiculously long and unwieldy but what is great is that it doesn't matter cos this is a blog and not masters level work. I have been criticising students' syntax all week, that's why this is on my hypocritical mind).
So I got the basket, filled it to the brim with saturated fats, sugars and, by way of compromise, some healthy bacteria and a vegetable. I got to the counter where some old lady ahead of me took about 15 minutes organising two tins of cat food and some moist toilet tissue into her tartan suitcase type thing on wheels. Then she paid. None of this bothered me in the slightest. I did not tut or moan. I'd never get really angry with a random person but, if you know me, you'll know I can be a little sarcastic from time to time. On this occasion I did nothing of the sort. In my mind, my face expressed a sympathetic but not pitying acknowledgement of what advancing years mean along with a furrowed brow sensitive and kind demeanour which said that I hoped that both she and her cat would be OK.
To summarise up to this point:
a) I hadn't intended going shopping at all
b) I was in a good mood
c) I'd bought quite a lot of stuff.
My turn arrives and I greet the checkout woman. She slides all my stuff down the till ramp but there are no bags.
'Can I have a bag please?'
'Why haven't you got one?' This confused me a bit and I think my reply must have got her back up even though it wasn't meant to.
'You haven't given me one.'
'You have to bring your own. For the environment.'
'I don't have my own.'
'Everyone in Hebden Bridge got one.'
'I don't live in Hebden Bridge. Can only Hebden Bridge people shop here? Is there some kind of hippy bag law?'
'It's for the environment,' she said again.
'I see, but I didn't know I was coming shopping.'
Her look made me feel like I was single handedly responsible for global warming, holes in the ozone layer, world war two and all disease and pestilence. Never the less she reluctantly handed me one miserable and flimsy Co-op bag. I quickly filled it.
'Err, can I have another one please?' Images of Crackerjack re-entered my mind as i imagined being forced to totter down the road back to my evil polluting car with all the stuff piled up so I couldn't see where I was going.
Eventually I managed to get three bags out of her. After I paid I heard her say to the woman from Hebden Bridge who was behind me in the queue: 'It's for the environment.'
Sunday, 6 April 2008
I have been feeling rough all week. Every time I think it's fading I perk up a bit then find myself all groggy and snotty again a couple of hours later. I ran a bath on Friday after a knackering day at work and spoke to my girl just before I indulged. I'm usually a shower person but I thought that I'd relax and it'd make me feel better. Girl says: 'The LAST thing you want to do is have a bath. EVERYONE knows that you shouldn't have a bath when you're ill.' Well if it is everyone then it's minus me because I'd never heard that one before. I did learn something though: When SHE has a cold I'll buy some air freshener and industrial strength deodorant. The nagging anxiety about the damage I was no doubt doing my system tainted the bathing experience I regret to report.
The reason I say 'GAH!' though is not because of this but because I started to feel a bit rough about an hour ago after overseeing my son's birthday 'party'. I say party but it was more a bunch of teenage lads alternately booming then squeaking then mumbling then guffawing all afternoon. My boy knows I'm going a bit deaf in one ear and it frustrates him when I can't hear him from two rooms away when he whispers something to me. For this reason, it puzzles me why these lads need the TV on so loud. I was trying to occupy myself with the paper and random internetty type things but the floor vibrated so much it was hard to concentrate.
Anyway, despite the snow and the cold I thought I ought to get something for my re-thickening head so put on some boots and a coat and trudged down to the shops. I really fancied the idea of curling up on the sofa with a hot Lemsip and the paper. I queued behind a very very old lady who paid for 4 cans of special brew and 200 Richmond (really) with coins, vouchers, bits of paper and some fluff. Maybe she just looked old: without all those fags and a few cans of Special Brew and she might have been the same age as me. I never thought of old ladies as Special Brew fans to be honest. Yet another case of anti northern prejudice I suppose.
So I got to the counter and asked for the Lemsip, trudged back and put the kettle on. Savouring the relative silence, I opened the box to discover that they are 'caplets'. They're not even pills. They're a word that doesn't exist! (Granted 'internetty' doesn't exist either but that's not the point). Why call them 'Lem...' i.e. Lemon and '...sip' i.e. you sip it if you can't actually sip it and I doubt very much if the bastard caplets taste anything like lemons. From now on I will buy Beechams.
Talking of 'Caplets', best mate was telling me yesterday about when he was a kid in the North East. I suspect that his family lived in a class all of their own because they lived in neither house, flat or bungalow but a 'Bungalette'. That's certainly not working class but it's a bit off middle class too. The reason it was called this is because it only had one room upstairs. I'm dying to visit this place; in my mind there's this strange cone shaped building but I suspect it's not as exciting as that. We lived in flats and houses when I was a kid. They were pretty ordinary. The only interesting thing I can think of about them is that one was a council house that had a flat roof. They were alternate rows of bungalows and houses faced with some horrible 1960s grey fascia material. In the 90s they put proper pointy roofs on them. They look OK now.
People complain a lot about the quality of schools these days but I challenge them to compare their kids' schools unfavourably against this one we spotted while walking towards Ewood Park yesterday. Man those kids must be tough.
On the other hand maybe this is the sort of thing we need to redress the balance in a world of health and safety regs and risk assessments. My favourite part of the playground is the concrete protuberances. I hope they won a design award.
Tuesday, 1 April 2008
I wonder whether anyone has really thought balancing a bucket of water on a door was a good idea for a joke. I tried to get the boy this morning by weighing down his bag but I went OTT and he sussed it before he'd got out of the door. Apparently his class fooled some kid into going to the wrong maths class. Maybe Spurs were just having a bit of a laugh at their supporters' expense when they sent out grannies in place of the real players against Newcastle on Sunday. I wouldn't have noticed except the fake Berbatov's giant bloomers were flashed when she went up for a near post header and I'm convinced the replacement Robinson had a stick and very dark glasses. He may as well have done for all the effort s/he put into trying to save their shots. Plus there was a distinct smell of wee pervading the ground throughout. Though I was right next to the Geordies. All credit to them: they outplayed us and outsung us (albeit in a language I didn't understand).
There's an interesting bit about the origins of April Fools day here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_Fools as well as some well collated examples of national and media hoaxes and tricks. They seem to suggest that people can be so stupid but why shouldn't you believe the guy on Radio 4 when he says that the theme of the Archers is changing to an upbeat disco tune? It's just what the bloody show needs.
I'm supposed to be collating material for some work I have to do. I'm going to be in trouble if I write loads. Just felt the need to write a few poorly constructed sentences before bed.