so near yet so far yet so near

My prediction of doom looked well and truly fulfilled on Wednesday when, after 10 mins, Spurs were a goalkeeper and two goals down to Inter in the San Siro. When it went to 4-0 the boy and I had even given up swearing at the TV. The incredible hat trick from Bale in the second half means that the record will show a close match and an exciting one. The latter is true but not the former. Still we proved we can score against them. Well, we proved that Gareth Bale can score against them. When that third one went in the boy leaped out of his seat and let out a guttural "YEESS" which then turned into a weird squeak. His voice hasn't been the same since. I then stupidly became optimistic and thought we could do it but the ref had had too much and blew up far too early.

Saturday versus Everton was the very definition of lacklustre. 1-1 suggests a touch of excitement but really I got more of thrill vicariously when seeing the enjoyment of a mate from South Africa who had come to his first Spurs game. I sat in the East Stand away from the rest of the crowd and had to endure a commentary on the ref, a lot of moaning and tutting whenever anyone tried to join in the singing. I may have had a better view than normal but I'm not sitting there again.

Score prediction

I'm often less than optimistic when it comes to predicting Spurs results. When we are playing someone like Doncaster in the Carling Cup I imagine complacency, fluky goals and humiliation. It may have happened on relatively few occasions but those moments are seared on each Spurs fan's memory and tend (in the mind of the pessimist) to overshadow the times of triumph. I do sometimes (usually foolishly) lurch from pessimism to optimism but tonight, at the thought of Spurs' challenge in the San Siro, I am laughing much like a man condemned to death. I feel a 3-0 or worse coming on. I know Rafa has replaced Jose but can't get past our defensive frailties.

Paper

I can't keep on top of it. My colleague has a clear desk and a few neat, ordered piles on the periphery. I can barely get to my keyboard to type this. I have a to do list and keep ticking things off but it doesn't seem to diminish the amount I have to do as I keep having to add things to it. "Tidy Desk" always seems so unimportant compared to the other things and, anyway, I don't really know how to tidy my desk. It sounds stupid but it's part psychological, part cognitive dysfuntion I think. I like order. I like tidyness. BUT I am not naturally inclined to achieving that. If literal suffocation or drowning in paper were possible I'd have been dead long ago. Instead I plough on with a permanent sense of foreboding whilst dressing frequent paper cuts.

Werner Von Braun said: "We can lick gravity, but sometimes the paperwork is overwhelming". My 'gravity' is teaching. I'm pretty good at that.

this is me this is

There are plenty of things that it's worth spending ages getting good at: Piano, football, brain surgery and so on. There are other things of which I found it hard to understand the motivation or reward: running a long way, synchronised swimming, preparing blowfish. This is something I would love to be able to do and I can imagine (almost/ sort of) actually putting in the hours if i had a genuine Bonzini table and a cool French bar to keep it in. ps. I know it's a Nokia viral but it's still impressive. pps. it's 'babyfoot' not 'foosball'.

Blog from iPhone

I tried this when I first got it. It didn't work immediately so as with all things technical I gave up. A virus of some sort on my laptop is only reason I am checking e mail on this and therefore only reason I needed to reject a comment and finally the only reason why I am writing this descriptive account of what I am doing in some kind of more than 160 character tweet. Colleagues were trying to persuade me of the educational benefits of Twitter last Friday at a conference. I tried therefore for a 4th time but I am still missing the point somehow. I also saw a demo of how Second Life could be used in education. I definitely learnt something. Too much bloody effort! It was awful. I felt sorry for the guy presenting but he only has himself to blame- he was nervy, not convinced himself and didn't know how to compensate for tech glitches.

As I post this I am on the phone to my wife. I am in trouble for not concentrating. Or at least I will be when she sees the post time. Perhaps i should change it to earlier this morn. Then, of course, none of this would make sense and all this awkward prodding would be for nothing.

This is the world we live in. Arsebook, twattier etc which can be great but so often is the kind of descriptive banality I have written here. Anyway, I must go and clean my teeth.

Pre-season warm up

Not long to wait now until the friendlies. Then 14 August is the first game. Against Man City. Who says it's a computer that works out the fixtures? I wonder who Cheslea have....? Oh yes, Granny Town FC. Still, I actually think that it's got to be better to play the MiddleEastlanders early considering the purchases they're making. Maybe the new boys will not have had a chance to gel by that stage. Today I heard Ya Ya Toure will be getting more than 200 grand. A week. As the boy says on Facebook: WTF?

Anyway, these will warm everyone up. It was especially chilly in South Africa for Defoe, Crouch, Lennon and King. Not to mention Assou-Akotto, Bassong and Gomez.

fears and irritations

Family medical worries, money, pompous colleagues, change at work, pain in my knackered hand, squeaky breaks on my car, Champions league qualification, The Tory and 'New' Tory coalition, poverty, homelessness, abuse...
Sometimes it's hard to put any of it into perspective; either relative to the worlkd or to each other. Lucky I've got a song and someone to sing it to.