Shock And Awe

Went off to see some former colleagues on Sunday night. The rendez vous was in Highbury and strangely enough the streets were deserted. WAs it the Bank Holiday or was it the 8-2?

Who knows. I have got a pile of papers to see what the pundits say. The Daily Telegraph's front page splash: Call to legalise assisted suicide could equally be applied to the Arsenal performance.

But we must not mingle the genres. That would be crass.

To domestic things. I have discovered a little slice of mediterranean chic just near Waterloo. Lots of pot plants, shrubs and strong coffee. Curious name of Ev. But it is just behind Southwark station.

Went there with the missus. Rather a shame that the climate in London is hardly mediterranean at the moment. But if you want that kind of sun, then you go to the mediterranean. Really rather logical that.

Just as logical as giving the three darlings to my mother for the day, so that I can go to work.

Hang on I think I've missed a trick somewhere.

End of Summer

You know it's the end of the holidays when football is on the tele again. I watch the highly paid professionals and wonder about the coming season at the lower end of the food chain. Will I have the stamina? Will I score a different type of goal? Will I score? Can I pass the ball?

With the emphasis of late on purely personal games such as tennis, the question really is will I cope with a team game?

As the world athletics championships unfold in South Korea with shock, awe and drama, it seems odd to be in Europe rather than in the ring for the radio station reporting from the arena.

I would have seen disqualifications galore. Who would have thought that Usain Bolt would be disqualified from the 100 metres sprint. But then who would have thought that Arsenal would lose 8-2 at Old Trafford.

I have seen it all now. Destruction. I am warming to Arsenal and Arsene Wenger's philosophy of open misery. It's compelling theatre.

And the great thing is that it is bound to continue. There's no one else that can bring them the kind of football they're used to now. And no-one else can cope with the players that they've got. Catch-22 if ever I saw one.

Football, bloody hell as Sir Alex Ferguson once said. It's supposed to be a game. But three matches in I feel worn out by the Premier League and we're not even out of August.

Maybe my intensity will drop once I get up and playing again.

Then it really will be the end of summer.

The Riots

Where was the blog during the riots? Well out of it. Yet implicated. We are all in it together as our political leaders told us at the start of the austerity drive.

When it comes to meting out the post riot justice, some are more in it than others.

Some people want the ones caught locked up for ages and others are saying hang on or was that hang them?

Either way the genie of vindictiveness is out and about. Short termism is upon us. Britain needs politicians with a social vision.

But hey ho the football season is back. Chelsea need a midfielder with vision.

And I'm wondering about my own skills come the new season. Riots?