The Horror

Still can't quite believe that about a dozen lads can cause complete mayhem in a city for the best part of three days.

But there you have it Mumbai is living proof of shock value.

And England's cricketers are unsure as to whether to continue their tour of India. With a load of chaps targeting westerners, it would seem a tad dodgy.

But to rehash what a few politicians like to say from behind their bullet-proofed lifestyles: "We mustn't let them affect our way of life."

Since cricket isn't really my way of life I don't think I'm in any position to be too critical either way.

But if a few chaps can carve up a major industrial city for a few days, then hacking up blokes in white on a playing field will seem like a turkey shoot.

No news yet as to whether the football team won or lost. My left calf is feeling better. But then I haven't been doing anything remotely athletic on it.

I emerged from about 30 minutes of yoga this evening to try and get the boy to wear some slippers. It wasn't a success. He continues to rampage around the flat in bare feet making a terrible noise that probably infuriates the upstairs neighbour - Darth as I dubbed him in one of my journeys into the dark side of my humour.

The idea of putting the boy into slippers is essentially to stop Darth Neighbour from banging on his floor to show his displeasure at the levels of noise emanating from our flat.

And he might have a point when I was trying to be at one with my inner energies, the middle beast and the boy were making a noise and a half in the bath.

Talk about pouring cold water over my moment.

Anyway at the dinner table, the eldest said: "You're not very calm when you've finished doing your yoga, daddy."

I said: "On the contrary I'm calm otherwise I would have beaten the boy's bottom blue and sent you to your room without finishing your supper for eating with your elbows on the table."

She was more circumspect for the rest of the evening.

The Bike

While wending my way to work on the trusty steed that is my bike, I thought I out to take it in for a quick check up - a winter overhaul.

I had this brainwave as I strode into a cafe at Pont de L'Alma. It seemed the right thing to do given the turn of events with the weather.

I asked the waiter for a creme and he went off to get me one. After he'd brought it to me, I thought I might not have enough loose change to pay.

As I opened my wallet I realised that I had left my bank card in the back pocket of my jeans. Sure enough I didn't have enough cash for a creme but had enough to cover une noisette.

I called the waiter over and explained the predicament. Don't worry was his general tone, I'll see you this one. The fact that I ws in my cycling gear and looking a bit of a vagabond didn't enthuse me.

But I promised to return and settle up. If you do that would be great but if you don't no matter, was the gist of what he said.

I guess I was lucky.

Needless to say the puncture happened on the way home from the radio station. Talk about being in tune with the bike out of touch with the everyday.

The Strike III

Vive la France. Some of the teachers at school were on strike over class sizes. It meant that the middle child had a full day but the eldest was off all day.

I want to thank the teaching unions for giving me the chance to bond anew with my nine year old.

We took her brother to creche after stopping off for a coffee at Chez Prune where she ordered a chocolat viennois. I thought she asked for a grenadine.

I deposited the boy at the creche while she took the chance to sit up at the bar on a stool and then we went north to La Villette for a walk round the park and to play on some of the games there.

I watched the keep fit contingent jealously. They were able to stride around the park and exploit the various horizontal and lateral bars. Nursing a claquage is ever so tough.

It was cold and so we repaired to the Cafe de La Musique where after tapping into the wifi the Iphone weather function told us it was cold outside. It's brilliant technology.

This seemed to please the eldest and we came back home with her saying it was the best morning ever.

I back the teachers' strike.

The Wandering

It's like a new life. With three weeks out to contemplate I can do things that I don't usually do like go out and watch football and have a couple of glasses of wine. This is what I call high living.

Not sure that it's good for my head. Especially if the boy wakes up in a couple of hours. Was out watching the UEFA Champions League with my mate Neil and we saw the teams do the things they were supposed to do. Home to find a house at rest and I can watch Season 9 of Seinfeld. The football might have been so-so on TV, I might not be able to play for a few weeks but Seinfeld of an evening is a esult.

The Visit

The good thing is it isn't serious. I have what the doctor called un claquage musculaire - a muscle strain. This effectively means nothing resembling competitive sports for three to four weeks.

The doc said I can go swimming, do the yoga and cycling. But anything shocking is out. I find it shocking. I said to the doctor I found it difficult to actually go to the surgery because I knew there was nothing serious wrong with me. Nothing like last November when I was truly ailing.

In fact all of us were ailing. That was terrible. But at least I know what I must and must not do. So now it's back to watching football rather than watching it and going out and playing it.

Have to look at my own approach. Never thought tennis was that dangerous. Well I'll have something to mull over during the next few weeks.

The Shaken

One of the upsides of producing the first two programmes as opposed to doing the sport is the sudden instant expertise that one has to don.

The boy has helped this awareness. Saturday night/Sunday morning was a chucklefest between 2-4am. I think he eventually went to sleep at about 3am ish but I was left more or less wide awake.

Perhaps it was the anxiety of responsibility. Whatever. I listened to the BBC world service and by the time I reawoke I was au fait with lots of things.

Producing is quite compatible with child rearing or at least chilling out with a child with an ear infection.

I have two days off to nurse my calf and attend to my administration. Might even go and see the new Bond film on a matinee. Now that's what I call a treat.

The Strain

It was clearly too much for the system. A night of punctuated sleep and a morning tennis game. I was merrily tripping across the cout when I felt a twinge in my calf. The string of my racquet went in sympathy. And so I have a racquet to repair and a left calf with clear problems.

It was just as well that I had to work this morning. Maybe I was putting too much into the tennis as I knew I wasn't going to be hiking up and down a football field.

Whatever the reasons, I don't think I'll be out there for a couple of weeks. What a shame. Just as the team hit top spot. Just as I felt I was playing well.

I never thought tennis could be that dodgy. Well not the way I play tennis.

Obviously wrong.

The poor night of sleep was due to the boy having an ear infection. During the really bleak period he used to get these once a month but of late has been better.

When he went to the doctors a few weeks ago for a check up, she said that he should go and have his ears checked just to make sure he was OK.

She gave him a jab and said he'll have a fever next week. Sure enough he got a fever and an ear infection. Well at least he won't get something far worse.

In a way I've been afflicted too but it's hard to pull in the sympathy because mine was self inflicted. And I dare say that if something went wrong on a tennis court then it would have gone wrong on a football field.

So at least I saved myself the trip of getting up early and getting injured.

So now it's back to public transport and that means I'll probably catch all kinds of people's splutterings. I was just about to assert that it's much healthier cycling to work. True but then the way people drive I might not play football ever again.