The sight of tv presenter Adrian Chiles, ex-footballers Wrighty and Lee Dixon and the one time England manager Glenn 'you'll suffer for your sins' Hoddle huddled in a corridor while waiting for the expected lightning strike made me chuckle. Live tv at its very best.
The England Honduras game hadn't been going long when the ref hauled the lads off in case an Act of God ruined things. So orf they trudged.
And we, the tired viewers sat watching our tv screens entranced by the Miami sky, heavy with threatening black cloud. "Well I never expected this" I said to Mother and Rob. (Mr Horsehound being out for the evening) And so there we were, the three of us, titillated kind of by two hours of Britain's Got Talent, the winner being Collabro, a male vocal ensemble. Decent enough. But so predictable. I wanted 15 year old James Smith to bag the £250,000 prize. A young guitar playing Essex lad with a weird Dave Clark Five kind of hair style but with a soulful crunch in his voice. Still never mind, he's had exposure, so his life as an ordinary schoolboy who helps out on his dad's market stall will never be the same again. With the right management and right choices he'll learn his craft and succeed.
After a quick natter with Rob about heavy eyes and early morning shenanigans a la mama I decided with a heavy heart to turn off the tv and go to bed. Mother was not amused. But she could see I wasn't in the mood for tantrums so she did what she was told and went to bed nicely.
And as a gentle breeze swirled through my open window making my deep red curtains sway I laid in bed and thought of Roy.
Pacing up and down the corridors of a Miami stadium, his aching-to-play boys sucking on oranges. He must feel awful....
But not as awful as when the ref blew the final whistle because his team walked back tot he dressing rooms with a miserable 0-0 draw under their soggy belts.
Tut tut.
Tennis this afternoon.
From, I hope, a sunny Paris. Rafa Nadal and Novak Djokovic thrashing it out in a five setter I hope. My money is on the Spaniard although I do like Joko, he's funny.
Rafa meanwhile rarely goofs. In that respect he reminds me of yesterday's ladies winner the ever so horrible Maria Sharapova. All is tickety boo with the tall Russian providing she's hammering her opponent. But let the aforementioned opponent give her the run around by bagging a set or two then Ms Sharapova fires such nasty looks across the net it makes all her soft leggy blonde girliness fly right out the window. What a madam.
A commentator said the only thing that gets her up in the morning is her need to win. She doesn't need money, she already has so much, the desire/need to beat the other girls is what she wants most. When she played Eugenie Bouchard the other day, Eugenie being drop dead pretty by the way and a fearsome tennis player, Maria appeared quite distraught that, this gorgeous talented opponent was almost as good as her. And that would never do. The crowd was on the Canadian's side. As was I. I think Ms Bouchard is one to watch...
Now I must fly. The dinner needs attending, the garden needs looking at and Mother is yelling for me to read the scandal regarding Nigel Farage's mistress.
Just another Sunday in the bungalow...
Sunday, 8 June 2014
Saturday, 7 June 2014
Friday, 6 June 2014
After a mucky pain-filled 5:30 am start with mother (believe me YOU DO NOT want to know) I tootled off to see Nursie.
NO MORE LARD
Although I wasn't about to die my cholesterol was borderline high and so a change in diet was suggested.
Cakes will from today be a treat.
Nurse Tasha said I wasn't her usual cardiac case and that my weight was great. But ever so slight alterations MUST be made
I will survive/live/flourish on fish, chicken, pulses, wholegrain. A more Mediterranean diet in fact. And that's fine with me.
And so as Rob, mum and myself watch some great tennis this afternoon from Roland Garros I will munch on flaked mackerel on brown bread.
NO MORE LARD
Although I wasn't about to die my cholesterol was borderline high and so a change in diet was suggested.
Cakes will from today be a treat.
Nurse Tasha said I wasn't her usual cardiac case and that my weight was great. But ever so slight alterations MUST be made
I will survive/live/flourish on fish, chicken, pulses, wholegrain. A more Mediterranean diet in fact. And that's fine with me.
And so as Rob, mum and myself watch some great tennis this afternoon from Roland Garros I will munch on flaked mackerel on brown bread.
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| My past |
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| I know just how you feel matey! |
Thursday, 5 June 2014
England 2 Equador 2. UPDATED
An average performance from England. Poor Oxlade-Chamberlain, injured and probably out of Saturday's match against Honduras. The Equadorians. along with other herberts we've played gave us the runaround and that isn't good for someone like me. A true fan with possibly a dodgy ticker. No, not good at all. But I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Come Saturday Roy Hodgson will have, I'm sure come up with a team suitable to give the Hondurians a jolly good thrashing. Not that I like to see people, especially footballers, maimed but the lads he chooses HAVE to punish regally.
Because if they don't I fear for their mental health as I fear for mine. Imagine if you will, turning up in Brazillllll and coming up against little Italy with three lack lustre matches under ya belt. Hardly inspiring is it? But this is the England team we're talking about, they don't DO easy. They scrape in, scrape by, managing somehow sometimes to crawl through to the latter stages of the biggest tournament on the planet.
England are officially bad for one's health.
But they are loved. Well they are, by me at least.
Back to to the real world...
As we sipped our early morning tea Mum told me that last night she saw her dad.
He had been standing in front of the telly.
His balding head shining. His railway uniform clean and pressed.
He died in 1965.
Pity that...if his heart had held out he'd have see England's Bobby Moore lift the World Cup!
.
Come Saturday Roy Hodgson will have, I'm sure come up with a team suitable to give the Hondurians a jolly good thrashing. Not that I like to see people, especially footballers, maimed but the lads he chooses HAVE to punish regally.
Because if they don't I fear for their mental health as I fear for mine. Imagine if you will, turning up in Brazillllll and coming up against little Italy with three lack lustre matches under ya belt. Hardly inspiring is it? But this is the England team we're talking about, they don't DO easy. They scrape in, scrape by, managing somehow sometimes to crawl through to the latter stages of the biggest tournament on the planet.
England are officially bad for one's health.
But they are loved. Well they are, by me at least.
Back to to the real world...
As we sipped our early morning tea Mum told me that last night she saw her dad.
He had been standing in front of the telly.
His balding head shining. His railway uniform clean and pressed.
He died in 1965.
Pity that...if his heart had held out he'd have see England's Bobby Moore lift the World Cup!
 |
| Vintage Satchel delivered this afternoon. All leather with proper buckle fastenings, none of this press stud magnetic nonsense. |
.
Wednesday, 4 June 2014
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| England's Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain. A good boy. Who, I'm hoping, will stun the Equadorians tonight ( 20:00 hrs our time) in Miami by putting the ball in the net. I don't though mind who scores...A lose against Equador will be too much to handle. |
Oh my giddy aunt how am I going to feel in 8 days time when the lights go on in BRAZILLLLLLL!
Now I must fly mothers calling for a dry sheet.
Waiting waiting and hoping hoping
Andy Murray will be on court at Roland Garros later today hoping to get a step closer to bagging the big prize.
I'm hoping I'll be able to watch some of his match. I say hoping because there's no saying how long I'll be out because there's no saying when I'll be out. Mother you see, is taking her time making up her mind.
Already I've been on the phone hoping to hear that her prescription is ready..no not quite I'll have to wait. And now I'm waiting for my blood test results, hoping all the time for a 'great news' result. In other words shove orf you're as fit as a butcher's dog.
But I need to wait. and while I wait I hope.
As I type mother lies in bed eating her breakfast cereals..
As a result of losing my life to mother I'm doing some pretty wacky things. Take yesterday for example. I ordered a tan leather satchel from the Cambridge Satchel co; Even gone so far as to have my initial ' A' etched into the leather.I now await its delivery.
Talking of deliveries. Mother's over- the -bed table arrived yesterday.
I'd better fly now. Mum needs to be wheeled to the bathroom then, after much splashing and vitriolic verbals back to her bed for more considerations as to what to wear.
You gotta laugh!
I'm hoping I'll be able to watch some of his match. I say hoping because there's no saying how long I'll be out because there's no saying when I'll be out. Mother you see, is taking her time making up her mind.
Already I've been on the phone hoping to hear that her prescription is ready..no not quite I'll have to wait. And now I'm waiting for my blood test results, hoping all the time for a 'great news' result. In other words shove orf you're as fit as a butcher's dog.
But I need to wait. and while I wait I hope.
As I type mother lies in bed eating her breakfast cereals..
As a result of losing my life to mother I'm doing some pretty wacky things. Take yesterday for example. I ordered a tan leather satchel from the Cambridge Satchel co; Even gone so far as to have my initial ' A' etched into the leather.I now await its delivery.
Talking of deliveries. Mother's over- the -bed table arrived yesterday.
I'd better fly now. Mum needs to be wheeled to the bathroom then, after much splashing and vitriolic verbals back to her bed for more considerations as to what to wear.
You gotta laugh!
Monday, 2 June 2014
Aaargh!
After a 15 hour fast I had a blood test but not before being seen Nurse Ratchett. Who, in a very stern way told me in no uncertain terms that I was unsuitably dressed for my ECG.
Oh boy do leave off. Just because I was dressed properly for the weather being clad in tights and petticoat I got evil dagger eyes from the heavily built white haired angel....
Anyway...after the ECG she took it to the doc next door who immediately informed me that I need to go the hospital to see the Heart man.
There's something morbid about the word cardiac. And so after the shock wore off Hairy Suit and I went to the nearest cafe for beans on toast.
I tried to put on a happy face as pop music blared out in the Beehive cafe in South Street but inside I felt doomed.
What was I going to tell Mother?. How much more can I take? And to hell with it it all bring out the cake tin.
As expected mum was cool. Didn't ask much, in fact didn't ask anything! All she wanted was a new blouse and did I pay her rent. She did though grasp my hand when I said my plate was over flowing and that it would help if I had fewer things to worry about. I.E. running her affairs. A blank look.
I told her I would continue to care for her in my over crowded bungalow but that she must give a little. Another blank look.
Things aren't going to change for mum, she will continue to be her usual combative self but things might change for me after I've seen the cardiologist.
On a positive note.
Rafa is doing well at Roland Garros today. And Murray is set to play later this afternoon. So not all is lost.
And Wednesday England play another friendly..
I told you I was an optimist didn't I?
Oh boy do leave off. Just because I was dressed properly for the weather being clad in tights and petticoat I got evil dagger eyes from the heavily built white haired angel....
Anyway...after the ECG she took it to the doc next door who immediately informed me that I need to go the hospital to see the Heart man.
There's something morbid about the word cardiac. And so after the shock wore off Hairy Suit and I went to the nearest cafe for beans on toast.
I tried to put on a happy face as pop music blared out in the Beehive cafe in South Street but inside I felt doomed.
What was I going to tell Mother?. How much more can I take? And to hell with it it all bring out the cake tin.
As expected mum was cool. Didn't ask much, in fact didn't ask anything! All she wanted was a new blouse and did I pay her rent. She did though grasp my hand when I said my plate was over flowing and that it would help if I had fewer things to worry about. I.E. running her affairs. A blank look.
I told her I would continue to care for her in my over crowded bungalow but that she must give a little. Another blank look.
Things aren't going to change for mum, she will continue to be her usual combative self but things might change for me after I've seen the cardiologist.
On a positive note.
Rafa is doing well at Roland Garros today. And Murray is set to play later this afternoon. So not all is lost.
And Wednesday England play another friendly..
I told you I was an optimist didn't I?
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