In Which I Chat About Icelandic Football (though not much on THAT result), A Book Is Read And Updates On Football Cards and Polish Food

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I know this is chatting about this well and truly after the horse has bolted but I'd wanted to do the post about buying Polish food on Tuesday first because of the racist tensions the Brexit result has unleashed. I'm sure I'll be chatting about it again soon but for now football...and Iceland.

As mentioned before I was at work during the England/Iceland game so have only bothered to see the highlights but what really shocked me was not that Iceland won but how inept England were. Before the match I'd told someone at work that whilst I expected England to win it wouldn't have surprised me if they lost either. After all in pre qualifying Iceland came second in a group that included Turkey and the Netherlands and although England had the greatest humiliation they had also humiliated pre tournament dark horses Austria and embarrassed Portugal and Hungary in Euro 2016.

The point is the fact that Iceland played well should not have been a surprise because they have been playing like that for a long time now.

On Friday I'd watched a couple of club matches on the internet to take my mind off the Brexit gloom for a while. The one from the Irish Republic was a dull 0-0 affair (even though it was Shamrock Rovers/Cork City). The Icelandic game though also scoreless was a much livelier affair. I made a mental note to watch another game from this league when the opportunity presented itself. Remember it was before that.game and the chance came a day after that  game where I watched Fylkir FC play against those city slickers Viking Reykjavik

Let me say that I like Icelandic league football. It reminds me of the Welsh Leagues. Part time players, small grounds (no stands behind either goal here) but plenty of enthusiasm. No gloss more heart.

As the first half finished 0-0 the teams seemed about equal in ability to me so it was a shock to discover through google that in a 12 team league the home team were currently bottom with their opponents eighth. Given that they were bottom I was impressed with Fylkir so decided that they, the ones who played in a strip that could only be described as radioactive orange, were going to be the Icelandic team I would support.

So obviously when they win the league no one will describe me as a glory seeker.

In the second half contrary to everything you have been taught or read it was the Vikings who were being stormed  in their area time and time again until eventually Fylkir got the goal they truly deserved. That's how the game finished. My team won. The fightback starts here. You've read it here first... in English anyway.....I think.

I've finished the Marian Keyes novel The Other Side Of The Story. I won't bore you by repeating the superlatives I've been using to describe this. All I will say is that although it wasn't the best book I've read this year it came close.

Of course this means a new book from the Great Unread which is

Ali Smith - The Accidental

This was given out free with The Times Newspaper. Before you wonder whether I've further contributed to Rupert Murdoch's plan for world domination. It was bought in a charity shop for 50p.

The football stickers are progressing slowly. I've got now to a stage where I've more doubles in a packet than new stickers. Haven't yet had the opportunity to try and sort this out but will try to do soon. In the meantime here's the current standings. Remember there is a max of thirty three stickers per team.

Turkey: 18

Switzerland:16
France: 15
Russia: 15
Albania: 13
Spain: 13
Sweden: 13

Wales: 13

Czech Republic: 12
Northern Ireland : 12
Poland: 12
Republic of Ireland : 12
Ukraine: 12
Austria: 10
Hungary: 10
Iceland: 10
Slovakia: 10
Belgium: 9
England: 9
Germany: 9
Romania: 9
Italy: 8
Portugal: 8
Croatia: 6

Finally my wife looked a bit embarrassed when I walked in the house from work yesterday. It transpired that she tried the Jezyki biscuits I bought on Tuesday. She loves them. Seems like the Polish deli is going to be somewhere we'll regularly visit when in Bridgend Town from now on. I'm going to try them tomorrow afternoon (Friday) when I intend to spend an hour on the Get started in Polish book.

Until the next time.

In Which I Shopped Polish

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well I won't say it was a spur of the moment thing, the thought actually occurring to me on Sunday but today I had the day off and needed to go to Bridgend Town to pay a bill at the bank. But after having done that a few doors along the same street there is a Polish delicatessen, (one of the two in the town) and for the first time ever I went inside.

There was a demonstration in support of the EU in Cardiff this evening which I couldn't attend. So decided that today I was going to make a smaller gesture. I was going to shop Polish.

I've said before that gestures are emotional. Buying a few goods from the local deli is not marching with other right minded people about the darkness that has begun to descend on the United Kingdom.As a tweet I saw quite rightly said. The vast majority of people who voted for Brexit are not racists. But they have unwittingly begun to unleash upon the nation people who use it as an excuse to commit racist acts.

So as well in my faltering way learning Polish I wanted to shop in a Polish delicatessen. As if to say, I have no problems with people emigrating to Britain. I will in my very little way support a business in a town which has declined and many shops have closed I would argue from the neglect of the Labour council and Welsh assembly (that is the Labour party that is disintegrating as we speak before our very eyes). I will not ignore.

And so I went in.

It was a small shop, but at first glance well stocked with various food and drink. The first question was of course what to get? Instantly I knew that certain things should automatically be crossed off even if they were in Polish as they were just versions of groceries you can get in Britain. So bottles of Pepsi and Lays crisps (ie Walkers in the UK) wouldn't be bought. And besides Pizza crisps? Oh no.

It had also an impressive fresh meat and a cheese selection. If this was the weekend I'd have been tempted to have given them a go. But it was a grey (soon to be very wet) Tuesday and I knew that if I'd had bought them today they wouldn't have been eaten until Saturday. So they were given a miss.

Eventually bought four items:

The Polish Shop

Taking each item from top left Deserowe seems to be a sort of biscuit sprinkled with sugar. Hopefully it's the sort you can dip into a hot drink. 

The magazine is one for toddlers. I'd thought that learning the language as I am it seemed like a good idea at the time to buy a magazine like this. However at £6.35 (!) I feel now that I might have made a mistake buying it in my enthusiasm. We shall see.

Goralaki  (by the way I don't know how to do the Polish accents on the computer yet) on the right is a chocolate wafer bar. The chocolate is one I've never tasted before but not only did I like it but so did my wife. Definitely buying this again.

Jezyki are milk coated chocolate biscuits with caramel, hazelnuts,raisins and rice crisps. I know this because I've googled it. I bought it because it said "classic" on the packaging in my hope that it's a classic Polish biscuit. Haven't tried it yet.

Leaving aside the magazine it cost me roughly two pound sixty six which was not unreasonable given that it had been sent from Poland.

Next time I'm in Bridgend Town will go into the other Polish deli. And from now on when I'm in the town will buy something from one of the two. 

A gesture. I know it is.But I'll not  walk away from the racism that this vote has brought.

I will not ignore.

Until the next time.

In Which I Begin Learning Polish.

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well it appears that working on the Monday afternoon/evening shift during Euro 2016 does have a silver lining after all being that I missed England's defeat by Iceland. Though as I understood things so did the English players.

Anyway the morning was spent doing a bit of the household chores,having a bath, getting ready for work but also for the first time spending half an hour going through the Get Started In Polish book I mentioned last week (which I forgot to mention is written by Joanna Michalak-Gray).

Earlier in the morning started to listen to Polish radio. Not expecting anything but curious. The station was PR1 Jedynka. What did I learn? Obviously vocabulary wise nothing other than "Brexit" though I think I caught "fascist" also. Conversation seemed to be at a slightly faster pace than normal ( except for the news when suddenly things seemed to go into hyper drive) but that's probably because I'm not yet used to hearing Polish spoken regularly.

After loud heavy metal music that I would have switched off in any language there was another discussion about Brexit. The only word I understood of course being Brexit.

Anyway to the half hour with the book. As it happened it was like the first day at school where certain rules are laid down and you're told where to go. Only in this case the author was saying what we should do to help us further.

The first suggestion was twenty-thirty minutes worth of lessons a day. For me for a whole gamut of reasons that's just impractical. My plan is to concentrate as much as I can two days a week then see how things are progressing.

Then I'm told I should listen to radio or television programmes. I got you there Joana. Radio has been blasting. TV? No such luck. Try as I may I haven't been able to watch anything in Polish as I've been blocked with words to say that they cannot show the content outside of Poland. A pity. Because as I think I've said before when I started learning Welsh watched programmes in that language intensely, particularly pre school and sports as I'd have some idea as to what was going on.

The other suggestion I want to mention is to follow blogs on people learning Polish. is to follow blogs about people doing this. I googled this only to discover that in the main it's linked to people flogging language lessons."Get your first lesson free!" or variations on this theme I noticed from those who for all I knew might have more in common with Warrington than Warsaw. All of them suggesting that Polish is the hardest language to learn and that I needed their help for a fee. For the moment not for me.

Many more suggestions. Most of them obvious then finally to some actual teaching and the biggest shock of all. The "audio" facility of this book is unavailable on my tablet,my kindle and even on my PC! For the moment I'm making do with what a word sounds like by going online. But it's not easy. What I've learnt is than pronouncing a Polish word as if it was in an English alphabet would cause even more laughter to a Pole than last night's England result.

The first word I've learnt? Przepraszam (Pronounced "Psheprashaam")which is Polish for excuse me.

Whilst I had lunch before going to work I watched the second episode of the Polish TV series The Border (with English subtitle)s. Think I've just noticed the Polish for the F word and the C word. I don't expect to be that fluent. At least not for the moment.

Until the next time.

In Which Amongst The Gloom There's Always Football And Why Breaking In a New Shirt Reminds Me To Make a Belated Apology To Denmark

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So I wake up at 6:09am in the morning and as I turn the TV on I discover the beginnings of a Labour party coup where senior figures start to turn on their leader and resign from their opposition posts. An incompetently handled Labour coup from people who rather start a civil war than try to deal with the disunited kingdom that the referendum has produced. And you wonder why as an Englishman decided to join Plaid Cymru.

But anyway. There's always the football. Let's forget about the Euro referendum and watch Euro 2016 instead......oh.

A quick note about England's match tomorrow against Iceland. The most ironic thing about that game is that even if the English fans acted like choirboys Europe will still want them beaten by Iceland even though it's not in the EU. Football can throw things like that up sometimes.

Anyway there were three matches to watch and was looking forward to doing this marathon having missed yesterday's games and knowing I'd miss tomorrow's ones because of work.

First turned out to be Republic of  Ireland vs France. A match that apparently the Observer Book of cliches was acting as co-commentator on ITV. The commentary had even more bizarre moments. After he took a free kick we were informed that Pogba "has powerful thighs". For a moment there I thought I was watching a different sort of channel. The sort which broadcasts after midnight and needs a pin number to watch it......or so I'm told.

It went surreal. Discussing the Irish (and West Ham reserve) goalkeeper the commentary said "Darren Randolph's left hand upright"......whatever that means.

The Republic scored first, with a penalty from a foul that was so obvious no French player argued with the referee.

Unfortunately for the Irish in the second  half France reacted with two quick goals and a sending off . A French victory then. And you know what? I wanted France to win. Because we all know that had they lost the Daily Mail and definitely The Sun would have used the headline FREXIT.

So to the next game Germany Slovakia. This was the only game where I had a football shirt in my collection to wear for the first time. It was this.

Germany

As you know by now I'm not the sort of collector that gets something and hides it away forever more. If I collected toy trains they wouldn't be kept in a box. They'd be used as nature and Mr Hornby intended. So as I had a shirt for Germany wear it I did. Of course this was the reason why they beat Slovakia 3-0 in a match that seemed more of a training session than a competitive game. They don't have to thank me.

The final match was Belgium Hungary. Belgium won 4-0 but they only really were dominant in the latter stages of the second half. They now face Wales as favourites. Which I think for Wales is a good thing as the hopes of a nation but not the pressure of expectation will be on them.

One more thing. Hungary had a player called Pinter. Who I assumed played cultured football and was the caretaker of their defence. Hope there wasn't a drama when he got substituted.

Wearing the shirt of a team in my collection has never seemed to effect the performance of the team in question. With one exception. That of Denmark.

I had bought this shirt in I think 2008 for £10. Promptly it was put onto a hanger and then to the wardrobe never to see the light of day again.......until 2010.

I rather like this shirt. It's simple,unfussy and has the colours of the Danish flag on it. You don't get the feeling that it has been given to a designer who was on drugs the night before.

Denmark

Anyway as I said we fast forward to 2010. It's the World Cup in South Africa. The last matches are being held in group stage of the tournament. Denmark are facing Japan. For the first time since it was bought it there's a logical opportunity for wearing the shirt and that's what was done.

Well, not wishing to appear pompous and patronising let me say that I have of course seen Asian teams beat European sides before and after this particular game. But it was the first match that I'd ever seen where the Asian side dominated almost from start to finish. Japan won by three goals to one, The Danish goal being a a late penalty scored I think by John Arne Thomasson.

So clearly the reason for this defeat was that I, whose closeness to Denmark recently was when we visited Legoland in Windsor a few years back wore the shirt. Somehow I'd cursed them. So the shirt wasn't worn again.....until last year.

Denmark were playing Portugal in a qualifying game for Euro 2016. As I recall both sides needed a win to be assured of coming to France. It was a dull game it has to be said. Portugal did not dominate the Danes in the way that Japan had all those years earlier. Yet the curse came back to haunt me again. For although Denmark only lost by one goal to nil, that goal at no stage in the play was touched by Ronaldo. A Portuguese goal where Ronaldo's not involved? Surely not? But that is what happened and obviously I was responsible.

So people of Denmark I'm sorry. I'll try not to do it again. Honest.

Until the next time.

My Day With Marian

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Before I chat about Saturday one quick postcript about yesterday's post. As I explained I'm not going to start learning Polish until Monday as it will be the first day I will have time to myself. Having said that this (Saturday) morning I stumbled on a Polish series on the foreign language on demand service of Channel 4.

The show is called The Border. It's about Polish border guards as they stop criminal gangs trying to bring illegal immigrants entering their country, That you must think is ironic in so many levels.

Saturday was a day I had to go to work in the afternoon/evening shift. Again I've been unlucky in the sense that for this tranche of games in Euro 2016 (Saturday,Sunday, Monday) the only day I'm not working is Sunday. Not only that but the teams I want to do well.England. Italy and Wales are/were not playing on that day. If there are such things as football gods they're mocking me right now.

Wales were playing to reach the quarter finals of the tournament against Northern Ireland. Earlier in the morning national rugby team had faced New Zealand. The rugby and the football teams were playing on the same day but again it was the football team that had most of the attention, indeed even more so than the beginning of the month as there was a chance of going into the quarter finals. Really unless the Welsh Rugby Union pulls its socks up the slow decline of the sport here will seep into the national game. Something no one would have believed possible even five years ago.

Whatever my failings as a husband in the DIY department I come into my own in being able to grab an internet stream of sporting occasions to watch from around the world and at 8:30am had got the rugby game ready for my wife to watch. Must admit from time to time I peaked at the laptop and it was pretty awful for the team in red. Seen from my admittedly unknowledgeable eyes it moved from men vs men to men vs boys to men vs infants. Even she could not watch it to the end. It was like having arsenic through your eyes.

So anyway to work. In the two previous games where I've been working whilst Wales have been playing the days were less busy but busier than I had expected. This time though it would be almost dead. Good thing I'd brought a book with me. Of the four on the go at the moment today it would be The Other Side Of The Story by Marian Keyes.

It would have been a long day had this book been dull. Thankfully the skills she has that I'd remembered from Sushi For Beginners were also on show here. The ability to be able to say deep things but in a humorous way, believable female characters that are not dependent on men but not at war with them either, living lives that you can as a reader get involved in.

I'd read 361 pages that day. In a lot of books that would have been occasion for a pat on the back and a look at the great unread to see what's next to go for. But not with a Marian Keyes book oh no. About two thirds of the way through.

As I've mentioned before. I believe she's an underrated writer who has lost male readers who would genuinely appreciate what she writes about if it wasn't for being put off by the chick lit covers of her books. Still this male reader was grateful that what could have been a dull working day was alleviated by this novel and after yesterday when a majority of a disunited kingdom voted to bring us into the dark ages she raised a smile to my face.

For that alone. Thankyou Marian Keyes.

Until the next time.

So The Dark Ages Begin......I'll start Learning Polish Now

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Woke up sometime between 5:30 - 6 in the morning. Outside was rather bright. Once I turned the TV on however I knew that the dark ages had come. For the result of the referendum was clear. Leave has won. Brexit begins.

A few hours later. Cameron comes out and says he will resign as Prime Minister in October to be spend more time with his money. For the moment at least, Britain. Britain is on the brink of being controlled by people some of whom at least seem to be a few jackboots short of a Sieg Heil.

Needless to say I'd voted Remain yesterday. But as I mentioned in my earlier post on the referendum a few weeks back I said that if the vote was to leave then immigration would be the reason. For as I said at the time nothing furthers the far right more than the perception of rampant unfettered swathes of people coming from "abroad" no matter how far from the reality that is..

Most who voted to leave the EU because of immigration are not racists . They are good people with genuine concerns fanned by Leave campaigners that the Remain side seemed unable to properly address. If there was one error of the group that wanted to stay, it was that.

It does not surprise me that the majority of people in Wales voted to leave. People have been fed propaganda of foreigners from Eastern Europe coming over to take British people's jobs, sponging on welfare / National Health Service and as Romania was part of it this "influx" sucking on people's blood during the night hours (Ok I lied about that but the atmosphere that developed through the referendum was so toxic you would not have been surprised if somebody mentioned it).

In Bridgend (that also had a majority of leave voters) there is a Polish community. People who have come and settled here, work hard,pay their taxes, opened and sustained  a couple of deli shops in Bridgend Town. (which for reasons I've explained in the past is no mean feat) integrated with the local community and yet now they I suspect feel venerable because of the picture painted (on a UK level) about them.

(Just to quickly go back to Wales. I've read a scenario which basically works like this. Scotland has a second referendum and goes independent. Wales sees Scotland become successful as an independent nation and becomes discontented as a right wing Conservative majority helped by an ineffective Labour opposition inflicts austerity on the nation as a result of an economic decline because of Brexit. This anger grows to such an extent that Wales votes for independence using the same arguments that Brexiters used in the referendum ("We want our country back" etc) and returns to the the EU. I can see that scenario panning out. Trouble is it will take many years and there'll be misery for the people during this period)

So then I live in a United Kingdom where the only certainty is uncertainty. A group of nations that is hardly united and a people not at ease with itself. "May you live in interesting times" is a Chinese curse. It seems that life in Britain is going to be very interesting indeed.

So what will I do? For the moment there is nothing I can do other than support Plaid Cymru as best as I can. For in Wales there is potentially through independence a way out of the darkness as in Scotland who will clearly lead the way. In England though there seems to be no obvious path especially as the Labour party seems to have picked this moment to take the knives out for Jeremy Corbyn. Labour and Conservatives in disarray. Synchronised incompetence. Trouble is the Tories are the ones in power.

The only other thing is a gesture. No more than that but here we go......I'm going to start to learn Polish. Why? Well to be honest I'm not sure. Gestures are moments of feeling and not planning. Perhaps it's a way of saying that I too believe in the free movement of people, perhaps because I believe in the European ideal, perhaps it's just to a group who deserve as a people an apology. Though I suspect that as the years go on it will be they who will feel sorry for people in the UK who believed in the EU like me.

A gesture

Will start slowly this is just as you see an ebook for beginners. I'll work on it and will try it out once I feel I've a hold, however tenuous.

What with that and resuscitating learning Welsh, having four books on the go and of course football. All this whilst being husband and dad. Multitasking is not normally my thing (I'm a man) but I will seriously try here. Somehow I feel it's important.

Until the next time.

The Mystery Of The Suburban Locked Door

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Whatever my attributes in life, and that is for others to judge, one thing that I would have to accept is that I am useless in turning my hand (or rather both of them) to DIY.

There are two reasons for this. One is my sheer natural talent for laziness, which if I believed in a deiety I'd consider god given. The silver medal at least for slothness should be my reward for a lifetime of dedication to the craft.

The other though lies in history. My father, a man who if I reach half his talents and inate goodness would make me a great person indeed worked as a painter and decorator. Although a pleasant enough job in the summer as soon as the seasons went darker it also turned much colder. Many of the houses/offices he worked in did not have any heating and I would remember as a child he would come home with his skin feeling like ice.

The point is that was the reason I was never encouraged to take up any trade as he wanted me to work somewhere permantly warm. So a basic knowledge of painting,plumbing etc passed me by. I'd be lying though if I said I really cared for it anyway..

Relatively recently the wife (with the support of our daughter) has said she wants to move to Penarth to be closer to her work and family. The forty minute early morning journeys were also beginning to wear her out.

Although perfectdly happy where we are now,I owe her more than she will ever realise and so as long as there are no financial issues I'm not going to stand in her way.

The estate agent was called to put an estimate on the house and advise us on any improvements. Estimate she did. Advise she did. And one of the pieces of estately advice she gave was to deal with the question of the locked door. And when I say "deal" I mean "get it unlocked".

It is a door leading from the kitchen to the dining room,or vice versa. To get to either room now you would have go through the hall and through the living ...or vice versa. This is what is called a suburban inconvinience.

It had become "locked" a few months back when in a fit of teenage exuburance our daughter slammed the door only to find that it would not open again. I tried at the time to deal with it but to no avail and we all just shrugged our shoulders and ignored it. After all in suburbia a dining room is the most rarely used place in the house. Just really a place for show.

Now however the future of the South Walian property chain appears to hang on this door. So there is the need to try and unlock it again. A suburban inconvinience had changed into a suburban crisis.

Now the mystery is this. It should not lock. There are no titanium bolts to a top security kitchen (trust me if there were any secrets we'd sell them to the highest bidder.....for charity of course), or any antique dining room table that some millionire collector is pining for. It's just a door that should open and close through the use of that revolutionary of objects, a handle.

But locked it is, A suburban inconvinience has changed into a suburban crisis wrapped in a suburban mystery.

So try and solve it I did.I brought in tools from the garage. Tools that are rarely used in a garage mainly frequented to take out stuff from a freezer. But still the illusion of me as man of artisan action had begun.

I began by unscrewing the door handles. The handles coneccted to a horizontal metal thing that was locking the door. There is a hole in the middle to link it to another metal thing where the door handles connect together when turned. Yet though that bit turns, crucially the horizontal metal thing to the door doesn't.

This I think is part of  Doors for Dummies

The Mysterious White Door - After I Took The Handles Off

I squirt the magic Potteresque spray that is WD-40 at every possible crevice in the inside of this door. Forgotten to do this the last time. Worked when the garden door got rusty.

Not this time.

I tried butter....that didn't work. Indeed if anybody was in the room at the time they would have probably been rolling around in laughter and would have mocked me by asking for toast.

I resorted to trying to pull the horizontal metal thingy with pliers. That thing should move easily when prompted. That's how unlocked doors work.

Not this time.

The tools of the trade....just not mine

Eventually I gave up. Two hours of blood sweat spray and butter resulted in absolutely nothing. Zip. Nada.Besides the football was on.

Will have to call an expert.

I am man. See me fail.

Until the next time.

On Poetry And Football

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well I've finished (presumably thanks to my wait in the Bar and Grill on Sunday) Poetry Of The Thirties edited by Robin Skelton. It was the first poetry book I'd read for decades and I had forgotten that you have to read these books slooowly so that every word and meaning is captured. In the beginning there was a great deal of rereading so that there was a better chance of understanding what was being written.

Even so most of the poetry made me just mentally shrug my shoulders. As if I was saying, "is that all there is"? The vast majority of verse in this book aroused me to a state of depressed boredom.

There were, of course exceptions. John Betjeman reminded me why I liked him all those years ago. And if someone offered me a volume of the poetry of Lewis MacNeice I wouldn't be sniffy about it. On the other hand I really,really didn't like W H Auden.

And then there was Dylan Thomas. I don't want to read another Dylan Thomas poem again. I want to listen to them. He was the only poet where that thought occurred to me.

The next "car book" is this.

Clive James - Glued to the Box

This is the third volume of his TV critism between 1979 -1982. Should be fun.

So to the evening's football. It was the first opportunity since the Euro 2016 tournament began that I had the opportunity to wear this.

England

The wife watched the Wales game against Russia whilst I watched England Slovakia. Clearly she had the better time than I did with the dragons winning 3-0 and being top of their group. Although she did ask after eighty minutes why the game hadn't finished. I explained that it was football.....not rugby.Still genuinely was pleased for Wales. I've said before that in my view football was the bigger club sport here and if they continue to do well then that might be the case at a national level as well. And the Welsh Rugby Union would only have themselves to blame.

For me despite the ITV "Brexit" commentary - everything England did was good against weak Slovakia - England were disappointing. Slovakia just dug in, having obviously checked the durability of their Puma football shirts first.

Their goalkeeper seemed to follow the lead of his Swiss counterpart yesterday. Dressed luminously suggesting he too would be cycling back to his base afterwards.

But the commentary. "England fans are staying with their team" was one gem. What did he expect them to do? Suddenly support Austria? We also know the power of words. Slovakia were like "a boxer on the ropes" according to Glenn Hoddle. Had that been England then words like "disciplined" or "dogged" would have be used.

Will always believe....but was not encouraged.

Until the next time.

In Which I've A Delayed Father's Day,Claim History With A Poetry Book,Dismiss Civilization,The Best Marian Keyes Book Cover Ever Plus Harry Potter And Football

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So it's 7am in the morning and I'm already downstairs watching a recording of Friday's baseball match between the Seattle Mariners and the team I support the Red Sox. Wasn't happy because they were losing 7-2. I was also bothered by the high level of twittering this early in the day. Couldn't those birds just fly off and be nosey somewhere else?

Then I hear familiar but unusual footsteps for this time of the day on a weekend walk down the stairs. It was my daughter.

"Daaad" she asked. In that tone I know too well meaning that she wants something. "Can I have the Ipad?"

The night before (actually the morning 1am) I'd caught her using her Ipad in be and confiscated it. Whilst not regretting giving it to her for Christmas a few years back (let's face facts other kids have it so it would damage her to be without one) there are moments when I wonder whether we should send her to hospital to have it surgically removed from her hands.

"No" I reply. To which she turned on her heels and walked back upstairs.

There was I then waiting for my daughter to come down with Father's Day gifts. No returning sounds were forthcoming. Five,ten then fifteen minutes passed. So up the stairs I went.

My daughter had gone back to sleep.

Eventually when properly awake two hours later she did come down bearing gifts. Everything then was alright with the world....for a while anyway.

Being Father's Day I had control of lunch. Decided on a takeaway from a relatively new American style Bar and Grill place near where we live purely on the grounds that we'd never tried it before.

So once I'd gone there. Given and paid for the order. sat and waited for it to be ready. Whilst waiting read the Thirties poetry anthology to pass the time. Therefore I claim to be the first person to read a book of poetry in an American Style Bar and Grill. My place in history is now assured.

Evidence

Finished Civilisation by Clive Bell. Well that was a waste of time. Just a load of waffle to prove to me that he didn't know the difference between Civilisation and Civilised. And when you find some races called "barbaric" and "savages" you get the idea of the author's frame of mind.

Still that means that a new book is needed and it's this.

Number 24 - Marian Keyes - The Other Side Of The Story

An explanation first. To celebrate Penguin's 70th anniversary they brought out a series of modern books but in the style of the original 1935 covers. Hence that is why this book is covered the way it is.

I have a theory, born out of no research whatsoever,that one of the reasons why some female writers of "general" novels don't seem to have a large male readership is because of their book covers. Marian Keyes is a good example of this.

Many years ago I was on holiday in Italy. I'd finished reading the books I brought with me and was looking for another English book to read (shamefully my Italian exists but with the vocabulary of a stumbling two year old). So going into this shop and noticing the group of used paperbacks on offer the only one that was in English was Marian Keyes' novel Sushi For Beginners.

Now if I was in Wales would avoided this book like a car crash. If I had the temerity to have picked it up subconsciously then the swirly lettering, the cartoon figures, the bright colours, the blurb would have been screaming at me.

"What are you doing looking at this? This is not for you. You're a man. Go back to your beer and football". 

I know that you can't judge a book by its cover. But when you pick a book up you have a short timespan to decide whether to buy it or not. The cover suggested another modern Pride and Prejudice chick lit tome, that it was not for me. But, in Italy at that time it was the only one available. So, reluctantly I bought it.

Well I was blown away by how good it was. Funny, witty and indeed deep it was the most surprising thing I'd read that year. The main characters were female. but the men were not either quasi Mr Darcys or evil knuckle scraping types whose sole job in life was to do down women. These were real people. The icing on the cake was that the author had the same contemptuous view of Barney the Dinosaur.

Marion Keyes is a good writer and it was only through circumstance that I'd realised it.

The weather was pouring most of  day so my wife and daughter suggested we watch the first Harry Potter movie, Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone. Without any afternoon football to protect me I reluctantly said yes.

I have studiously avoided the Harry Potter novels in my life. agreeing with the late comedienne Linda Smith that adults who read children's books for their own pleasure are odd and in some cases creepy. I feel as well that when adults do this they're invading into territory they should avoid. Children should have things they call their own.

But here we are, a wet weekend in Wales and I'm watching the movie. I feel as if arriving late for a party not wanting to attend in the first place. What did I think of it? Absolutely nothing, perfectly neutral. But, I am a fifty two year old man, these books were not designed for me and please believe when I say I won't be dressing up in a wizard's costume anytime soon.

And so to the football. Two matches on in exactly the same time. France/Switzerland and the match no UKIP supporter will see Romania/Albania. I watch each match 15 mins at a time. It seemed to work fine. Didn't miss the only goal of the two games from Albania. Nor did I miss the rippable quality of the Swiss football shirt. Glad I don't have that in my collection.

One final thing. The Swiss goalkeeper was dressed in a colour best described as a luminous yellowy green. I assumed he was cycling back to their base after the game.

Anyway.

Until the next time.

People Of Laleston: The Dirty,Smelly Ripped Jeaned Man Who Bought Two Books At Your Fete Was Me...Sorry

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So I wake up early in the morning. My day is mapped out. Mow that jungle outside,go to the undercover tip that is Thygeston, watch three matches from Euro 2016. Few days are so easily planned.

The first thing to do though  is to get an internet stream ready so that the wife can watch the second rugby test between New Zealand and Wales. At the same time she wanted the television left on so she'd see the return of the British astronaut Tim Peake from that space station doing whatever it is astronauts do to justify not giving it to the poor in the world.

My wife: Woman,Welsh, Multitasker.

So whilst she does this I, being a man concentrate on just one task being the grass. Interrupted just the once when my daughter comes out shouting "It's amazin".

I look confused.

"Tim Peake's landed".

All that gets from me is a shrug. Partly for the reason sarcastically given above, but also because I don't understand all the media attention for the second Briton in space. Not as if he's gone to Mars. Anyway Brexit or no Brexit it's going to be a long time before another UK citizen gets up there again so am not interested.

Otherwise the mowing is done. It takes a while but it's done. Less obstacles now except that my wife decided to put the washing out hence I had to avoid sheets, towels and assorted garments hitting my face. Being mugged by lemony freshness. Still it's done.

Black bags full of garden was placed into the mighty Kia and off I went to Thygeston. 12:30. Key time was 2pm as that's when the first match, Belgium v Republic of Ireland started.

Now on the short journey to the tip I have to pass the village of Laleston. A pleasant affluent place though not immune from austerity. It's pub being boarded up for years now. It's most prominent landmark is the local church...which today had a fete. I've been there before and knew there would be a book stall. So the decision was made. Do the tip and when finished make a quick trip to the church.

It was one o'clock. One hour to football.

So remember I'd just finished mowing the grass and had been to the tip.I was at that moment at my most desirable. My hair felt it had a few South Walian insects in it. Was dirty and smelling of dead garden. Wearing a yellow faded Pittsburgh Steeler T shirt decorated with the evergreen grass of Bridgend. Garden jeans. in the fashionably ripped style borne of the unfashionableness of age. Sure I exuded the pinnacle of male sexuality. I would have to repel any advances. I'm married and anyway there were three football matches to watch.

This was the sight the middle aged woman behind the bookstall beheld as I approached the book stall. She would just have to control herself.

"How much are the books?" I asked.

"Three paperbacks for a £1 or two hardbacks for a pound" came the response.

Looking at what was available knew I was going to be difficult, Because there were only two books I wanted to buy.Of course one of them was a hardback and the other was a paperback. Enquring of the price brought about a discussion between the middle aged woman and her friend and her friend. What the word is for a group of such ladies I don't know.

Eventually a price of 80p was agreed upon. Fine.  A pound was produced.

"Sorry" she said in an apologetic tone that only women in a church environment can muster "we don't have any change."

Yeah right.

But I didn't have the time or the inclination to argue so gave the pound and walked away.

The two books I bought were as follows:

J B Priestley - Time and the Conways and Other Plays

This is in the light green spined Penguin Twentieth Century Classics series. One of the plays is An Inspector Calls/ I remember once many years ago in East London being alone at home on a Friday afternoon being taken by radio adaptation of it. And when I mean taken I mean stopping whatever I was doing in the kitchen and just sitting down to listen to it. That's the power it had.

The other book, an absolute brick of a hardback was:

Well it speaks for itself

The only reason why I bought this book was only the day before I'd watched an interview he gave at the Hay festival promoting the third volume. This of course is the first.

So these two books for a pound. Bargain. Or as they say in Cardiff Barrgain, I mentioned this detour and purchases to the wife on my return. Let's say she was unimpressed.

Half past one: A quick wash of body and hair, so that any insects were evicted then football took over the rest of the day.

Belgium beat Republic of Ireland 3-0. With Lukaku scoring two. Causing me to think that there are two Lukaku's playing alternate games. One rubbish and the other world class. Which all means I don't fancy their chances against Sweden.

Iceland drew with Hungary 1-1. Good , They both have been the successful underdogs so far. Fingers crossed.

Finally the red swarm of Portugal drew with Austria 0-0. Portugal did everything but score. That included Ronaldo hitting the post from a penalty, My theory is simple. Portugal have been cursed by an old gypsy woman.

Austria were a dull team. A good thing. After all history has taught us we should always be wary of lively Austrians.

So again to the Lalestonians wherever you are now apologies for my appearence

Until the next time,

When Suddenly It Does Not Matter

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So it's Thursday afternoon and I'm at work. Resigned to not watching or listening to the game, THAT game. England vs Wales.

Two pm and I'm expecting to do hardly anything for the next two hours. Have a small bottle of mineral water and just read a book. Today that book being the 1975 autobiography of Muhammad Ali, The Greatest.

The music coming out is from the speakers is a pop music station. So it has the effect of mugging my ears. There is news though. I catch bits but not of what I expected. The match has gone down the pecking order. The top story is that a Member of Parliament has been attacked.

From those bits  the MP is in hospital. You assume recovering. I carry on working. The music for those much younger than me returns.

Work in the next two hours turns out to be less busy than normal but busier than I had expected. Due I suspect to the stupid 2pm start time.

The Muhammad Ali book surprised me by beginning with a defeat. The time in April 1973 when he lost to Ken Norton. I remember the day well. Was a page boy at a wedding as I was a cousin to the bride that I've not spoken to in years (nothing to do with moving to Wales - everything to do with family disputes). It was at the subsequent wedding reception watching TV with the adults sometime between ten and midnight. Being awake at midnight for a nine year old is exciting anytime but I was awake watching an Ali fight. No school the next day. Can life get any better than this?

And yet he lost. And to Ken who? A defeat in sports can be crushing when you're a young fan, not infected by worldly cynicism.

(Incidentally that wasn't the only sporting event I watched at that reception. Earlier, much earlier, I'd seen the Grand National won by Red Rum. For me personally it's memorable because it's the only horse race that I can tell you who came second. It was a horse called Crisp. The reason why I remember it is that in the final stages it had such a massive lead over Red Rum you could have started a small holding with the gap. Yet catch up Red Rum did. Didn't understand it then, still don't now).

The other point, thinking about this now, is that with all the talk of violence on the television screens affecting children no one ever made this point about boxing. The idea of watching men (and at that time it was men) battering themselves was family entertainment at that time.

Anyway the book is a page turner. I'm gripped. Will chat properly once I've finished.

At a quarter past three I'm chatting to a woman. She tells me it's 1-1. Wales scored first then "the English" equalised. Obviously not a moment to tell her I'm English.

Sometime after quarter to three I hear two men chatting. "last minute winner........Sturridge". Then with diplomacy that makes English football fans loved the world over they high five. Later I learn they're off to Nottingham.That doesn't surprise me.

So England win but only just. Both teams still have a good chance of qualifying into the next round. Which is fine by me.

Then I hear the news properly.

The MP, Jo Cox, was not just attacked but was shot and stabbed in Birstall near the library. Worst than that at five o'clock it's announced that she has died.

A horrifying event then in a small town in the most domestic of settings in broad daylight.

And I when I learn much later details of her life on TV, a loving family life, a political career, her charity work you get the sense of a life as an unfinished novel. Because of her sudden death we have been robbed of an ending that would have been much different. I suspect that's the case for those who lost their lives in Orlando as well.

So football is important. Reading is important. But most of all...most of all....choose life.

Until the next time.

In Which A Book Leads Me To Why Being A Teetotal Atheist Doesn't Help My Social Life, Welsh Rugby At Its Lowest And My Hatred Of Dr Pepper

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well Euro 2016 has taken a break for the next few days. The last couple of games were great with Hungary beating Austria and Iceland drawing with Ronaldugal. Underdogs doing well. That's what I want to see.

As you can guess by now I'm back at work. And I'll be at work today for THAT game. Must admit glad to be missing that one and that work will distract me. That said, not sure will be feeling the same way when it actually happens.

Well have finished Sundog by Jim Harrison. As you may know I try my best not to talk about the plot of the books I read,especially fiction, as not to spoil anything for the reader. But this is a book not easy to describe if I did tell you.

Having read my first ever book by this author I'm clearly now a world renowned expert and was trying to think of a perfect description of this novel, which I liked. The first thing that came to my mind that he was an acquired taste. That though suggested snobbery. As if to say I can reach literary Nirvana but you just have to settle for James Patterson (plus 1 other) but I'm that type of guy. It's that type of person who says they can appreciate a particular wine from a remote region in Bolivia that you can only reach by Llama.

That though was quickly discarded.....what do I know about wine? I don't drink.

Rather like my position on poetry my attitude to alcohol is based on a very mundane reason. Not for me any moral/religious issue. And I don't mind moderately letting myself go. No. it's quite simply that from beer to brandy,wine to whiskey I just don't like the taste.

I get it from my mother. She didn't drink for exactly the same reason although she does like to put vino in her minestrone soup which would make me remark that she liked being drunk in her food (untrue but it raises a smile).

Though not being the most sociable of people I do know that if I would've made many more friends had I been more partial to drink. I could have spent my Saturdays slumped on a wall telling some stranger I really loved them.

I remember once going to a pub in Cardiff watching a (then) five nations rugby game in the late nineties with my wife (then girlfriend) her brother his partner and their friends. Wales was playing ...somebody else ...but not England and it was as I remember an unimportant game in terms of the championship. Wales I seem to remember were at their lowest ebb. It seemed to have been personified by the fact that their poster boy was a man called Arwel Thomas. Small, with an angelic innocent face he was always looked like a man who joined the game after a spell of choir practice. All very laudable of  course, but when linked with rugby just seemed out of place.

As I recall Welsh rugby was not impressive at that time. The one exception being Llanelli, (not the Scarlets you understand. This was before WRU decide that teams should go all NFL). If you listen to English coaches and players interviewed you'll hear a tone about that team which you wouldn't hear if they spoke of any other aspect of Welsh rugby at that time. That tone was one of respect.

Anyway back to the pub. I don't remember the result and wish drink was the cause. All I remember was my future brother in law prending to take off his trousers and everybody having a good time...except me.

The year after the group (including me) went to a Wales / Ireland game (behind the posts too far away to appreciate anything). Afterwards at a pub I was approached by a tall bearded irishman who saw me nursing a glass of orange juice and said in a friendly tone. "Why don't you just get pissed?". And of course he was right. I was at the wrong place and definitely at the wrong time.

Being an athiest the social circle for the teetotal (religion) is also out of my reach.....ah well.

Until recently I would drink any soft drink going instead. The one exception was Doctor Pepper which my tastebuds would react to as if it had tasted bleach. Their advertising slogan seemed odd too. "Doctor Pepper. So Misunderstood." What sort of  slogan was that? That's a slogan for a disgraced politician trying for a comeback.

This book then is a ramble (like this post) but nor rambling (which I hope this post wasn't). Perhaps then the best thing to say is that you have to be in the mood to read it. That although I liked it. I would understand and not criticise those who didn't.

So to the next book.

A28 - Clive Bell - Civilization

A vintage Pelican paperback. A modest title. We'll see how good it is.

Until the next time.

In Which Euro 2016 Starts (Well For Me Anyway) But I've Got To Do A To Do List First

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well Euro 2016 is finally upon us and what an exciting first day with three matches to kick us off including one involving the three international teams I follow, Italy.

Oh OK then it started on Friday. Wales won. England drew with Russia on the pitch and apparently also are neck and neck in who is liable to kicked out first thanks to the actions of the apes from either team in Marseilles. Because of work I won't be able to see the England/Wales game on Thursday. Question is whether there will be an England team for their final game against Slovakia. Today you had the situation of the England manager and captain practically begging the fans to behave. That was depressing to watch. What's even more depressing though is that I have my doubts that the apes will listen.

And I'll tell you this as well. Here in Wales I'm beginning to notice this in a very minor non threatening form. Speaking as an Englishman,albeit a card carrying member of Plaid Cymru, I've seen some, and note the word some (to be precise about five) people walk around in England football shirts and drive cars with the flag of the cross of St George on the back window or attached to a car aerial. I'm thinking to myself  why antagonise people? If this was France I'd get it but you're in Wales. There is a sort of arrogance about doing it at this particular time at this particular moment. I mean would these people do that in Scotland or the Republic of Ireland? Of course they wouldn't.

Let me be clear who I follow in order with regard to international football. England the country of my birth, Italy the country where my ancestry comes from and Wales, the country I live in now and feel should be an independent nation.

Anyway. Monday was off work and it meant that I was able to watch matches in the tournament for the first time. I mentioned to my wife that I was going to do the vacuuming as I was the one not at work that day didn't really have any excuse not to (plus of course avoiding any grief later). This however had to be added to going to the rubbish tip, the library, doing some shopping as well as of course WATCHING FOOTBALL.

So went to the rubbish tip called Thygeston. It is the most well hidden place to throw your trash away I know covered as it is by green fields and trees. It's so discreet that you'd whether ex KGB members helped in its design.

On the way to the tip.....really

Next stop was Porthcawl firstly to the library where I paid my debt to society for an overdue book (15p) and then picked the next football book to read which was.....

Philippe Auclair - Thierry Henry - Lonely At The Top

Yes I know he's a legendary Arsenal player (boo hiss) but he was capable of taking your breath away and have some fans of opposing teams applauding him. I've also read some articles by the author on the e magazine The Blizzard. If the back cover of this book is correct, what I'm going to read is a biography by an author who admires but does not worship his subject. Let's not forget that thanks to his "Hand of Gaul" incident in 2009 he was as popular in the Republic of Ireland as people with the occupations of banker and British politician.

After that shopping which is unimportant apart from the fact I bought a packet of football stickers. Since chatting about the subject last I've bought 4 packets. The totals now (remember it's 33 stickers per team) are as follows.

Turkey: 17
France: 14
Wales: 13
Switzerland:12
Albania: 11
Poland: 11
Russia: 11
Spain: 11
Czech Republic: 10
Ukraine: 10
Austria: 9
Northern Ireland : 9
Republic of Ireland : 9
Belgium: 8
Italy: 8
Sweden: 8
England: 7
Germany: 7
Hungary: 7
Iceland: 7
Portugal: 7
Slovakia: 7
Romania: 6
Croatia: 5

And of course more doubles. Didn't have time to work out what to do with them......I'd football to watch.

Anyway after lunch came the vacuuming. Well there would've been the vacuuming had not the actual cleaner only a few minutes after I started decided to just turn Franciscan monk on me and suddenly turn silent and go off. My first instinct was to check and see if it affected the electricity in other parts of the house but no, it was just rage in that machine.

So the football gods seemed to be smiling on me. Though felt I should show willing and picked up with a dustpan and brush any obvious dust etc from the floor. Did my best under the circumstances but had an excuse, I think that's what they call a win-win.

At last I was ready for the football. First match was the Czech Republic vs Spain. Purely on the grounds that I'd a football shirt for one of the teams I was going to follow....

Viva Espana

Incidentally I've seen the video of the Spanish world cup song. The Spanish captain Sergio Ramos can sing. Here people would give Wayne Rooney a round of applause if he could hold a note.

Spain dominated the game from start to finish. But it had looked as if they had followed the football manual to the letter apart from forgetting the final chapter relating to how to score. Then with a few minutes to spare they did exactly that.

Almost immediately afterwards the match was stopped.........as I paused the TV to pick up my daughter from the school bus. Reading some thirties poetry whilst I was waiting for her...as you do.

Returned. Resumed. Spain won. They can thank me for wearing the shirt later.

Republic of Ireland vs Sweden next. The first half was barring a few Irish chances generally dull which I thought was a good thing as the Republic were the equal of their opponents. In the second half the men in green were ahead, Ciaran Clark scoring a goal best described as Zlatanesque. Unfortunately for them the Swedish equalised through an own goal. That's how it stayed. For a neutral it was a good match to watch on the whole,

So finally Belgium Italy. Not neutral here. To the extent that it was spaghetti for dinner. Microwave spaghetti admittedly (too busy watching football..hope you noticed) but it's the thought that counts. Daughter at guides Wife chatting over coffee with the neighbour. I was all alone. One, two, three "Italia Italia".

Italy were not favourites here. Belgium are apparently the second best nation in the world at the moment. Still you had the feeling they were going to do well. Won the battle of the national anthems and they could deal with Mark Clattenburg as referee being used to Prima Donnas.

Early on they scored with a strike from Giaccherini. Belgium for the most part bar a spell in the second half did not look as if they were capable of making an effective response. It appears that without Vincent Kompany they are a bunch of sole traders. As for Fellani's new blond hairstyle, my theory is that it was designed so that their opponents are so convulsed with laughter they're unable to play properly.

Pelle scored a second just before the final whistle. Italy won. And you know what was the best thing about that victory.It was typically Italian.

Two matches today (Tuesday). Wife and daughter are out for the evening. Things just get better and better.

Until the next time.

Euro 2016 Is Missed Again....Instead I Read A Football Book So That I'm Not A Criminal

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well work meant that I missed the three matches that were on yesterday.Living in Wales the match was conscious of mostly was their game against Slovenia. Whilst it would be a lie to say that work was as quiet as a wild west town with tumbleweed strolling across the way it was certainly less busy than normal.

Knew Wales had won though didn't know the score however the other match of interest was England Russia. Did not know the result of that as I came home but to be honest couldn't have recorded it as I wouldn't have had the patience not to know  the result. 1-1 then. England never make it easy for themselves do they? Next match is against Wales on Thursday. Working that day. What with the match and the violence involving (though not it appears solely the fault of) English fans perhaps it's a good thing.

Did not realise I could have been watching part of the birthday celebrations for the fact that a woman turned 90 (three times in fact). Perhaps the BBC licence fee would be more justified if they broadcast celebrations for birthdays for other people reaching that age. Then it wouldn't act as if it should be called Broadcasting By Curtsy.

Anyway so to work and during the quiet moments concentrated on finishing off the library book The Three Degrees by Paul Rees. Not least because I was 1 day late on the due date (I know, on the most wanted list I go).

You may remember that it was about the three Afro Caribbean footballers, Brendon Batson,Laurie Cunningham and Cyrille Regis who played for West Bromwich Albion in the late seventies and early eighties. The first time three non coloured players were in a the first eleven in a team in the UK.

It is a good read. It sets out the complex characters involved very well for the uninitiated, Also and possibly crucially the author's local knowledge of the West Midlands at that time makes it easier for the reader to understand the situation that the men were involved in.

At that time football was in a very nasty state. Hooliganism had taken hold of the sport and so the atmosphere generally was hostile. For these men, the colour of their skin added a further layer that they were forced to deal with.The author sets this out well Would hope this hasn't returned.

If there is a flaw in the book it's overdoing the national situation at the time. Obviously it needed to be explained but the Jeremy Thorpe trial? Really?

Still it doesn't hide the fact that this is a quietly important book about men who found themselves being pioneers and just went about their business despite the obstacles ignorance threw their way.

And perhaps also praise should also be placed on West Bromwich Albion. They always struck me as a club who when faced with issues that were beyond merely football always did the right thing.

Anyway I'll go to the library tomorrow to pay my debt to society and get the next football book then.

Until the next time.

Couldn't Watch Euro 2016, So I'll Moan About Archaeology Instead

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well I was working the afternoon/evening shift at work last night so missed the start of Euro 2016. The match was between France and Romania. The French won thanks to Dimitri Payet. And at club level who's got Payet? "We've got Payet,We've got Payet" (sorry,sudden bursts of singing does not work when read).

Perhaps I'm going to miss the first three days of the competition because of work is a good thing (no point recording them I'd know the results before I could watch them) because I also missed some of the English fans going retro and turning into the apes of the past. God it just makes me despair sometimes.

Suddenly you realise that there is a connection between Euro 2016 and the EU referendum in that thanks to some English fans more Europeans actually would want us to leave.

So instead of the football I'll moan about archaeology instead. I shouldn't worry about making archaeologists angry. They won't put you into a grave. They'll just dig you up thousands of years later to take anything of value (either monetary or sentimental) buried with you.

As you probably know (or guess from the background picture) I collect vintage Penguin/Pelican paperbacks and I've just finished Digging Up The Past by Sir Leonard Woolley first published in 1930. Essentially this book is an introduction to archaeology based with his own experiences in the field.

Now let me be fair to Sir Len. He would have had to a produced a book pretty spectacular for me to have been interested in the subject. Fireworks and dancing girls would've needed to have been included. After all if I wanted to be outside, bored  and covered in dirt I would have taken a far greater interest in gardening.

So I approached this with not a closed mind but let's say it was unlocked but shut. A lot of this tome is boring but I felt that it was more to do with me than him so I'll give him a pass on that. However there were moments that interested me for the wrong reasons.

Sir Len mentioned that workers on his sites (say for example Egypt) were paid "a fair wage" and yet there was no explanation on exactly how this wage was actually "fair" Len was after all an archaeologist so exactly what knowledge did he have on a living wage for the average Egyptian in the nineteen thirties? Let's not forget the conditions they would have worked under as well. Calling it "a fair wage" doesn't mean it was. It's a trick that's used to this present day. Say something often enough then some people will always believe it to be true.

Yet despite this "fair wage" he had also a scheme, "described as baksheesh" where workers who discovered any valuable objects got a bonus. It struck me as a sort of cultural equivalent of the double glazing salesman getting extra money for being the best flogger of glass that month.

Also, when talking about this bonus scheme Lenny described his Arab workers as liking it because they're...wait for it...."gamblers by nature". Now even if you take account of the time it was written, and that he was not implying that after working in the dig they were trying to place a bet at 2:30 in Haydock, it's still a pretty insensitive remark. I'd argue that it shows his low opinion of the workers on his site,

But do you know what shocked me more. It was the chapter on digging up ancient graves. He seemed to treat it as just part of the job but I was thinking to myself that here is a grave digger justifying his actions on the grounds of historical accuracy. We're not talking about rich pharaohs here. Lenny Boy talks disapprovingly about the people who raided graves to take things like jewellery but though I don't approve of that it seemed more understandable than doing the same thing to find a Celtic Warrior's sword or even worse a child's toy.

You might say it doesn't happen now. I've no idea and I don't care. If you see the results of an archaeological dig in a museum there is a possibility that the remains were treated with more care than the workers who found them and that a final dignity was taken away from ordinary people in the name of culture.

Archaeology. Didn't dig it before reading this book. Dig it less now.

So have a new Penguin book to read from the larger white spined "King Penguin" series of the nineteen eighties.

Jim Harrison - Sundog

Jim Harrison died fairly recently in March of this year. Though picking from the great unread was purely coincidental. 

Until the next time.

At Last The Football Sticker Post

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well at long last I've gone through all of the Panini Sticker packets and have dutifully put them into the album. Despite the vast paper mountain I've created in the house I've not even scratched,or should I have said stuck the surface yet. The Euro 2016 tournament starts tomorrow, but I won't be able to watch it properly because of work until Monday (by the time I'll get home I'll probably know the results so it's pointless recording the games) so for the moment this will be the closest I'll be involved.

Me Being Ten Again

I won't bother chatting about the miscellaneous stickers like the logo etc. What will follow is the current situation per team. The only other thing you need to know is that there are 33 stickers for each team.

So in order of the number of stickers per country:

Turkey: 14
France: 12 
Wales: 12
Albania: 11
Poland: 11
Spain: 10
Switzerland:10
Austria: 9
Czech Republic: 9
Northern Ireland : 9
Republic of Ireland : 9
Russia: 9
Ukraine: 9
Belgium: 8
Italy: 8
England: 7
Germany: 7
Iceland: 7
Portugal: 7
Hungary: 6
Romania: 6
Sweden: 6
Croatia: 5
Slovakia: 5

There are also about 20 "doubles" including two of Adam Lallana (Anyone interested?). Sometime next week I'll need to look into how to swap doubles. Have to make sure I'm dealing not with kids but sad adults (I'm guessing men) like me. Not certain how but it's what needs to be done.

I'll post on the further adventures of the album in the future.

Until the next time.

In Which I Witness Something.....But Not Everything

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I know I had promised to go through the football stickers today. But events waylaid that.

I live in a suburb of Bridgend and like all suburbs it has it's morning routines. So that when when anything occurs that is outside this normal pattern of suburbia existence then it's noticed.

Now  today unusually not only did I have today off work so did my wife. She had a hospital appointment to go to early in the morning (for the record everything is fine).

Whilst she was out I just so happened to have looked out of the window. And on the corner of the road opposite,literally on the corner, there was an unmarked white van. Inside there was a man apparently doing nothing but watch the world of suburbia around him.

When my wife returned she too had noticed this van and was disconcerted by it. She thought that it belonged to the owner of the house on the other side of the turning who had parked two white vans on that corner for the two businesses he runs.

My wife who unlike me does not have an attachment to the sofa when sports are on wanted not to waste the day and decided to do things around the house. The first being the re potting of a few large plants in front of the house. Despite my dislike for most things gardenesque she needed my help in this, representing the only thing that could be described as muscle this early in the morning.

When I got outside she beckoned me forward and whispered to me (which is trust me most unlike our normal conversations).

"I've been listening to them. He's saying that the man has barricaded himself in the house". "He said that in all his time doing this job he'd never experienced this ever"

I looked up. Them? But she was right. For the man in the van had got out and was talking to an older smarter dressed what appeared to be controller of events. After all he had a clipboard and was chatting on his bluetooth.

Furthermore my original perception was wrong. For out of one of the vans parked opposite came not the owner of the house on the other corner but an electrician. Knew this because it was then I'd noticed that the van was from the electricity company.

After chatting a few minutes all three men went down the road away from our view. We made these assumptions. The leader was a bailiff, the electrician was, surprise,surprise an electrician and the other man was a locksmith. They were going to cut off the guy's electricity supply.

Ten to fifteen minutes later the three amigos came back. They chatted again and went to their respective vehicles. The "bailiff's" being a dark saloon model. I reckon it was chosen deliberately to exude menace. Still the point was that they were waiting. But for what?

"What" turned out to be a van belonging to the private security firm G4S. So then order was being restored by bastions of the private sector. Who needs the police anymore when we have full blooded free market capitalism?

They went up the wrong turning.

But they were back. And they drove down the right turning this time,the three amigos dutifully following them again by foot. After about fifteen or so minutes they were the ones who were first to come straight back and off enforcing the rule of law somewhere else. Their pedestrianised associates followed soon after. They had the satisfied look of people who had done their job. Soon they all went away and this world of suburbia was as quiet as it normally is at this time of the day.

Assuming we were right initially then let's make something clear. I've no idea whether it was a case of couldn't pay or wouldn't pay. Still a few more assumptions follow from this morning's events. That in this nondescript middle class suburb where I live there is a house near me, and possibly at least one person living inside it, without electricity. Which, even in a hot day like yesterday, sends a chill through me.

Until the next time.



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In Which I Watch Football, Buy A Football Figure and Stickers And Of Course Try To Like Poetry Through The Medium Of Motoring

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well the European Championship is being held soon and although looking forward to it I already know that I'm going to miss a fair bit of it because of work commitments (boo hiss). Still it's now summer and to find football other than continental championships requires investigative searches. You suddenly become grateful for those countries with a March-November season.

Last year I'd stumbled on an Internet stream in the Norwegian Tippelgaen and found myself rooting for the home team Viking FK. They became the Norwegian team I follow online when work permits it. So to reiterate, I probably am the only Englishman living in Wales to follow a Norwegian League team. Footballing fame at last.

Now even though the commentary was (surprise,surprise) in Norwegian which I don't speak (my ignorance) that didn't matter. As long as I knew which team was which I was involved. Background could always be looked at half time.

I'd wanted to see whether Viking FK were playing yesterday but in the event that proved irrelevant because a cousin of the wife's came for Sunday Lunch so there was no opportunity to watch a game online even if it had come on. The afternoon was spent between watching a cricket game that was so dull until the end that I could have died of rigidity. Tennis where Andy Murray fooled us all by winning the first set before collapsing into swift defeat and darts.

Must admit I'm in two minds towards darts. On the one hand there is a skill involved and it is a sport. On the other what possesses people to see these players in these massive arenas where depending on where they're seated they could hardly see the darting gladiators let alone the darts?

When I put it to our guest who has gone to these things he responded as follows. "Well there are big screens". Was silent at this. Though did think couldn't people just stay and watch their big screen in the comfort of home?

Anyway wasn't able to watch a match until 10pm that night when online I saw a match in the Copa America. Jamaica were playing Venezuela in Chicago. Two teams I've really seen play. It was about 10pm here in Wales and it felt rather humid (and for those of you who know about Welsh weather you probably do believe in climate change after reading that sentence).

Venezuela started well with an impressive goal. Cue the camera to focus on a pretty blonde I'd remembered seeing before the match started. I'd wondered whether the cameraman was going to ask her out for a date. The commentator stated that the team's performance was "high energy". I'd wondered whether he was being deliberate in his choice of words given their economic problems.

But the game really turned on the sending off of a Jamaican player soon after the first goal. To my eye it looked harsh. After half time (during which I did the very British thing and made myself a cup of tea) the manager was sent to the stands by the referee for arguing with him. One player off,one manager off and one goal down. You got the feeling that it wasn't going to be Jamaica's day. Still although they lost it was only by that goal. Given what they faced it was an impressive performance by the team in yellow.

Monday evening I watched the friendly between Italy and Finland. If you're wondering what my allegiance is here then.....

Blue is the colour

So Blue is the colour, apart that is from the Italian goalkeeper whose strip was of a colour best described as motorway maintenance. The Azzuri won 2-0. Really it should have been more. Italy is at it's best when they play with a swagger which was missing here.

Italy was captained by Chiellini. Or as Luis Suarez would call him...a snack.

By the way you can learn a lot about a country by watching their TV commercials. Italians like mineral water. They are also led to believe that teeth whitening toothpaste will attract women in the way aftershave/deodorant was once meant to do (note for the next shopping list I think).

After that I watched a bit of the second half of Iceland Liechtenstein which was won 4-0 by the home team. Unfortunately it was 3-0 by the time my eyes I'd joined them.

You may remember a challenge I set myself a long time to buy a football sticker pack a day to fill a Panini Euro sticker album with. Well it's gone surprisingly slowly. At the beginning I saw more packs for trading cards than for stickers. Don't ask me why. Anyway in Porthcawl on Monday all of the packs so far have been bought. Will spend a bit of Tuesday on a football sticker special post....I know you can't wait.

Here is incidentally the Porthcawl picture of the week.

A warm day

You will note the fence at the bottom of the photo, Because if you turn a bit to your left this is the view you'd see.

Preparing for the summer crowds 

Today I bought Neil Taylor of Swansea and Wales.....this is the proof.

Told you

Kudos to the local Coop supermarket in Porthcawl for selling something Welsh that Tesco Bridgend at time of writing only sells the English version of.

You may remember that in my last post I quibbled with Andy Miller with regard to him wondering how you could call yourself a sportsfan but not particularly liking every sport. Well I've realised that you could call yourself a reader (which I am) but missing a notable subject out.In my case, as you've realised from the title, it's poetry.

I wish I could say that the reasoning was amongst the classic ones thrown out.

"It rhymes? How poncey is that" or

"It doesn't rhyme?  How pathetic. Anyone can be a poet." or

"I wander lonely as a cloud? You cannot be cirrus? When do you see cloud by itself? They hunt in packs. Especially when it's about to rain".

No it came down to finance. I've no idea about the price of poetry books now but when I was a teenager you'd pick up a slim volume of poetry and you'd be shocked to discover that it was about the same price as a novel (autobiography etc). So poetry gave you less bang for your buck, less pull for your pound.

Of course there were the poets I read at school. I liked T S Eliot when he was depressed only to lose me when he discovered God and cats. John Donne the womaniser who discovered religion (how convenient.Covering your bases I'd say) wrote poetry I shrugged at. And there was another that so influenced me that I've forgotten his name.

There was one exception which was John Betjeman who was the Poet Laureate when I was younger. He was a man of varied interests but was capable of writing poetry that made you laugh or feel sadness. He was the one who would go on TV chat shows. He made poetry accessible to everyone without the feeling he was dumbing down. I don't know how good Betjeman was in comparison to others because I've read so little poetry. But I liked him.

So then me and poetry. Not against just apathetic. Not in denial just indifferent.

However my collection of classic Penguin paperbacks has a few poetry books in it. John Donne (been there Donne that) and this.

Robin Skelton (editor) - Poetry of the Thirties

The point is that I've finished the last "car book" I've used to dip into from time to time. (The Henry Cooper post sporting career biography which read more like the finish from one of those "An Evening With.." events) so this seems like the perfect book to dip into.

We shall see.

Until the next time.

In Which I Talk Crazily About Golf And When A Book Demands To Be Read Now

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

When I was in work last week I saw a man who I knew worked at, if not owned the local golf course.

"Funny you're here" I began. "I'm reading a book about crazy golf at the moment".

"Really?" came the polite answer.

"Yes. I never knew there was an association for it".

"Well these Americans are very technical about this sort of thing you know"

 "Not America" I responded "Britain".

The man responsible for the one and only time I knew more about golf (even if it was its self proclaimed lunatic fringe) than a true fan was Andy Miller whose 2002 book Tilting at Windmills I'd been reading. It's about a man with a lifetime aversion to sport who makes a St Paul like transformation.In particular as I've hinted with all the subtlety of a distress flare  to crazy (officially,yes officially, known as mini) golf and starts becoming obsessed with all the zeal of the converted.

Becoming more driven (couldn't resist that) Andy Miller reveals that despite its gaudy exterior crazy golf has it's fair share of characters, rivalries,rules,tournaments, corporate involvement and foreign tournaments. All of which he laces with a wry and honest humour. For ultimately he is laughing at himself for the man he becomes.

For me "mainstream" golf is a sport that I might have been converted to had not fate intervened. I'd shown no interest it at all until my early forties when I started watching highlights for some reason of the US PGA (never watched golf on television live - that slippers moment is still to come). Amazingly though my daughter then about three was watching it as well. Now I'm not saying she understood the rules. Neither if came to a choice between golf and Dora the explorer that the world famous Latina adventuress wouldn't win hands down. It's just that it was the only time she was prepared to watch a sport without moaning about something or other.

I suspect that the reason my daughter was interested was that she had a hero. Tiger Woods. I also suspect that the reason she was interested was because he was called Tiger. Remember this the time when he bestrode his sport like colossus. Pre scandal, pre injury pre loss of form Tiger Woods. Something that you have to constantly remind yourself of nowadays.

But for every hero there has to be a villain and for a logic that could only understood by a toddler that was Mark Calcavecchia. So that when Tiger appeared we cheered and when Mark was on we would boo Pantomime style

At around January I'd told my wife to buy the cheapest most basic set of golf clubs with some balls and the one white golf glove (the most posy thing about the sport. I mean.white) for my birthday so that come the summer I would swing those bats in anger.

But then I became unemployed. One day (not today) I will post about the paralysing depression that hit me when this happened, hidden from friends and family. The point with regard to golf though was that it instantly became something frivolous.The moment to play the game had gone and even though things appear brighter in my life now it has not, for now, returned.

So this book interested me in a way that a man was drawn into swinging those bats, even if it was for the more radical version of the sport (now that's a better name for it. "Radical Golf". Makes things more edgy,more Corbynesque).

That said Crazy Golf is not the only sport Andy Miller looks into. As a supporter he goes to such things as football, the boat race and even "mainstream" golf as well investing it with his engaging humour. This is also used to discuss serious points as well, such as sports coaching for kids.

The book it reminded me of (though hers is much more autobiographical) is Victoria Coren's For Richer,For Poorer,published in 2009. What both books show is how an involvement in sport can affect other aspects of your life and change you as a person, in her case poker. What neither did though was to bring a desire in me to take up their respective games. For the record my trademark "Poker Face" is a look of absolute panic as I wonder what the hell I do next.

There are quibbles. I was curious to know the reaction of Mrs Miller at the very beginning. After all for some women a dislike/disinterest of sport is a plus point when choosing a partner. As I've mentioned before for these ladies their ideal man is probably personified by the partner of my hairdresser. Someone who not only doesn't like sport but is also a cook. It would have been like married to a Conservative only to discover a sudden change to Socialism.

Also he mentions that being a sports fan doesn't necessarily mean a liking for all sports. Well that is true. But you can be a film buff without liking every type of film.You can be a person who likes music but that still could mean that Johnny hates jazz.

But these are very much quibbles. This is unquestionably the most enjoyable book I've read this year. If you can find a copy get it. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Now that left the number of books I was reading to three and I had intended that it stayed that way. But sometimes things happen that a book amongst the great unread on my shelves demands to read now. It happened yesterday.

Perhaps I should introduce the book first

Says it all really

This is his authorised biography published in 1976 which I'd bought last year in a charity shop in Maesteg for 10p. Of course authorised biographies always give an impression of relative blandness (or sometimes completely the opposite where it becomes a confessional) but in this case I suspect it will be interesting. Although there is a ghost writer (Richard Durham) I suspect a lot of this book will be from his own words. Muhammad Ali was the most eloquent sports person I can recall. It would not surprise me if there was in a parallel universe Muhammad Ali ...writer.

There are many reasons for the decline of boxing. One of them is that for those of us old enough to see him at his peak then other fights will never match that high. When you have seen The Greatest what is the point?

Until the next time.