Hooray for Harlow (Part Two)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

The more I'm in Essex exile whilst my mother is in hospital the more I'm conscious of this attitude to the "new" town of Harlow.

Today I'm walking along the street near where my mother's home is. I'm stopped by a man asking how she is. I say she's recovering and indeed in an hour's time I'd be visiting her after doing a few things in Harlow (the hospital is nearby to the town centre) which, I add is a place I rather like.

"Have you " he asked "been there at night?"

Aside from when I leave the hospital in the evening the answer's no. But I don't consider it an issue. After all I'm fifty four. Not of an age where you look forward go out regularly in any town centre in the night.

"Well" he says "there are good and bad spots in every town".

This is of course true. Yet you could tell from the sound of his voice that he figured that there were more minuses in the Harlow list than pluses.

I went to the town centre again this afternoon. And my view hasn't changed. Not Paris or Milan but not worthy of the mockery or snobbery of others ether. I noticed a few shops that were closed down but the vast majority were open and seemingly doing good business. People seemed happy and chatty and just leading their lives.

Mentioned in the original tweet that there was a statue of large books which I couldn't take last Sunday cause kids were playing on it. As presumably they were being educated today however ....

The thought did occur to me on Sunday that the kids were of the generation that aside from school they would be unlikely to want to read a paper book again. Which is sad.

I also noticed this statue.

This is Meat Porters by Ralph White. Two things. Firstly I'm not sure whether they would pass Health and Safety. Secondly though I didn't look too closely, I'm not sure the men had any clothes on.

And along the main thoroughfare there's this.

This monument is there to symbolise Harlow  as a new town. Personally it seems rather sad it just seems rather forgotten. I like the statues myself. They're unusual, slightly quirky but in a good eccentric way. Rather like Harlow itself.

And as for Harlow at night I give you....

Moon Over A Car Park

 Until the next time.

The Businessman As God In Fiction

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Have finished Titan by Theodore Dreiser and I didn't like it. Though readable, (yes Theo  still knows how to make you swipe the page) it was disappointingly predictable. Young Carrie it isn't. If we're taking score of those I liked and disliked then the football match from this ebook omnibus is currently 2-2.

I had thought that the next book was going to be the third in the trilogy but no, instead it's going to be his novel The Genius. Hope I'll like it.

But reading Titan (published I should say in 1914) made me realise about the portrayal of businessmen in fiction as a certain type of propaganda for hard right no holds barred capitalism. So perhaps we should chat about it further.

The characteristics of the businessman (and let's be clear about this it's about men here) are as follows:

1) The man is a business genius. Thing is in real life few businesses become instant hits. Instead they grow organically. Yet in this fiction everything the businessman touches turns to gold. The only problems occur  through the unforeseen or the malevolent actions of others.

This leads us to:

2) Attitude of Other Men: Men either hate him or wish they were him to the point of worship. As for women.....

3) Attitude of women: Because you're a businessman women will automatically fall in love with you. You have the pick of all the women you want. No matter how badly you treat them when you go to your next conquest they will think of you even if they're with another man.

Of course the reality here is different. If you looked at the pictures of the major directors of the collapsed company Carillion. What you saw (presumably taken out of the annual report) was the faces of fat smug suited older men. I would doubt that the platoon of women that fiction suggests would flock to these individuals would occur in reality. Even before the bankruptcy.

4) Blackmail and Bribery is OK: What does it matter if they are crimes? Grease the wheels for business that's all that matters. Punishment is for the lower orders.

If you want a more realistic and sympathetic portrayal of a businessman (though in this case more of a manager). I would suggest Nice work by David Lodge. It shows a good man trying to do his best. I would recommend it.

Until the next time.

Hooray For Harlow

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Before I visited my mother in hospital this afternoon. I needed to go into Harlow town Centre (which is nearby) to get a few pairs of fluffy pyjamas from Primark. The first time indeed I have ever bought women's clothing....he says quickly.

In the morning I'd mentioned this to a cousin who was enquiring about my mother's condition. I said that I'd only ever been once before and I liked it.

"Well I don't" came the response.

Harlow seems to have suffered from NewTownitis a symptom of which is to get decidedly sniffy when it's mentioned. "New" for the sufferers means not old, lacking a sense of tradition, a sense of style. Even though of course some of these buildings were built in the sixties or seventies

Of course there is an "Old" Harlow but nobody thinks about them anymore. The big buildings that announce themselves as you drive along is what most people think of Harlow. The Study Centre, The Leisure Centre (that describes itself as a leisure "zone") and the shopping complex filled with restaurants and superstores called The Water Garden.

Having driven through the area for the past week, and have wandered through it today my view hasn't changed. I'm not going to say that should you have the choice of Paris,Rome or New York the only way is Harlow. But I liked the town. There are far worse places to live in Britain and it does not deserve the snooty disdain that those who hardly know the town seem to give it.

You can always judge a town centre by the shops. So let's start with this:

That is a Polish shop. I noticed another nearby. Harlow: Quietly cosmopolitan.

The shopping centre is called The Harvey Centre. This is the statue in front of it.

To be honest it's an odd statue. Given that the unnamed lady concerned seems to turning her back on the very place she guards. There is incidentally a more interesting sculpture of large books nearby However kids were playing on it and so I couldn't take a picture in case people put two and two together and made five. Still it's worth a look if you're there.

The centre itself is a friendly place to wander round with a good mixture of shops. Must admit I liked it....except for this.

What the......

How did Spurs take control of Harlow so much that they have their own shop here? somehow I get the feeling that the West Ham board missed a trick again.

The shopping centre includes a cinema.Nearby there are more shops as well as a playhouse and a library. Clearly boxes are being ticked. But to me they seem to have slotted in well.

Of course when you think of Harlow you think of something like this.

But there is nothing wrong with this if it works. And from the relatively brief time I was there today it did seem to work. Sure there are more traditional houses nearby. Less glossy. But it does not matter. What matters is that Harlow seems to be place where new really does appear to mean better.

Until the next time.

The BBC, Like The NHS, Is Free At The Point Of Delivery....Except Apparently At The NHS

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

This blog I know has been disjointed recently. My mother is currently in hospital and is recovering from an operation. I won't go into details, that's my mother's personal affair. but I think, I hope, that I will be back in Wales within two to three weeks. But for the moment I continue to be in Essex exile.

I should say that I have no complaints about the NHS hospital she's in (unlike her GP practice, but that's another story). The problems I have are not specific to this hospital but seem to be general. the car parking charges are a tax in England on people's emotions as they are visiting their loved ones. And there is also the question of the available TV installed on every bed in the hospital from an American company called Hospiedia....for a fee.

There are many channels on offer, including those for sports and movies. But it's the fact that they charge for free to air channels that gets me. After all they are seeking money from people at their most venerable. When you are in hospital, unless you are too ill to be bored. Time is either frenzied or dull. and Hospiedia knows this.

Now BBC1,BBC2,ITV,Channels Four and Five are available for free....between eight and twelve in the morning. So unless Homes Under The Hammer, decades old American comedies which seem to be on a virtual loop or Jeremy Kyle make your world complete. You're screwed.

There are arguments that Hospedia will put up about this. But for the moment let's just focus on the BBC. If you are a licence fee payer of the state broadcaster and find yourself unfortunately confined in a hospital bed under the state run health service then surely it should be free beyond the confines of morning daytime TV.

The elderly, people on low incomes and indeed the entire licence fee paying community should get the BBC channels for free. It's what the state should provide to it's citizens at the very least.

Until the next time.

In Which Theodore Entertains But Ultimately Disappoints

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Being in my Essex exile looking after my mother means that there are periods where I have nothing to do but of course restricted as to what I can do. Which means that reading is one of those things that passes the time.

So a few days back I mentioned that I was reading Theodore Dreiser's 1912 novel The Financier and today, whilst my mother was asleep,I finished it off.

The book chronicles part of the life of Frank Cowperwood, the financier of the title. There are various problems with it but let me explain one thing. It is readable. When you're in the position of having to constantly look at someone to make sure they're OK and yet still find yourself in 19th century Philadelphia with no difficulty then that is the mark of a storyteller.

However there are problems. The relationship between men and women which is complex in Young Carrie or Jennie Gerhardt is much more simplistic and traditional here. It also in passing suggests an unacceptable view of African Americans. I'm not clear here whether it's the author's personal views or that of his character, but it's still unacceptable.

The central character is the sort of J R type figure that we have read or seen time after time after time again. And the trouble with it is that leaving aside your political objections for a moment you know that no matter how objectionable the character is. The author admires him. And I'm afraid Theo falls into that category.

And for the reader the other real objection to this book is this. The ending is rushed. It just has the feeling of knots having been tied.

It's as if Theo couldn't be bothered. He just wanted to move on to the second book in the trilogy The Titan, which is the book I'm reading now. The title alone gives me too much of an idea as to what I'm reading.

I hope I'm wrong.

Until the next time.

Theodore Dreiser: A Mystery Writer Of Sorts

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

For every reader there comes a book which, though not the best one you've ever read, or you'd bypass instantly in picking that certain something for a long stay in a desert island that nonetheless surprised you during the process of reading. Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser (published in 1900) was that sort of book.

Let me give you one part of the plot only. The beginning. Carrie of the title is a young woman who moves from small town America to Chicago.

Now the point is this. you as the reader is led to a certain mindset. And you go along with it, until something happens which makes you wonder whether you've approached the book correctly. But, and this is the skill, Dreiser does not as you go through the book say that you're wrong. Oh no what he says is that you might be wrong.

And that, I'd suggest is the sign of a writer who knows how to handle the plot. Because you as the reader has to continue reading to find out.

Not just plot mind you. Character as well. Your loyalties as a reader ebb and flow and ebb again. I would challenge anybody reading this book to honestly say that their view of any person is consistent from when they started to when it finished.

Relationships too. For the time they are written they are a mixture of their time or surprisingly modern to 2018 readers. As for his views of men and women whilst I wouldn't call him a feminist the position of men and women are not as clear as they first appear.

And like the plot itself the mystery is knowing whether or not you're initial judgement was right.

The novel was from a collection. The next one in that collection was Jennie Gerhardt. A book published in 1911.It has to be said that if you read Young Carrie then then there are less shocks here. But it's not without surprises.

So the next book in the collection is The Financier  a 1912 novel. We'll see if Dreiser is still a mystery at the end of it.

Until the next time.

Chelsea v Norwich City (Catalonia)

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I am in the third day of my Essex exile whilst looking after my mother. Until I mention otherwise I won't be mentioning anything about it until she recovers.

When you look after someone, even for a hopefully short period of time, the day either is very busy or very boring. As I'm writing this it's eight o'clock pm. Chelsea are playing Norwich City in an F A cup replay. It's on BBC1 , my mother is asleep so I can watch it

I'm supporting Norwich in this. Partly because they're the underdog. But also because their football shirts are in yellow. Yellow: the colour of Catalonia. the colour the Spanish government are afraid of. Oh I know it's mad. But it makes it interesting.

Early minutes there is constant Chelsea pressure. Chances were missed. Tip of a football boot and it would have been a goal chances.

Yellow is a bright colour. But not the brightest of the evening. That belongs to outfit worn by Chelsea goalkeeper Caballero. Best described as Radioactive.

Apparently there is a Chelsea player whose name is pronounced Feng Shui. Always out of position though. Later we're told West Ham want him....typical! He also gives Norwich their closest chance of the game first half.

Chelsea have a chance that's tipped onto the cross bar.

The team in yellow is defending itself well against a team with richer resources. Note the metaphor to Spain and Catalonia there folks.

But more chances come through Norwich's way. More confident as the half progresses.

Kenedy of Chelsea reacts to being fouled by slapping his opponent. Handbags not being available.

First half ends 0-0. Advantage to the Catalans.

But then Feng Shui finds the right position and scores for Chelsea....damn

Norwich do fight back with a chance that hits the post.

Chelsea resort to cheating as Pedro dives in the penalty area. Not just diving but bad diving at that.

As the half progressed Chelsea was trying to bore the game to death. As if the one goal meant that mentally the drawbridge was raised in their players' mind. However the Catalans throw everything to score an equaliser.Then right at the end of the ninety fourth minutes Jemal Lewis scores for the Catalans.

Extra time then.

Willian hurdles over a Catalan defender's leg and falls. Not a penatlty thank goodness. Another Chelsea penalty request is rejected.

First period comes and go. One all still. Catalonia is still in with a chance.

Second period and again a penalty request from Chelsea against Klose...not even Klose.

Towards the end of the second period Pedro is sent off for a second bookable offence. You know it was the right decison because Conte didn't overreact. Another penalty request rejected. Morata gets booked...reacts badly..gets sent off. Chelsea down to nine men.

Extra time finishes . Penalties

Willian for Chelsea Scored.

Olivera for Norwich. Caballero saved

Luiz for Chelsea. Scored.

Madison for Norwich scored with the cheekiest of penalties. The arrogance of youth.

Azpulqueta for Chelsea scored

Vrancic for Norwich scored

Conte for Chelsea scored.

Murphy for Norwich scored.

Hazard for Chelsea scores and Chelsea wins.

So the Catalans lose ......but only just......and tomorrow is another day.

Until the next time.

The First Early Morning Ramblings Of 2018

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

At time of writing this it's 5:09am but I've probably been awake for an hour longer. My mother is still not one hundred percent. As she is with people tomorrow and there are things I need to do (like pay the rent) I've decided to leave for Essex on Tuesday. Though I know she's better than she was and is certainly eating more the improvement which was there when I left Essex for Wales last Monday seems to have stalled. This flu is certainly persistent.

I don't want to go. But obviously there are things in life that you have to do because it's simply the right thing. Indeed when wife is awake will get the Paris St Germain travel bag ready. Get that over with first.

So my thoughts are mainly dominated by my mother this morning. Which explains I think how I can go to bed at 12:30am on a Sunday morning and wake up around four hours later.

Saw highlights of West Ham's victory over Huddersfield last night. I was pleased. But a little distracted.

There is for the moment nothing to do. The calm before the snowstorm.

There is another reason why I'm not looking forward to the trip to Essex. My knee is playing up again. Before it seemed to only make itself (literally) felt when it touched the ground. I thought there was an improvement. But now there seems to be a throbbing pain on the side, where there wasn't one before. There are no issues moving driving etc, but it reminds me it's there. Once my mother is sorted out will need to get this looked into.

On Books: Including My Daughter's Hatred For Literature And The New 1984

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So I'm driving my daughter to school yesterday morning. She's fifteen and already taking exams as seems to be the way nowadays. The exam she took was for English literature. As I chatted about this exam to her she made this to me stunning statement.

"I hate literature".

It mentally stopped me in my tracks (not physically as I was driving). She doesn't like literature? Am I a bad parent? Am I the last in a generation to actually want to read a book? Will librarians and booksellers want to throw the book at me?

Further interrogation however suggested something more complex. She said she "enjoyed" Of Mice and Men" by John Steinbeck. I wouldn't say it was a book to be "enjoyed" but she liked it so fair enough.

She also (like me) was a fan of An Inspector Calls by J B Priestley. Fine....

No it turned out that what she actually "hated" was poetry.....well that's alright then.

I have mentioned before in this blog that the biggest gap in my reading knowledge is poetry. Though there are exceptions taken as a whole I've no real interest. Caused mainly by the fact that as a teenager I didn't understand how the price of a slim volume of poetry was roughly the same as a novel so I went for the bigger book instead. Consequently, with exceptions, I feel as if I'm a bad reader of poetry because to me it doesn't seem worth the effort.

Like father like daughter it appears.

She went on to mention two poets specifically. The first was Dylan Thomas. I've mentioned previously from the bits I've heard (though not gone round to checking this) that I suspect he is the sort of poet better listened to than read.

Her real dislike though was towards Daniel Abse. Roughly her opinion of him was "a Cardiff guy who whinges about Wales".

Now my daughter has an advantage over me regarding Mr Abse, as I've never read any of his poems. I have however years ago read a book of essays and I certainly don't recall any whingery.

The relative unpopularity of poetry is interesting. Because if you think about the world of television I grew up in and the byte sized world of the internet that is daughter's domain, you would think that the instant do it quickly world we live in would be more suited to the poem. But apparently not.

Because of my mother being unwell my reading has been haphazard in the last few weeks. Indeed I've had to return the Annie Prolux book unread to the library (trust me that instantly borrowing back would be an admin nightmare for Sully library). I've also though been reading a book that my wife had bought me for Christmas when she asked me what I'd wanted to read. Thinking of the Backlisted podcast I went for this.

Derek Raymond - A State Of Denmark

Forget about the fact that it was published in the seventies (after all 1984 is still a powerful read even though 1984 has long gone). It's a book that has suddenly found it's moment. A novel that describes an England (note not Scotland or Wales) under a dictatorship.

The key to this story is this. The England that this book describes does not exist. But in the aftermath of the Brexit vote it's not impossible. Jackboot politics fuelled by jackboot media exists. I'm not going to spoil it by explaining the plot but after you read this you'll understand.

It may not be the greatest book you'll ever read. But since the Brexit referendum it becomes one of the most important as it conjures up a vision that we may find ourselves sleepwalking into.

Until the next time.

Welsh Labour: Franchising It's Duties To Yorkshire

Hello there. hope you're feeling well today,

Well I'm back in Wales. At time of writing it's just gone eleven in the evening and outside the weather is pouring down with rain. But despite it I've missed in the past two weeks wife/daughter (joint first obviously) and then Wales. Aside from any family event or as in this case here my mother being unwell there is no reason for me to visit England again. And you know what? I don't want to.

But whilst as I think I've shown commitment to Wales yet again Welsh Labour seems to willingly bite the hands of the people who voted for them. Yet again have taken Welsh voters for granted.

This concerns the Welsh Select Committee in the House of Commons. Now Stephen Kinnock who was on this committee decided to step down from it and concentrate work on other committees. We'll park that decision for a moment. The point here is that it left a vacancy for Labour to fill.

And fill it they have.....with an MP with a Yorkshire constituency

Now this has normally happened on a ministerial level with the Conservatives. If they haven't enough Scottish/Welsh MPs they'd fill any vacancy with Scots/Welsh MPs who had English constituencies.

Here though is different (though some of them might be on the Labour shadow cabinet) Labour have twenty eight MPs to chose from. And yet the vacancy has been filled by an English Labour MP with a Yorkshire constituency.

Why? Because no Welsh Labour MP wanted to fill it.

Apparently Stephen Kinnock did not appear in any Welsh committee meeting in this parliament anyway. Such was his commitment to Welsh affairs.

Thelma Walker the MP who has stepped into the breach has said that Wales and Yorkshire have similar issues such as farming or Brexit for example.

Trouble with that statement is that whilst Wales and Yorkshire may be "similar", it does not mean they are the same. It betrays an ignorance of Welsh issues. But to Welsh Labour "What's the problem? She wants to do it." As if that's somehow alright.

Again the essential niceness of the Welsh people is being taken advantage of here. After all can you imagine the Scots putting up with this? What other nation has to put up with it's elected representatives not willing to represent it on a Parliamentary Committee?

Leaving aside their front bench spokespeople and opposition whips as well as four who are on the committee. The remaining eligible Welsh Labour MPs are apparently too busy on other committees to attend the Welsh one. Well somebody should get one of these Welsh Labour MPs and make him/her go on the Welsh committee instead.

It's a matter of principle. Difficult for Welsh Labour I know.

Until the next time.

Neath Castle: Conquered By The Union Jack ?

Hello there. hope you're feeling well today.

Well here I am in Essex. Getting ready to drive back to Wales on Monday when all of a sudden Welsh news makes me yet again want to put fingers to keyboard.

Neath Castle. A Castle in Neath, in Wales (let's be clear about this here) have a flagpole just in front of it. Which shows the Welsh flag being as it is in Wales.

But no longer apparently because it's been replaced by the Union Jack.

Why this has been done or whodunit is not completely clear.

Let's start with who. Unless blog villain Alun Cairns has turned into a practical joker ("What a lovable scamp he is! Can't wait to see what he does on April Fools Day!) then the only logical suspect is Neath Town Council.

Let's assume it is the council. Either as an organisation or an individual from the council making a decision for whatever reason. Then the first question is why? Why would a Welsh council be prepared not to proudly display a Welsh flag in front of a Welsh castle? Why is it that unless rugby is involved there seems a gradual piecemeal dismantling of Welsh identity in, wait for it, Wales?

There are two logical reasons for this: One Neath Town Council has been infiltrated by spies working for the aforementioned political toad that is Cairns.

Or....

You may remember a recent post where I discussed Dafydd Elis Thomas. Independent Assembly member but current minister for Tourism. A man who has moved from former leader of Plaid Cymru to advocating that Wales should promote itself as a principality as a marketing option.

Perhaps this, either from a request from the Elis Thomas' office or as a response to it, is the reason why.

But what this Welsh council has apparently forgotten is that they are a Welsh council. In life symbolism is everything. A Union Jack instead of the Welsh flag outside of Neath castle suggests a nation conquered. Not only that but the actions of the council gives an image of a nation that has surrendered and is collaborating with it's conquerors.

Until the next time.

On Books and Football : Talking About True Legend Brian Clough

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well as my mother is getting better there are less things that I have to do as nursemaid. What this means is that for the first time in a week and a half  I've had time to concentrate on reading.

So let's go to an ebook I'd actually finished Letters On Sweden,Norway and Denmark by Mary Wollstonecraft. There is a mystery about this book to me. Wikipedia stated that it was written by Mary Shelley. However the introduction suggested that it was in fact her mother.

I don't have the time or inclination to check. Personally I'm hoping that it was her writer who wrote this. If only because it was a dull read.

Dull though is a description that I wouldn't give to the next ebook that I've read Cloughie: Walking On Water:My Life.

For those of you too young to remember Brian Clough was a legendary (when the word meant something and wasn't used to describe chicken burger) manager of the seventies and eighties. Taking two unfashionable teams Derby County and Nottingham Forest to League and (with regard to Forest) European glory.

This book, published in 2002 and ghost written by John Sadler is an autobiography of this larger than life man.

Since I've started this blog I've read three books by football managers before this one. There was the amiable tome by current Cardiff City manager Neil Warnock, the stunningly badly written Sam Allardyce biography and the weird biography cum business management book by Carlo Ancelotti.

This book is not only better than those. It's one of  the best football manager autobiography I've ever read. On a par with John Lyall's Just Like My Dreams.

The start is the key. Clough is in hospital awaiting a liver transplant due to his alcoholism. He has left Nottingham Forest following relegation. As you read it there is a sense of a man knowng that time is not on his side. The brash Brian of legend is replaced by a more reflective one. Never for example have I read an autobiography where a manager acknowledges that he was partly (because of the effects of the alcoholism) responsible for a team's relegation. He also speaks about his love of the drink and his regret about his feud with former assistant Peter Taylor and later how he handled Justin Fashanu

(And yes I forgive him for his remarks on blog hero Trevor Brooking. After all Trev answered him on the pitch)

Throughout he is not afraid to mention his failures as well as his successes.

What it reminded me of was Johnny Cash's last song Hurt. A dying genius looking back on his life.

It is a biography but it's a credit to Clough and John Sadler that rt reads as if he's chatting to you. He will speak about a subject meander and then go back to the main subject of the chapter. And you know what? It works.

Of the three books I mentioned earlier, it puts to shame the Carlo Ancelotti bio/business thing. Clough's style would not have been approved by Carlo. But we know who, given the resources at his disposal has achieved more.

Possibly if you're too young to remember him then this biography may be a difficult to understand. for those of us old enough though it's a worthwhile read of a true legend.

It will make you sad. It will make you wistful. It will make you smile as you remember him.

The next ebook is Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser.

Until the next time.

Listening To West Ham United With My Mother Part 2

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well for the second time in three days am listening to West Ham United playing against minor blog villain Tottenham. I'm with my mother in Essex being nursemaid whilst she's recovering from a virus infection. She is thankfully better though for reasons I'm not going to explain I won't be able to return to Wales until Tuesday possibly Monday.

My mother is not that knowledgeable on football.

"Who are West Ham playing?" Tottenham I respond. She gives a look that suggests that she's heard of them but that's the amount of her

"Is Nobby Stiles still alive?"

"What's happened to the manager with Bobby Moore?" Ron Greenwood? I answer. No. After twenty questions it turned out she was talking about Harry Redknapp.

There was an early Spurs chance "Have they scored?" No.

Constant Spurs pressure. "Where's it being played?" asks my mother. "Wembley"
"Ah" she says "whilst the new stadium is being built".
She knew that?

There is the tone from the BBC Radio 5 Live commentary that suggests Tottenham are going to score soon. I hear the sound of "Bubbles" in the air. The summariser is Steve Claridge, an ex-footballer with more clubs than Jack Nicklaus, and whose book Tales From The Boot Camps I'd recommend.

It is goalless in the first half. 74% possession for Spurs but goalless. This is so far so good.

"Can you do bacon in a microwave?" asks my mother. With every day that passes she's asking for more things food wise. She fancies that for lunch tomorrow. Fine by me.

Second half seems dull when all of a sudden there's a penalty call for Spurs. Apparently it was a good call. No penalty....thankfully. Shortly another penalty call. Again rejected by the referee Mike Dean. A man Arsene Wenger doesn't like. Arsene Wenger: a man who proved the Grinch didn't try to steal Christmas, he was too busy managing Arsenal.

Then against the run of play Obiang scores for West Ham on twenty minutes . A brilliant goal to watch on radio apparently.The excitement portion of the commentary and the crowd increases. You don't think.....?

Thirteen minutes remaining. See the goal on Twitter.....wow!

Then Son scores for Tottenham. Apparently just as good as Obiang's. 1-1 then.

That's how the match finishes. Must admit I'd have taken that result at the start of the game.

My mother was asleep for most of the second half. At the end of the match she wakes up.

"Who won?"

I tell her it was a draw.

"At least they didn't lose".

True enough.

Until the next time.

Listening To Swansea City And West Ham United With My Mother

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

"Nothing to watch on the television?" says my mother.

I'm as regular readers will know in Essex in the moment as my mother is recovering from a viral infection. Good news is that she's much better and all she needs to get a bit more energy back. I'll be leaving for Wales on Saturday.

But to answer my mother's question no there's nothing on the television. So I'm listening to football instead. The match on BBC Radio Five Live was blog friend Swansea City vs minor blog villain  Tottenham whilst there would be reports on blog hero (alright flawed hero) West Ham vs blog I don't know how to describe them West Bromwich Albion.

Swansea City had the new managerial appointment of Carlos Carvalhal. Which you could only look and wonder "why him?" West Ham had David Moyes, a manager where my opinion has moved from "Why him? He's rubbish, He's the messiah and currently "Why him?"

After about twelve minutes Spurs score. Llorente.Ex Swansea player. Apparently it was offside but no one seemed to really care as it appeared that Tottenham were so good /Swansea so bad. Listening to ex Swansea and in terms of his performance as a Hammer the best ex Arsenal player to play for us John Hartson being depressed. Swansea seem to be outplayed and outmanoeuvred in the apparently teeming South Wales rain.

Half an hour comes news from London. West Bromwich score. Leading West Ham 1-0. So let's get this straight, the teams I'd want to win are losing....perhaps it's me.

My mother has nodded off. Wish I could.

As the first half ends Swansea gives its fans more hope than at it's beginning but as any West Ham fan will tell you there is a misery in hope.

Second half.  Do I know what happened in the beginning? No. Wife rings. Tell her that I'm going to come home on Saturday. Moment I pass her to my mother there's good news from the TV. West Ham has equalised...meanwhile I hear discussions of the colour of paint on rooms. Another sign that she's better is that long female conversations on the phone have returned.

My mother chats further with my wife. Apart from the odd bit of excitement there appears to be no action with the matches. More action with the conversation between mother and wife.....worries me when they are close. Somehow I feel it's going to end badly for me somehow.

"I agree with you" says my mother to the wife. Suggesting that she disagrees with me.

Thirty five minutes that call was. Mainly between two of the three women in my life (the other being my daughter I should stress).

Two minutes left in the game. Spurs score. That would be it for the Swans.

Then last minute...WEST HAM SCORE!!! Andy Carroll the player who can be irritating yet inspiring in equal measure is in his inspirational moment . Now you might argue that West Brom were tired having spent two matches in three days...and you would be right...but I'm afraid I don't care...BECAUSE WEST HAM WON!!!

"Spare a thought for Alan Pardew" says the BBC radio reporter....well.....no.

I know childish of me. But as I've said once before (when I wasn't this old) that although I'm a fifty four year old man football, and only football, has the power to turn me into a ten year old boy.

Match Of The Day is on tonight. My mother has gone to bed. Will be watching it now.

Until the next time.