On Saturday, I went to watch the London derby of Spurs vs Chelsea in a bar – and since I could drum up no interest from anyone else I was with, I went alone. Apparently this is still a shocking turn of events for some men whose eyes seemed to spin in their sockets at the sight of a woman solo in a pub, even though I checked my calendar and we are indeed living in the year 2013… Continue reading » “A Woman Alone In A Bar? Shocking…”
I’ve been a Spurs fan all my life, ever since Hoddle and Waddle were dazzling with their silky skills at the Lane. I bought my first T-shirt aged 10, went to my first match aged 16, even moved to Stoke Newington so I could walk to games. I’ve also been a member at Spurs for the past 12 years. But lately, something’s happened – I’ve developed football inertia, football ennui. Put simply, I’m just not that bothered anymore… Continue reading » “Football: The Not So Beautiful Game”
This week, I have mostly been running. Run, runny run. Granted, I found time to eat, sleep, watch a bit of Homes Under The Hammer in between. But mostly, running. For at least 40 minutes every day. Doesn’t sound that impressive now I write it down. But believe me, when you’re only ten minutes down and you feel like your kneecaps are about to split, 40 minutes is a long way… Continue reading » “My Running Week”
This week I’ve been watching some Ashes cricket – I’m staring at it right now in fact. Currrently England are teetering on collapse – classic test match cricket apparently, keeping it interesting. Or they’ve turned into the England football team, depending on your point of view. Coming into this Australia were apparently a bunch of mugs, with cackling English commentators predicting they might not even make it to day three. Now they’re wondering if England will make it to day three and not looking quite so smug… Continue reading » “The Ashes Heat Up”
We’re now well into the first week of Wimbleton Abbey, and my, the script is way more fast-moving this year. Federer and Nadal have been consigned to the has-beens bin, Tsonga has a hurty knee and oodles of others who nobody’s heard of have slipped out of the tournament on their shoulder, arse or knee, pouting as they go. So where does this leave us? Murray and Robson to win either side of the tournament of course. Yay for media patriotism! Yes, we may have learnt nothing from previous years of hyping up our home players, but here are some things we have learnt this year… Continue reading » “Wimbledon: Grassy, Classy, Arsey”