Match That

So here we are again.

Another New Year's Eve.

This was me last year.

And the year before.

Sadly my mum has been unwell for the last couple of days and is in hospital with a nasty chest infection.

Poor soul.

She loves New Year's Eve too.

I am going to visit her shortly then home to a lovely meal cooked by My Lover.

We have chosen a quiet intimate evening.

An opportunity to reflect on the year that has past.

Some things didn't change of course.

Like Bolton fans' view of Megson for example.

Or the sacking of managers with almost yawn-making regularity.

There were trips to The Walkers.

Tales of love.

And of confusion.

Lesbian love.

The odd Vaseline rub.

Hypnotised lobsters and lickable bottoms.

All contributing to a year of sunshine and showers.

And the occasional assassination.

If 2010 can match that then bring it on!

Happy New Year!

Little Wood Guitar

Match of the Day, is what her indoors is playing on her guitar right now. In G C and F. At some point I predict she'll be putting dodgy video's on the Internet for your delectation.

And no, I lied, she's not back until her review of the year to be posted as the year turns over in about 36 hours.

She's been busy people. It's the holiday and so we've been doing this, (wished we had one of these).......... this and this.....oh and this too (oh.... for some of these)

And now it's time for the girl who is lovin' guitars to have some down time.

HL

Accept things simply

Is good advice dished out as luckshen in the latest offering from the Coen Brothers.

GB and me went to see the movie tonight at this groovy location.

Good advice to be taken seriously by this Liverpool Supporter.

It's an unfortunate truth, but the (long-suffering) Besty has heard me say, on more than one occasion recently, it has to get worse before it'll get better.

So, this recent result, only serves I believe, to prolong the inevitable demise of my team for a while.

Maybe it's time to start believing in Fairy Godmothers.


She'll be back tomorrow.

HL

Grant Me A Wish

A couple of days before Christmas Gooner Junior brought some wood over for us.

My Lover fed him mince pies.

As he was leaving, My Lover said to him "I think there is a very real possibility that The Arse may win the Premiership this season. I wish you luck mate."

"I can't believe you said that," I said after he had left.

"You hate The Arse".

"I know but he cares about them".

Sweet.

Deep down of course My Lover will be praying for a miracle to resuscitate his ailing Liverpool.

He might find a crumb of comfort in Martin O'Neill's assessment of their potential fortunes.

And hope there really are such things as fairy godmothers.

There's No H In Winger

Is performing a good throw-in a footballing skill or not?

My view is that it is.

As you know I am not a girl schooled in the art of actually playing the beautiful game, but it seems to me that the whole point is to be able to meet the various different challenges the game presents and that you do this by selecting a team with a variety of different but complimentary skills.

So if one of those challenges is to be able to throw in from the sideline after the ball has gone out of play then surely managers should be taking this into account when developing players and selecting teams.

I must, therefore, beg leave to differ with the Mighty Monsieur.

You and your team may have given my son the best 3 courses he had all Christmas today, but puuurleesss ..............

It would seem that after a playing career in defence, you now prefer the whinge.

Merry Christmas!

Have you had a nice Christmas so far?

I certainly have.

I hope you got everything you wished for.

My treasures have included a book signed by none other than Adrian Durham and a book of football quotes.

And whilst we are on the subject of Christmas, did you know that Father Christmas is an Aston Villa fan - apparently?

Fortunately he gets the day off today but will need to be back in action tomorrow when they visit The Emirates.

We, meantime, will be playing The Blades later, who are one place below us in the table.

Once again I will be operating stealth tactics to keep up with all today's action, only this year I have internet access via my phone.

Have a good one and may the best teams win!

Making It Up As You Go Along

It hasn't taken Mr Mancini long to start making an impression.

Is he telling the truth?

Or simply mischief making?

I was tempted to run off and do some research when he first entered the ring.

But something told me not to - to wait and see what happens.

I think it is much more exciting to watch what happens as it unfolds, rather than seeking to predict what might happen based on history.

Follow the narrative like a thrilling novel.

Yet knowing there is no author there to protect you from what might happen.

You have to be prepared for anything.

What do I think?

I think one of life greatest joys is making it up as you go along.

Bring it on!

Read All About It

How do you decide what is in the public interest to report in the media?

Where do you draw the line between public and private?

Can you?

Should you?

Let's imagine, for example, that a Premiership manager was seen entering a brothel, and exiting an hour later, subsequently admitting he had been with prostitutes.

Do we need to know that?

Is it just prurient curiosity?

Or is it behaviour that brings the game into disrepute?

Does it undermine your confidence in him as a man?

I guess we'll just have to watch and wait for this one to unravel.

Every Girl Should Have A Dehumidifier

I have not been completely focussed on football today.

I know that is shocking but I have a good excuse.

I have been decorating our utility room.

It has been bright yellow until now, with dark brown varnished doors.

Grim.

Anyway I set out to paint it all white and put in a new floor.

The plan was to complete the painting by the end of tomorrow and fit the floor after Christmas.

It started off OK. I did all the preparation yesterday and undercoated 2 of the 3 doors and door frames.

Up first thing to emulsion the walls.

Careful painting between a load of heating pipes with a little brush to get between and cover up the yellow behind.

Then a bigger brush to do the edges.

Then the fat old roller.

It is a holistic experience for me, painting.

In the sense that whatever I am wearing is usually as well decorated by the end of a session as the walls themselves, which was slightly unfortunate on this occasion as I nicked my lover's overalls because it was easier than going upstairs to get mine (I explained to him that I had so many layers of clothes on I couldn 't fit in to mine).

Anyway my deception caught up with me because after all my hard work it has all gone terribly wrong.

I started to get worried when the paint was not dry after 3 hours.

It got worse.

The utility room is an extension to the house, and could clearly have been better built.

Some insulation in the outside wall perhaps.

Which may have prevented the condensation that has now formed due to the cold weather and has resulted in my lovely painting running down the walls in places and forming painty puddles on the floor.

Let hope the dehumidifier I borrowed from my Dad will do the trick and I will be able to start sorting out the mess tomorrow.

If I was the unkind sort I might liken the situation to that at Liverpool.

It's certainly feeling all a bit slippery over there.

I can feel a chill run down my spine just like my paint.

Torres has come out in support of Benitiz.

An almost exact replication of Tevez's plea just a few days before Hughes' head rolled.

Fingers crossed Benititez has got a dehumidifier.

And that it works.

Pies Move In A Mysterious Way

Mark Hughes loses 2 matches since the beginning of the season and gets summarily dismissed.

Sir Alex loses 5 and no one really comments.

Rory Smith of the Telegraph thinks it is some sort of voodoo.

There does seem to be a weird connection though between Rafa and AF.

In some other dimension.

Meanwhile potentially dark forces are at work at The Emirates.

Who can say where all that is leading?

Elsewhere, the demons are closing in.

But none of these strange goings-on are a patch on the mystery surrounding a recent incident at Old Trafford.

Who threw that pie?

Not With A Bang But A Whimper

The shot was fired without a sound.

But the blow was deadly.

It seems the outcry against Hughes' sacking is almost universal.

Even fellow gladiators.

No such outcry about the revelation that Sir Stanley Matthews had a little dabble as a spiv in his time.

Described by an MP of the time as "The worst kind of treason", over 60 years later the context is no longer understood and the misdemeanour throws only the palest of shadows over the glory of his legendary footballing skills.

Doom And Gloom

It would seem the spell did not work for Mark Hughes.

Interesting that his only previous managerial experience in this country is with The Foxes.

And none of Fergie's tricks or stunts could patch up the holes he has in his defence at the moment.

Cheque book at the ready for next month I would say.

And Mascherano will be wanting to conjure up an invisibility cloak after leaving his team in the lurch today.

Meantime we didn't get to play due to bad weather.

It's quite misery making isn't it.

Mixed Emotions

It's a sea of turbulent feelings out there.

There's 'Arry for a start.

Whose not 'appy'.

Not 'appy at all.

Watford, on the other hand, are happy.

Well maybe not happy as such.

More relieved.

Then there is a rather worried Sparky.

And a couple of people are getting excited about returning to old hunting grounds.

My response to this maelstrom of emotion?

Hey - I finished work today for two weeks.

Like I care.

Cue Drumroll

So the cathedral went OK.

We gave them this.

And this.

In our own unique way of course.

My friend Blue Rinse (don't ask - it's too complicated to explain) came along with an amazing PA system and two friends to help set it up.

We have been friends for a number of years, although I don't see him very often these days.

I was delighted, therefore, when he came and gave me a Christmas kiss with one hand behind his back and said "I've got a present for you".

Ignoring my mother's childhood warnings to me about strange men bearing gifts, I waited eagerly.

I was not disappointed.

I am now the proud owner of.....

(Cue drumroll)

.... "Football Grounds From Above". A book of aerial photographs of all the main stadia in this country.

Now that - ladies and gentleman - is a proper Christmas present.

(PS With My Lover out of the room, here is a little treat for Gooner Junior. It has no connection with the story above but hey - it's nearly Christmas!)

A Little Indulgence

We are playing in Gloucester Cathedral tomorrow, my lover and I.

In this.

We'll be bringing a bit of 'cerntry' to the proceedings.

So as all good prima donnas, I am preparing myself.

We have had some tea and run through a few songs.

I put new strings on our guitars whilst my lover washed up (he's such a tidy bear).

Once through tomorrow's songs.

Then switch on the telly to see what's on.

Football!

"Back of the net", my lover exclaimed, making an unusual little 'dancing-sitting-down' movement.

What better way for a diva to be ready to meet her public than a joyous hour indulging herself.

The Colour Wed

What's going on at worthy Watford I wonder?

Is it just a wobble or are they weally in twubble?

Ouch!

Alright I'll stop that.

More important things to talk about.

Like Tesco's outrageous gaff to the detriment of our red-headed brothers and sisters.

Not that ginger is always a good thing of course.

Prepare To Fall In Love

Welcome to our new American student - Sharon.

Or Shazzer as she likes to be called by her new-found English friends.

You are joining a wonderful world of thrills, spills and plenty of drama.

And pies.

Prepare to fall in love.

I have.

A Game Of Two Halves

You say yes, I say no

You say stop, I say go go go

Oh no

You say goodbye and I say hello

Hello Hello

I don't know why you say goodbye I say..er.. hello

The Greatest Story Ever Told

Are you getting into the Christmas spirit yet ?

I went to a market on Sunday and got most of my shopping done.

So as the cards start to come in I'm beginning to get a little festive warmth creeping in.

Wondering what football goodies Father Christmas might bring me.

Looking forward to having time to watch cheap football videos my lover has bought from the 99p shop.

And getting in touch with the spiritual side of things.

Including, of course, the greatest story ever told.

Yes Butt...................

What is it that we can identify as humans that sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom?

Beautiful art maybe?

Our ability to laugh, perhaps?

Or maybe it's the things we don't do.

Or do in a more refined way.

Conflict management might be one that springs to mind.

However, some it would seem, are closer to our ancestors than others.

Keep It In The Family

I have 3 sons..

There's Gooner Junior who you know about.

My one stepson is a Liverpool fan (but we won't hold that against him) and lives locally, although I haven't seen him for a while.

My other stepson lives in America with his wife and son whom I have yet to meet.

They are returning to England to live early next year, which will be fantastic.

Anyway Richard being a bang at it Chel$ea and mad bonkers England fan, I reckon there will be an added dimension to my football world, especially during the World Cup.

And it will be useful to have some insider knowledge on the London boys in blue.

You never know we might, - just very possible on an extremely outside chance of possibilities - might, be playing them next season.

With my step daughter being a ManUre fan we'll have representation within the family from each of the top four and - erm - The Foxes........Sorted !

(HL Says Something bad is happening-two matches lost on the bounce.....I'm scared for her)

Watching Me Watching You

I have been on leave today with my lover.

We have been down to Shepton Mallet to play tunes to a group of older prisoners.

We got there early so wandered into town to savour the delights.

It felt a long hour and a half.

Exacerbated by a particularly disturbing public toilet experience.

Now before you get too excited, it was just me and a voice.

All started well as I shut the door and the lights came on and the wonderful Moonlight Sonata struck up in the background.

After making use of the facility, I pressed the symbol and as if by magic the flush was operated.

Then it all took a much more sinister turn.

I put my hands into the sink in the wall as indicated.

The sign said soap would be dispensed automatically, followed by water and warm air.

Nothing.

I waved my hands around inside the sink.

Still nothing.

Then the voice.

"This toilet is protected by security. Your time is limited. You will be told when it is time to leave".

'"B****r the water", I thought, "I'm a celebrity. Get me out of here".

Relief that the door opened.

And to crown it all - bumping into a sign that said "Mendip District Council. The cleanest District Council in the country".

If my experiences were any indication of what might await any anti-social behaviour of the messy kind, I'm not surprised.

Anyway, to get to the football denouement of this tale.

We arrived at prison at about 6.30pm.

We performed a set in two halves.

Not of this standard of course but the audience was appreciative.

We got chatting afterwards.

To a Glaswegian man who had been inside for years.

A Partick Thistle fan interestingly.

No truck with the Old Firm.

If only we had known beforehand, we could have learnt some of these.

At His Majesty's Service

The name's Tevez.

Carlos Tevez.

Licensed to thrill.

MU5 agent 007.

At His Majesty's Service.

Let's hear it for Agent Tevez.

Woops!

"It happens to every team from time to time", said my lover.

He was referring to an unexpected and thumping defeat.

Of the 5-1 variety.

It's a weird feeling.

Sort of humiliating.

And I am pretty sure it is the worst loss since I have been supporting The Foxes.

Even through all of the pain of the 2007/8 season I don't recall such a memorable kicking.

Maybe I've just been spoilt recently as those Foxy boys continue in their ascendancy.

So I'm consoling myself that you can't learn to waterski without getting wet.

Yanks A Lot

You're 'avin' a larf!

Mr Landon Donovan.

There's not going to be anything 'fun' about playing England.

And you are not a patch on our Lamps and St Stevie of Me.

So don't even go there.

As The Sun newspaper so aptly put it.

Yanks a lot!

Fou Ou Génie?

I'm something of a Wenger fan as you know.

I believe him to be iconic in his own way..

As does my son, Junior Goonier (whose name I have decided to change to Gooner Junior - just because I can)

But sometimes it is hard to defend some of his antics.

Including his latest apparent lack of grace, over, it would seem, someone metaphorically kicking their ball over the fence into his garden.

Interestingly a feature of a number of previous encounters has been his accusation that others are losing their grip on reality (Ferguson, Mourhino).

And this latest incident has caused the mighty Guardian to set up a referendum on the question "Is Arsene Wenger losing it?".

At the point I took the poll over 68% of voters thought not.

But I want to know what you, my dedicated readers, think.

Fou ou génie ?

Vous décidez.

Arsene Wenger. Madman or Genius?
He's so cuckoo he should be in an Alpine clock
Einstein pales into insignificance next to him
He has his moments but don't all talented people?
It is 'ard to say. I did not see eeet.
He should be forced to resign from Arsenal and sent to manage Leicester City

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Questions Of The Day

Can sheep really write?

Tevez a Rooneyphile?

When will the Arse learn how to turn their wonderful interpretation of the game into a consistent invincibility?

Have you heard the one about the joking Italian?

Does he really think we are that stupid?

Answers on a postcard please.

Personality Crisis

So if football is the national game, you would expect the BBC Sports Personality of the Year shortlist to feature at least 2 or 3 leading proponents of the beautiful game.

Wayne Rooney perhaps.

Not simply for his consistent, committed and talent performances on the pitch.

But for being an 'ordinary lad' who remembers where he comes from and is learning to become master of himself.

Or what about John Terry (I'm feeling a little bit sick saying this. He's a bit unsavoury in many ways but....)?

Loyal to his Chel$ea (nothing to do with his fat wage packet of course). The rock of England.

But no. What do we get?

Ryan Giggs.

Great footballer - yes.

But surely the whole point of the contest is the Personality has to have one?

Who would I vote for?

Well I'd drop a line to the powers that be and ask them to add an extra place and add Jimmy Bullard to the list.

Second time lucky eh?

How Cheap Am I?

I'm a girl of high principles as you know.

But sometimes I can be tempted and led astray.

Seduced by a promise of fame and fortune.

Or lured by the promise of beautiful gifts.

Of course being a blogger of some stature, I receive lots of requests (well one a week at least), to put commercial links and advertisements on my blog.

But I have decided this blog should remain dedicated to its original purpose of bringing enlightenment to all girls who can't do football and not get sidetracked by other agendas.

Anyway, usually such emails get little more than a cursory glance from me, if they are lucky.

But my attention was drawn this evening to one entitled "Swap a t-shirt for a link?".

So now you know how cheap I really am.

Because the link is now displayed proudly on the left hand side of this blog.

And I'm gonna get one of these!

A Mother's Love

I love my Mum.

(It's HL Here, responding to GB's latest)

She's let me on after a hard day doing the following.

Chopping. Fixing. Shopping. Eating. ........ Phew !

Then this.

GB started this blog about three years ago. Over the ups and downs of the last few years, therefore, I really do believe she has come to adore the Beautiful Game. Part of that fixation comes from not just the Glamour, but also the passion and the Pain.

When a boy's team trips over, you just gotta be there. She understands !

I think probably, reluctantly, some girls can do football.

HL

Grit Your Teeth Son

I am feeling my boy's pain this evening.

Losing 0 - 3 is not a nice experience.

I'm plucking up the courage to give him a call.

It's important to prepare properly though.

One insensitive word could be enough to send him into a descending spiral of despair.

It's about striking the balance between a sympathetic ear and not being patronising.

He needs to grieve in his own way of course.

And lets face it times are tough.

Van Persie out for four months.

Developing a slippery grip on the top of the table.

One of those 'grit your teeth' moments.

Hang in there son!

Nice Touch

I have had a touching day one way or another.

Touched by football of course.

Following all this afternoon's action.

I had a short nap this afternoon following a late night with friends yesterday.

I awoke to my lover telling me The Foxes were 0 - 1 up at half time.

As I was putting on makeup, ready to go out a while later, I smudged my mascara when I heard Scunthorpe had scored in the dying moments of the match!

Anyway, we went to a complex where older people live and spent a delightful couple of hours playing music to them.

We were made very welcome.

More wonderfully, we got the chance to talk to many of the people there about football and life.

A World War II bomber pilot who was also a Liverpool supporter.

A Glaswegian woman who thought the most sensible thing that could happen in football is for each player to be given a ball and save them having to battle over just one (I think perhaps she may be missing the point but who am I to question my elders?) and who misses her home country with a passion.

And some there stuggling with various disabilties, yet all still managing to sing along to this.

Talking of "we'll meet again", I loved a certain goal celebration today.

Nice touch.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

You think men's football is tough?

You wanna try being a woman.

Even when you win 3 - o you get berated (obviously women can't give a b********g because they aren't equipped).

We always get the blame, no matter how unjust.

It's a hard life - when all you really want to do is have fun.

Football Is Revolting

Football is revolting.

Well bits of it are anyway.

From Scottish football heartland to the powerful voice of a Mariner.

The 2018 World Cup Bid team are in the process of mutiny and beset by calls for change.

But amongst it all.

The loudest voice raised above the cacophony..........

Is that of Mrs Sam Allardyce.

Who says "Leave my man alone. He's mine and I'm going to take care of him. You can have him back when he is ready. Not before"

And you wouldn't argue with that, would you?

Spit Not Swallow

There are some people you would just not want to follow into a job as football manager aren't there?

Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsene Wenger for instance.

And of course 'Arry Redknapp.

It is hard for such situations to be anything but a poison chalice.

As Paul Hart has found out.

But lo - who is that waiting in the wings?

Could AG have been brought in from the start as a prospective replacement?

Surely not............!

Lets hope if he does take over the reins he remembers the golden rule.

If you are sipping from the poison chalice and want to stay safe - remember to spit not swallow.

Satisfaction Guaranteed Or Your Money Back

We were lucky on Saturday weren't we?

I was doing our radio show with my lover as we battled Plymouth but kept a beady eye on the results. We were busy concentrating on ending the show as they went into extra time so it was a lovely surprise to learn about Andy King's last minute goal to give us the three points and shoot us up to third in the Championship.

Who ever would have predicted that we would not only get promoted to the Championship as winners of Division One last year but that we would be pressing for a play off place?

I mean I know it is still not half way through the season and there is a long way to go, but it's not so many months ago that watching Leicester play was more of a masochistic trial than a pleasure.

Never so bad we got our ticket money refunded though.

Bad Day At The Office?

Ever had one of those days at work when you wish you hadn't bothered to get out of bed, let alone turn up?

Probably the Everton players yesterday.

Definitely the Wigan team tonight.

Almost certainly the journalist on the receiving end of this steely stare.

And probably Wigan warrant another mention.

Bet that dressing room was a bit subdued after the match.

Back to practice first thing tomorrow lads!

GL+GS=P

I'm a girl of few failings as you can imagine.

One weakness I would have to own in relation to football, however, is a propensity to believe in the equation;

"Good Looks (GL) + Good Skills (GS) = Perfection (P)".

Somehow I find it harder to notice fault in those with the 'F' factor.

It has helped me understand others who sometimes struggle to see what's in front of them.

What it means in practice is that whilst the rest of the world is shouting "dirty cheat", I'm falling under his spell.

And as I publicly denounce such outrageous behaviour, what I'm secretly thinking is "That really was a very sexy turn of hand".

Which leads me to conclude that either I'm right and the rest of the world is wrong.

Or I'm not at good as maths as I thought.

You Either Love It Or Hate It

I have reached something of a milestone with this blog.

Tomorrow will be my 900th post.

And yesterday I had over 1000 hits - the highest ever.

Since I started I have had almost 167,000 hits.

All this from a girl who less than 3 years ago was not only disinterested in football but had an active dislike for it.

Since that first tentative step on 7th March 2007 I have gradually found myself sucked into this magical world.

And now I am a fanatic.

A bit like something else we know, you either love it or hate it!

Everybody's Talking About It

I feel as if I am in the presence of history in the making.

A legend is starting to form.

A moment in time is becoming an iconic image.

Everybody's talking about it.

The British.

The Americans.

The Swedes.

Even the French themselves.

It will be one of these stories that gets added to the small group of World Cup stories that even the most peripheral football fan knows.

Like this one.

Or this one.

And of course this one.

I think, therefore, on balance, we can conclude that he didn't get away with it.

He might not be the only one.

Hand Of Frog

Ooh dear!

Half time in extra time.

France vs Ireland in the World Cup Qualifying Play-offs.

And the commentators I have been listening to on Talk Sport are not happy at all.

"It's a disgrace"

"Will the officials be brave enough to take retrospective action?"

The cause of their ire?

A goal, amply assisted by two blatant Thierry Henry handballs.

"Thierry Henry has committed professional suicide. He'll forever be remembered for that moment".

Over egging it?

Maybe.

But he wouldn't be the first to become imfamous for winning with their hands as well as their feet in the World Cup competition.

And if France were to win?

As the man on Talk Sport said, tonight's incident will go down in history as "The Hand of Frog"

Wayleen.

Would you like to have a marriage like Coleen and the Roo?

Well before you sneer too much, let me tell you they have the success factors needed to ensure they stay together.

Apparently.

And girls, should you decide to follow the lovely Coleen's example and find your perfect partner, you might appreciate some tips on how to enhance your chances of a good catch.

Then you too could be as happy as these two.

Aaahhh!

Back To Nature

I'm a great believer in looking for ways to involve nature in the healing process.

One of my biggest regrets is that I did not take more time to learn what my grandmother had to tell about such things before she died.

Even so I found one story I read today something of a challenge.

I mean it's one thing knowing that spitting on a dock leaf and rubbing it on a nettle sting is an effective way of lessening its impact.

Or that a pine cone can tell you what weather is on the way according to whether it is open or closed.

But somehow this seems a step to far.

Unless of course they have found a source of this fluid that could bring something more than ordinary healing.

Perhaps a couple of weeks ago they identified somewhere they could get this extra quality.

Maybe some strike power to add to that already there.

Now wouldn't that be something!

Over There

It's amazing, isn't it, how sometimes a game of football has the capacity to command your complete attention to the exclusion of everything else around you?

And then of course there are times when it doesn't.

I meant to pay close attention to it.

I sat down and watched the national anthems and minute's silence for Enke.

I noted that Rooney was Captain.

And then my mind started to wander.

Not helped by my lover, who was equally vulnerable to the odd distraction.

So whilst we kept one eye on those poor boys battling their hearts out in the background, we found ourselves dipping in to You Tube.

Which proved to be a roller coaster experience.

The shock of the realisation I will never listen to Alan Brazil with the same respect again.

The eyes raised to heaven when My Lover puts this on, whilst claiming he did it for me.

The rather surreal awe of watching silkworms.

Then the "let's play it just one more time" not to be missed footage of cats riding a hoover.

And back to the football.

It's all gone quiet over there.

A Special Moment

Do you know that feeling when you haven't had something you really like for a while and have even stopped consciously missing it?

Like the first taste of Baileys around Christmas.

Or the early summer sun on your skin.

I had such a moment today.

You watched me enjoying it before.

What an unexpected delight then to come across this in the paper.

Just remember.

You heard it here first.