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.

Thunderbolts And Lightening Very Very Frightening

There are tempestuous days ahead.

There has been a small rainstorm brewing for some time.

And now the storm clouds are really starting to gather.

The winds are beginning to howl.

I tell you, there's going to be a hurricane.

Don't believe me?

Well just remember what happened last time they dismissed such a warning.

Not In My Back Yard

It's official then.

Hadrian's wall was built for a reason.

The Premiership doesn't want the Old Firm on their manor.

This is a local game for local people.

Well apart from Cardiff and Swansea that is.

"Neither desirable nor viable".

I presume that refers to the proposal as opposed to the Scots themselves.

The Burning Question

Three Tommies sat in a trench one day,
Discussing the war, in the usual way,
They talked of the mud, and they talked of the Hun,
Of what was to do, and what had been done,
They talked about rum, and – ’tis hard to believe –
They even found time to speak about leave.
But the point which they argued from post back to pillar,
Was whether Notts County could beat Aston Villa.

The night sped away, and zero drew nigh,
Equipment made ready, all lips getting dry,
And watches consulted with each passing minute
Till five more to go, then ‘twould find them all in it;
The word came along down the line to “get ready!”
The sergeants admonishing all to keep steady,
But out rang a voice getting shriller and shriller:
“I tell yer Notts County can beat Aston Villa!”

The Earth shook and swayed, and the barrage was on
As they leapt o’er the top with a rush and were gone
Away into Hunland, through mud and through wire,
Stabbing and dragging themselves through the mire,
No time to heed those who are falling en route
Till, stopped by a strong point, they lay down to shoot,
Then, through the din came a voice: “Say, Jack Miller!
I tell yer Notts County can beat Aston Villa!”

The strong point has gone, and forward they press
Towards their objective, in numbers grown less
They reach it at last, and prepare to resist
The counter-attack which will come through the mist
Of the rain falling steadily; dig and hang on,
The word for support back to H.Q. has gone,
The air, charged with moment, grows stiller and stiller –
“Notts County’s no earthly beside Aston Villa.”

Two “Blighties”, a struggle through mud to get back
To the old A.D.S. down a rough duck-board track,
A hasty field dressing, a ride in a car,
A wait in a C.C.S., then there they are:
Packed side by side in a clean Red Cross train,
Happy in hopes to see Blighty again,
Still, through the bandages, muffled, “Jack Miller,
I bet you Notts County can beat Aston Villa!”

Anon. Published in Wipers Times, November 1917

For Bees A Jolly Good Fellow

Long term readers of this blog may remember that my dad was very ill a few months ago.

It was a difficult time.

But I kept the faith and he emerged the other side.

Since then he has faced huge challenges, not least of which was that his kidneys failed and he has been on dialysis since.

3 days a week lying for 4 hours then feeling wiped out for the rest of the day.

And he has proved himself the man he is.

He has scraped himself up off the floor and turned to face this onslaught head on.

Losing weight. Exercising. Being disciplined.

Today he has heard that his kidneys are working again sufficiently to stop the dialysis, subject to close monitoring to check they are coping.

And he is considering taking up bee keeping.

Which is probably the most rock and roll idea he has ever had.

What a man.

Like I said before he has yet to have his moment.

But he will.

Maybe he will even become a Brentford fan.

A Man Of Constant Sorrow

"It's not good enough", he protested as we wound our way back up the hill to our house.

'He' being My Lover of course.

"Benitez has got to go".

It was a great match to watch.

But Liverpool would have suffered another defeat, at home, if they hadn't cheated (the dive that resulted in a penalty was outrageous).

That's what has upset my lover the most I think.

"I know cheating goes on but I can't bear to think of one of my team doing it".

It didn't feel the right time to point to St Stevie of Me and mention his odd dramatic tumble to the floor.

He fears the worse.

He says until something dramatic happens, he is doomed to constant sorrow.

Millionaires Need Not Apply

My lover and I went to Reading today to visit two long standing friends of my lover.

Neither are football fans but both are two of the most delightful people you could wish to meet.

Anyway, prior to having a wonderful lunch and afternoon of laughter and music, my lover took the backroads to his old home town.

As we drove through country lanes past ground bounded by fences he said "Behind there is John Madjeski's house."

Three years ago I would not have had a clue what he was talking about.

Now of course I know he is the Chairman and indeed saviour of Reading Football Club.

Having raised the club from the brink of oblivion right up to the Premiership during recent times, he has said that he would sell the club to the right buyer, provided they are rich enough.

Apparently though, unless you are a billionaire, you'd be wasting your time applying.

You certainly need deep pockets if you are going to buy and improve a football club.

And lets hope it starts to become 'de rigeur' to include support for the mainstreaming of women's football.

I Never Felt More Like Singing The Blues

Self pity is an unattractive quality in a person I have to concede.

Except when I am the subject of course.

For a girl who rarely gets sick, having a heavy cold has proved something of a challenge.

And as if that wasn't bad enough in itself, The Foxes lost at home today 1 -2 (it would have been 0 2 had it not been for a 90 minute goal by Berner).

Even Bolton getting duffed up 5 -1 by Villa wasn't enough to cheer me up.

My lover, however, who can be sensitive on such occasions (known for his sensitivity across 5 counties in fact he tells me!), has found just the thing to drive away my blues.

Changing my desktop picture to one of David Beckham in his underpants was nothing short of inspired.

I feel a night on the computer coming on...........................

Keeping An Eye On The Kid

As you will have gathered I have been somewhat distracted this week.

Blocked sinus' and a red nose are neither nice to live with nor pretty.

But hey - Foxes are fighters so here I am bouncing back and catching up on football news.

Which included a report of our match against QPR which we won 1 2 at Loftus Road.

Within that story, I noticed something interesting.

Something very interesting indeed.

For amongst that crowd was a certain Fabio Capello.

Maybe he was at a loose end.

Maybe he was there to watch someone in The Hoops.

Or maybe - just maybe - he has an eye on our Matty.............................

Caught Napping!

Oh dear!

I'm very sorry about last night.

It all got a bit much...............

What I was going to talk about was the number of times West Ham have been fighting legal cases in the last 2-3 years. The various Premiership and court cases regarding the Tevez affair. Now losing an employment tribunal.

I hope the Hammers' lawyers are not on performance related pay!

Anyway the cold is a bit better today (thanks for asking!), so I'm hoping I won't be caught napping tonight when I settle down with my lover to watch the Liverpool match later in front of our cosy woodburner.

After all, if the worst should happen, it is important he knows he'll never have to walk alone.

I'm forever blowing bubbles

I think I may have discovered what West Ham's problem is.

Their poor results may indeed be symptomatic of some problems with the manager, who some are suggesting is a leading contender for the sack race.

I think it is likely to have more to do with where the club focuses its attention, which it has to be said does not appear to feature football that predominantly.

At this point of Georgina's blog, she fell asleep at the computer, after a very hard day and, readers, a heavy cold. Thus, it is me, HL finishing things for the evening.

At work today, I spoke with a guy on a groupwork programme about The Hammers (he was wearing an ancient top from the mid eighties)

Bang at it supporter and a total believer in Zola "if the f......... board can sort it out"

Anyway....it's a debate. She'll be back tomorrow to fill you in.

Just to say, I thought tonight's outburst by Raffa "when you walk through a storm" etc etc etc, sat a little unhappily on his shoulders.

HL

Roo'd Better Believe It!

"Roo'd" better believe it !

He's a Dad.

Bless 'im!

His ears will be filled with beautiful bird song.

Although he may have the odd one or two of these.

New born babies can be very demanding.

But they make you smile too.

Congratulations to both!

What Lengths Would You Go To?

What would you be prepared to do for the beautiful game?

What lengths would you go to?

Not these surely.

Would you demonstrate your love by doing this?

I have to say neither of those particularly appeal.

Or what about getting yourself into hot water for the passion of it all?

There must be a limit surely?

But then again - maybe being prepared to go to excessive lengths is how to be successful in the world of football.