It's an unusual thing for me to be too busy too blog. Hmmm... that almost sounds as though I'm a pregnant, upper-class, too posh to push woman. Almost but not. Which is good. Because I am neither pregnant or upper-class.
Having said that I was busy, I am currently refining my elastic band flicking technique. Encouragingly I seem to be making good progress. At the very least my sister is starting to look a little nervous whenever I line up a shot at her.
Football tonight. I have mixed emotions. Whilst I am obviously keen for our lads to get the necessary result, I can't help but think that it might give a helpful kick up the backside to the national game if we failed to qualify. I'm not a great football fan at the best of times but it is patently obvious to me that the game has lately become distorted and damaged. I was rather cultured last night and watched a portion of the Alan Yentob BBC programme Imagine. One of the overriding themes of the film was the negligible relationship between the quality of art and the money it sells for. Well it appears to me that football has a similar problem. These days, at the top end of competition, the amount of money changing hands between clubs and players, fans, managers and shareholders has little to do with the actual value of a club's commodities. No footballer is worth over £100,000 a week. In fact in my opinion no footballer is worth more than £5,000 a week. Supporters shouldn't have to pay such extortionate ticket prices merely to line the already already heavy pockets of the players and club owners. Football needs to get back to football. There is only so much superficiality and glamour a sport can take before it ceases to be a sport. Rugby has the right balance at the moment but I shudder to think of a day when the current problems of football in this country are shared by rugby union. Football needs to stop the rot now. But it never will. Money is the only currency these days (please forgive the pun) and it'd be a foolish man to bet on that changing any time soon.