I did follow England’s efforts in this morning’s World Cup Final, but I didn’t go watch it anywhere organised, I don’t like watching football on the TV whomever is playing. But they lost, so in lieu of pictures of any celebrations, here is an indication that August might finally be giving summer a go. I don’t know what these flowers are, sorry, but there are plenty of them blooming down by the market at the moment.
Going to see a football match is such a simple, harmless thing, and no one is compelled to do it. Our Glorious Leader and some associated bureaucrats, desperate to deflect blame away from the fact they’ve all been promoted above their level of competence, are desperate to take this pleasure away. Region is being played off against region, town against town, neighbour against neighbour even, and simple, harmless things are suddenly not so simple any more. What a farce all this has been, and a no-deal Brexit still to come.
This is about half an hour before kick off at Atherton Collieries’ very fine little ground, by the way. The hosts were smiling at the end — the scoreboard read 5-0 by full time.
Another Manchester pic, making six out of the last eight. A new role at work means it’s likely I’ll be spending more time there than has been the case over the last few years, so expect more of this kind of thing… if you’re still following this visual diary of mine, anyway.
As I move into the second year of this blog, some things are going to recur. Some of them at the same time each year (tomorrow, for example, Clare is running Alice’s Run again), others at different times, like this one. Here we are at Turf Moor, Burnley, for this season’s match-up between Burnley FC and my beloved Brighton & Hove Albion. Last season it took place in April, on a cold, grey day – and the match (and result) lived up to those conditions. Today, earlier in the season, much sunnier and warmer, and a happier trip for the travelling Seagulls. Burnley 1, Brighton 3.
Being 42 