First game, first trip of the season to the pub. Frustrating afternoon in Scouseland for the not so glorious yellows. Lovely though it was to see the opposition keeper throwing the ball into his own net for a change, it was two points lost rather than one gained. And just to add to the enjoyment I had to put up with a drunk, who invited himself into the spare chair next to me and proceeded to bend my ear about everything and nothing, including the opinion that Mancunians and Liverpudlians were 'voyous', and a bizarre obsession with how close each London club was to the Thames. Still, at least his allegiance switched from Scouser to Gooner in the space of twenty minutes. Perhaps it was my glowering that did the trick...
Elsewhere, the epilogue to les Bleus World Cup debacle is taking place this afternoon in Paris. Result: 15 match ban for the hotheaded catalyst, and 5, 3 and 1 match bans for the strike ringleaders. May that be the last of it.
Apart from the afternoon in the pub, the only activity of note over the weekend: a stroll along the river for lunch on Saturday, and a sortie to Les Halles by la bienheureuse in the midst of a cooking frenzy on a cool and rainy Sunday. The resulting fish pie, crumble and carrot cake are going down very nicely. Must try and do some more exercise…
