South London sunshine.

it’s that point in the year where winter has retreated, there’s still an increase in temperature around the corner, there’s still the crushing inevitability of rain that will destroy this transition to spring. However, right now, there is a glowing ball of orange radiating light and heat. Our garden is in bloom. There are bluebells, white and purple, white blossom, red berries, magnolias, things grafted on to rose stock that look like roses but might not be.

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We ended up living in the run down mansion with the overgrown, English, ornamental garden because a house sale fell through. We’ve been here since December, it’s been exciting listening to the sounds of West Norwood. It’s been interesting watching the garden become this thing of colour and life. Of particular interest to all 3 of us is the pond. There are newts. NEWTS!
There’s possibly a fox that hangs out here, almost certainly some cats, definitely rats. They have to be here. I would if I was a rat.

South London sunshine.

Books

People who know me, will probably know I love Roy (pbuh).
I love phrases about Roy (pbuh)by Rob Smyth:

Roy Keane, whose business face should be the subject of a modernist painting entitled simply: ‘Standards’.

As a player, he was of his time by not being of his time: he captured the pre-millennium angst of the outsider who cannot understand the world of which he is part

“First tackle, first pass, first touch, everything counts. A lot of little things add up to the thing that matters: breaking the opposition’s hearts – but first their minds, their collective mind.”

I love this about Roy (pbuh)

I wish this had landed

I don’t love Ibra. Who would? He’s a showpony right? He’s not won anything that counts. I’d like to see what he can do on a wet Wednesday in Stoke against Ryan Shawcross.
Well I didn’t. Then there were a couple of things in this article , by Lars Sivertsen, that went off like a gong in my head.

“Then Guardiola started his philosopher thing. I was barely listening. Why would I? It was advanced bullshit about blood, sweat and tears, that kind of stuff.”

“You are not using my capacity. If it was a goalscorer you wanted, you should have bought Inzaghi or someone. I need space and to be free. I can’t run up and down constantly. I weigh 98 kilos. I don’t have the physique for it.”

For a long time I would have thought you were a moron if
you told me that an ugly goal was worth as much as a beautiful one. But now I
was starting to understand — no one will thank you for your tricks and backheels if your team loses.

Reading some extracts about Pirlo from here make me want to read more about him.

I’m reading Hunger, about Sean Kelly.
The only things I know about Sean Kelly are:
He’s nails
He’s quiet
He won a lot of races
He goes out training when others go back to bed

Being completely unaware of cycling throughout the 1980s and 1990s, I’ve been enjoying the book. I don’t like the comparison of footballers with cyclists, sprinters as strikers, domestiques in the Makélélé role, there’s a comparison to be made with the relentless drive for excellence. And the way it’s achieved, attention to detail, effort, mind games, bursts of physical violence to yourself and others.

Really, this is just an excuse for me to post some quotes about Roy (pbuh) and tell you I’m reading/have nearly finished reading a book about someone I see with similar qualities (thanks to the writing of Lionel Birnie and Eamonn Dunphy).

Books