Other Stuff

Hippety-Hop

It’s a funny old thing having an Australian manager (albeit with Greek origins) and playing like a load of wimps. If they’re anything at all, Aussie sportspeople are tough, gritty, stubborn, hard to beat but, my goodness, it’s taking the sainted Ange a very long time to get that through to his/my tottering Totspurs.

You may have noticed that there wasn’t a mention of football in the blog last week but this week I’m hot, weary, a tad disillusioned and up crops the not-so-beautiful game at the forefront of my thoughts. On Sunday, I watched us help Liverpool celebrate their latest title in grand style at Anfield. We scored first – “that’ll be 6-1 to you, then,” sez I to my Liverpool-supporting viewing mate – and I wasn’t far wrong. They won 5-1 and we dutifully faded from the scene to leave the Reds to their joyous celebrations.

How we Lilywhites (does that moniker have to make us lily-livered?) long for something to cheer about. Will we ever again win even an egg cup?

Yesterday (Thursday night), in the first leg of the semi-final of the Europa League, we were 3-nil up at home against Bodo/Glimt of Norway but failed to be ruthless and kill them off. Instead we did that hideous Spursy thing of falling asleep, allowing them a moment of skill and conceding a late goal. Now we have to trek to their place, north of the Arctic Circle and play them on their artificial pitch, where they don’t lose many matches and feel completely at home. It might even be snowing. At least we managed to beat Tamworth, the mighty Lambs, on their artificial pitch earlier this season. Is that an omen?

I wasn’t there last night and I won’t be in Norway and I think I’m even more down in the mouth because earlier in the week I marvelled at the skills of Paris St Germain, Barcelona and Inter Milan. If we win the Europa League (come on girl, be optimistic), we’ll be in the Champions League with the big boys, so at least we’d see some of the world’s best at Tottenham Hotspur Stadium.

Word is Ange will be getting the sack whatever happens but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We’ve been very good at sacking managers over the last few seasons, not giving anybody a chance to lay solid foundations and build a decent team. We’ve mostly been pretty dreadful this season after early flashes of brilliance but I’d be inclined to back our Aussie and help him sort us out. I think I’m in a minority, though, possibly of one.

Spurs fans unhappy with the way things are going. Are we looking for a Russian oligarch, a Saudi prince or just any old billionaire?

It’s not often that I feel sorry for Arsenal fans, our biggest rivals and much more successful than us recently with quite a lot to crow about. They looked very good beating Real Madrid home and away to reach the semis of the Champions League but then PSG made them look ordinary on Tuesday night at the Emirates.

Mo and I were at Belfast International having a Guinness waiting for our flight back home and I’d noticed a fair few Arsenal shirts in the bar. They were heading for the match, via Stansted and it wasn’t a relaxing experience. Their Ryanair flight, scheduled to leave at 1545, had gone to “Est 1700”. Oops.

The board tells the story.

Now I was starting to feel uncomfortable for them and hoping that the pilot wasn’t a Spurs supporter. A couple of the younger fans were getting a bit upset and agitated and getting to the ground for kick-off at 2000 was beginning to look like a big ask. It takes about an hour and a quarter from Aldergrove (aka Belfast International) to Stansted and the flight was still on the ground at 1730. It landed about 1848, so if they made it to the ground via Tottenham Hale and Finsbury Park in time for the first and – luckily for Arsenal – only goal of the game (O. Dembélé – 4 mins), they’d have done brilliantly.

Concentrating on what he can control….

However, this is how some of us seasoned travellers choose to relax at an airport…

Just don’t travel with a nutritionist!

You know those days when you wait in for the electrician, the gas man, the broadband installer? Well, the trick is to phone a friend and ask them to do it for you. So, profuse thanks to Mike for being kind enough to say yes to my request and wait around all day to oversee the installation of my new, fast fibre broadband. The phone still has to be sorted but the internet seems to be all systems ago – impossibly long password having been tapped in successfully.

And there’s nothing like a jigsaw to pass the time, so the Isles of Scilly monster is well on its way to completion; well done Michael.

Just a few pieces of blue to battle with now but can I claim any of the credit?

Mo and I had a great time in Ireland, enjoying sea, sand and reconnecting with old friends. The weather was very good and here are some pics to prove it…