Merry Blooming Xmas Cardiff City

Yesterday saw the final end of Sam I am at Ninian Park. He had to leave his own way though, causing as much stress and strife as possible. The story is he was after an extra £10m guaranteed payments if/when City get promoted and stay up. Clearly he walked away with something more than he was originally going to get. Which presumably means less for City. As I write it has appeared on a BBC website that he demanded and got a further £500,000 plus a bizarre payment of £90,000 to his brother. I am at a loss as to why he is being wished well but so many fans though. Frankly, good riddance. The argument in his favour goes: "He saved us from the dungeon, without him we'd still be in the low divisions". Well that may be true: but I have no doubt the bugger was trying to get as much out of City as possible, and I would love to see his balance sheet at the end of the day: what's the betting he leaves City with a tidy profit?

He is a strange man though: despite all the above, he loves to be loved and admired, and clearly has a love of football and an affection for Cardiff City (and their traditional cypress tree - an interesting aside: this was the Lebanese businessman's suggestion for City's logo). I wonder how long he will be seen hanging about at Ninian Park though, as life president?

As I write City are playing away at Leicester. I was going to go, but various circumstances prevented this from happening, so I'm listening to Richard Shepherd commentate (he's actually a second cousin of mine) for the City site. Leicester are on top and our character from Pride and Prejudice has just come on: Darcy Blake, instead of an injured Ricky Scimeca. And Josh Low has gone off for Leicester. I used to like Low when he played for us, but he was one of those players who fans decide they don't like no matter how well they play: a bit like poor Rhys Weston. It's a strange phenomenon. Others, like Ainsworth, are loved, despite how rubbish they are.

Anyway, ten minutes into the second half and we're not losing. Of course this means I now can't stop typing until the end of the game, thus turning this blog entry into one of the most pointless accounts of a match ever written. So although I'm writing I'll only cover the key points. Like Julian jenkins (helping Richard Shepard out on the radio) getting annoyed about Purse fouling pointlessly. That's a pointless annoyance about a pointless foul. Purse will do this until he can't run any more. Just like he will get sent off a couple of times a season and give away too many penalties.

I received my Thin Blue Line this morning. My column was pretty weak, but I have to say it was the worst edition I have read in a long time. Too much stuff on Hammam: which was too generous (back to the game: Gilbert's gone off, Alan "short arse" Wright has come on. Jenkins reckons it's because Gilbert's not fit enough to play any longer. Nor Wright. I can't wait for the transfer opening to window - joke). The worst thing in TBL was the comment about Hammam leaving us in "safe hands". Unbelievably this wasn't a joke. Peter bloody Ridsdale, "safe hands". You have to laugh or else you'll cry. Hey Leeds fans! Did you hear that? Peter Ridsdale: "safe hands"!! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Jeeeeeesus. Strange below par edition all round though. Maybe Andrew's had enough? I wonder if he'll read this? And answer me? As you can see from the image on the left he's being doing this a long time. I only joined in an issue later I think. As you can see from the headline very little has actually changed at the club. Better covers on TBL now, though, and I liked the donkey joke.

This is a picture of Darcy Blake. A good looking young man, you might think. But it turns out this isn't the Darcy Blake who plays for City, but a dancer who you find when you do a google image search. I'll see if I can find a picture of the City Darcy Blake. Here you go, on the right here. At least I think that's him. Hard to tell given the paucity of phtos on the web. He seems to be playing well, but I wonder if the other Darcy Blake would be better? Back at the game, still 0-0 with 20 minutes to go. Sounds like Leicester are the better side, but we're getting the odd chance: Purse just headed a corner over the bar. Probably fouled someone at the same time.

Suddenly all over them! Sounds like we should have scored, with chances for Purse and Parry. Oops as i say that Leicester get a corner. 15 minutes to go. Leicester score: offside: phew. Cheers Linesman. still 0-0, 12 minutes to go Richard tells me.

I've killed a few minutes by uploading a few of the above pictures: it's an interesting experience looking for TBL on the web. I found this image on a German website for fanzines. Meanwhile Chopra has missed a sitter according to Jenkins, "A real chance" according to Richard Shepherd. How long to go Richard?" Inside the last minute of normal time". Thanks. Julian Jenkins very impressed with Darcy Blake, who looks "such a footballer". 3 minutes added time. Inside stoppage time. 0-0. Wright goes forward on the left. Sounds more confusing than it reads. Nothing happens. Thompson failed to control the ball (not for the first time). Jenkins is criticising our forwards' form. What's that coming over the hill? The transfer window. Into the third minute of stppage time. Swansea have equalised. Birmingham winning 4-0 at Southend. Final whistle. 0-0. A draw is ok. Better than last week by a looooooong way. And i'm glad to have done my part, without having to have run from the crisp bowl to the station. Richard's wishing me a Merry Christmas. (Well, to be fair it was to all his listeners) So Merry Christmas to him too. And all his listeners.

If it was Christmas every day it would be very inconvenient

M and I discussed this today. It's a ridiculous song: "I wish it could be Xmas every day". It would be really annoying: while you m ight think it would lead to daily presents. meals etc the problem would arise: where do you buy the food from? Where would you get the presents? And if you think about it it gets worse: who would work every day? All the moslems, hindus and jews. Who wouldn't be happy at such blatent religious discrimination. In fact they would have a damn good case in law. Mind you the courts would never be open to hear the cases so that's that problem's dealt with. But there are other issues: Christmas telly every day? God no. How many "Christmas Specials" can you take? How many episodes of James Bond? And what about Boxing Day football? It would never happen! What a disaster! No no no no no no no no no no no. It doesn't work. Boxing Day every day though, there's something to consider.

Bloody cold

Winter is biting. The weather's turned cold. Scraping ice off the car, hands freezing, searching for the hat to keep you warm no matter how stupid you look. Day's are short. Brrrrrrrrrr. It's a bit chilly.

Kill some snowmen I say.



Bah humbug.

Party season

Friday evening was interesting. First I went to a retirement do for David Green, retiring Chief Executive of Cripplegate St Lukes. Lots of people there, including my old boss from LVSC days, and various others I was pleased to see, and one or two less pleased. Also a noticeable absence of some strategic Islington people who I expected to see there. Mind you I left at six so they could have come later. But good luck to David who is one of the most laid back people I've ever met. Nice to see his leaving present was several cases of wine.

The reason I left early was to join K at her work's Xmas party. An interesting experience: by the time I arrived they has all been drinking for over 4 hours - I'd had a glass and a half of wine. I don't think it would be wise for me to post the photos and film of K singing "American Pie" with her colleagues around the karaoke machine (I DO want to say married after all!). K said earlier that NOTHING would get her doing karaoke, and was quite sure she would not. There must be some interesting formula for different people and exhibitionism: how many glasses of wine does it take YOU to stand up and make an idiot of yourself? K's level proved to be quite high (not a cheap date), and seems to be roughly the equivalent of how much do you have to drink to be chucking up later on? My own level's probably a bit lower, but I'm also a bit shyer in front of people I don't know. Under those circumstances I believe the graph would have shown that I would have reached the 'unconscious' phase before the 'get up and sing' phase. Fortunately I started later, and therefore never quite managed to catch up.

I'll have to try harder.

Christmas Tree

Here's our Christmas Tree: finally decorated after lengthy disputes between K and J. Mainly from J I should say.

I have also been sending Christmas cards (yes, yes, yours is in the post...) so I guess Christmas is really coming. I probably should think about buying presents now, I suppose.

Personally I can't wait for it all to be over. I'm a new year sort of person really, rather than a Christmas one: but I suppose a Christmas rest would be nice.

Unfortunately working for myself I've realised that the chances of a Christmas bonus are somewhat reduced.

That Old Kav Magic

According to the BBC (actually I think they nicked it from the Sun): "Graham Kavanagh says Sunderland's poor start to life in the Championship may have been down to their Abba soundtrack in the dressing-room." They don't say what music Kav would have preferred, but it's a surprise to me that Keano would choose Abba in the dressing room. I had him down as a more heavy metal type, making the team march out to "The Ace of Spades". Kav I reckon is more your Sinatra type and is dying for Ray to win X-factor (I know, but I've got a 9 year old at home). But then again I am probably wrong about all of this: they are all probably huge fans of Take That. Owzabout that then guys and gals.

Dead Dictators and Birthdays

Pinochet's dead. What was horrifying about this news was that he wasn't dead already. Surely somebody could have 'offed' him ages ago. That's the trouble with this world: nice people are too nice. If you see what I mean. It terrifies me that I'm going to find out that even more scumbags I thought were dead aren't yet.

One personal Pinochet aside is that the date of the coup in Chile was September 11th. Now more famous for other things, but always more famous for me as my mother's birthday.

It was also my birthday the other day, December 7th, generally better known (in the US anyway) as Pearl Harbour Day. When I was studying American History for A level just a few years ago (Oh alright a loooooong time ago) I announced Pearl Harbour Day was my birthday. Which was interesting. The next date we came across turned out to be someone else in the class's birthday. And the next, and the next, and then someone's mother's birthday, and then someone's sister's birthday etc. etc. I suppose the truth is if you get a big enough group ( I guess there were about 20 of us) it's statistically likely that this will happen. But I'm not sure, I only got an E for my Stats A level. Depressingly I told someone recently (younger than me) that I was born on Pearl Harbour Day and they thought I meant the actual day - making me 17 years older than I am.

You do the math.

Laid Back

A quiet weekend. Relaxing after a pretty hard week. Saw friends today - Jem and Mimi, which was nice. Yesterday laid around, did some shopping, listened to the awfulness that was Cardiff v Colchester, had a meal and went to the pub. We needed a rest. I could use one that lasts about 5 years. I think what I really need is a million pounds. K keeps promising me she will win the lottery but has so far no kept her word. Some fool asked me why I didn't buy a lottery ticket. How ridiculous, that's not my job: my job is to sit back and moan about K not winning, obviously.

Meanwhile, Cardiff City's job seems to be not to score any goals. You know what I mean, that thing on the left here; the gap between the posts. Unfortunately, Chopra seems to have forgotten that's his job, and continually puts the ball to the left, right or over the top of the thing. BETWEEN THE POSTS BOYS, OK?

And the day before yesterday was Tuesday

What an exhausting week. Running a training course where not enough people turn up (despite the fact their organisations have paid) making the course barely viable. A two day course, no less, which ends up with just two participants: it becomes, almost, a personal surgery - but I guess that's ok: just harder work. It's too hard to tell two people to "break up into groups". But it went reasonably well, despite all that, with the both giving positive feedback: but thank god that's over.

Tonight went to M's last EVER parents evening: for 13 years I have listened to teachers telling me how clever, nice, kind and hard working my son is (with only one exception - she was a fool). I know. I know. He's now got an interview at Oxford in a couple of weeks: of course I'm proud of him, the clever bugger.

Meanwhile, City have been playing crap and lost to stoke and are no longer top of the league. So that's all over, and from now on the battle against relegation begins. Interestingly, our bad form seems to have coincided with the introduction of the 'winter ball'. Chopra seems unable to kick it into the back of the net, while Mcpahil seems to prefer hitting players: sent off again and banned for three matches - three matches we will, in all likelihood, lose, and will end up floating mid-table by the new year.

Cheerful bugger, aren't I?

Today's Sunday, yesterday was Wednesday

So went up to Sheffield yesterday with the 1927 club. Journey ok, pub good, (nice beer, nice food, nice cat) and the football was ok apart from the complete inability of any City player to put the ball in the back of the net, despie a number of good chances. The ref was rubbish: Phil Dowd reffing us as a punishment for his crap reffing of Spurs and Blackburn last week, and I am pleased to say that my cohorts did not fail to let him know about his failure to understand the rules of the game. He obviously listened, because he was better in the second half: nobody got booked for kicking the ball, or anything.

Alan Wright though is incredibly small. And with his lack of hair he is very reminiscent of the little bald bloke Benny Hill used to pat on the head. Alexander gave him a tentative pat at one point after he cleared the ball well. You could almost hear the music starting up. It would be no surprise if they had to get him a special junior kit, and I hae been told his boots are only size 4. Standing next to Purse he looked like a mascot. The picture here shows him in his Villa heyday next to Gus Poyet. It gives you some idea of the proportions. To be fair, he played ok. For a short arse.

Still top of the league, but we should have won by at least one.

Afro Bombers Second Explosion

MMMM. Nice.

It must make sense to someone somewhere. This is from the website afrobomber.net. It's Japanese and means nothing to me. A computerised translation of some stuff on the front page doesn't help much:

" The people who idle in the online game PSO series... being to be, it does, but now funny so finding ネトゲ which is, they are the people who rage moderately and turn."

Now it's all clear. Nice Afro.

Short ugly old left back

So the last chance to sign someone on loan passes with us signing Alan Wright on loan from Sheffield United. He used to be ok when he played for Villa, but that was a few years ago. He's 35 now, and has certainly stopped growing: at 5 foot 5" he is, I am unreliably informed, the smallest player in the league. Well, he might be ok. We'll see.

The sad thing about the photo is that I got it from uglyfootballers.co.uk. So there you have it: short of players, so we borrow a short ugly old left back from Sheffield United. It's a wonder I'm not over-excited, isn't it.

By the way, I gather a cricket match has started in Australia that some people seem to care about it. Bizarrely K was listening to it on the radio in the night when she couldn't sleep. Kept me awake for HOURS, even though I was snoring, I am told.

Nothing much

It's been a funny first half of week. At the weekend both kids were in Belgium which is kind of strange, as they were there for different reasons. J was with her dad, M went with his school to see the 1st world war battlefields. Of course he managed to drink some belgian beer and brought back some welcomely received Belgian chocolate. Monday K & J were both ill: headaches, throwing up and all the fun that goes with that. J was back to school yesterday (kids bounce back so fast) but K's been off all week so far. Kind of strange for me, while I'm working at home. But at least I have been working - various bits and pieces: preparing for training I'm running next week, helping someone with a grievance and writing bids for work that starts in January. It would be good to get it, financially, but you can't rely on things like this, so also preparing other bids, and organising for other work I have coming up. Also putting new bits on the toosh website about the kind of things toosh can do. More interesting I think, and more likely to get the punters in: I need to do more marketting but am wary of emailing potential clients too often: I may circulate leaflets in the new year.

As for Cardiff City, will they bounce back from last Friday's dreadful QPR game? I'm going up to Sheffield to get dru... sorry, I mean to find out. I do hope we get one or two more players in soon: our squad is looking paper thin. Again, last week's game showed that we need everyone playing, everyone on form. Let's hope we get there against the owls. Good nickname. J thought I was making up their real name "Sheffield Wednesday? WEDNESDAY??!! You mean United, don't be silly". A 9 year old expert: WTFDIK? Hey, this post needs a picture. Ah, that'll do. (Don't ask why).

Oops! Cardiff slip up against QPR

Well, last night's defeat to the hoops was a piss off. K and I went to the Quays in Holloway Road to watch, and they put it on for us on a big screen in the corner: there are different screens all over the pub. The other screens were either showing Gaelic Football or Irish musicians. Meanwhile behind us a couple of couples were rowing rather rowdily. Not enough for me to take my eyes off the football, you understand, but rowdily all the same. As for the game lots of people have been slagging off Ledley: Interestng. I don't think Ledley's been much cop for a while: I actually thought he was better last night than in other games I've seen, Scimeca's passing seemed to have gone astray, Parry was anonymous, and our front two looked the worst I've seen them. Thompson was no surprise given he was returning from an injury, but Chopra's performance was by a long stretch the worst I've seen him play. Gunter's performance for a 17 year old's first game was very good (he'll improve), McNaughton looked good in the 2nd half (apart from the goal). Still, we were the better side by a mile in the second half and were unlucky to lose to a breakway goal a couple of minutes from the end.

Apart from the rowing we were entertained by a simultaneous disco for the last 20 minutes of the game. We watched the game while the DJ played "Going back to Africa" by Toto for a couple of South Africans, and the drummer of the band on later drummed along badly to the song. We were glad we weren't going to stay for the band. I've got more rhythm than that drummer.

We need to be better to have any chance of staying up near the top, though. Luckily Birmingham failed to beat Wolves and Preston only won 1-0 at Leicester so we're still top on goal difference. We miss Gilbert, I should add, for his battling qualities and forward movement.

We didn't stay at the Quays. It's a big modern friendly Irish pub with a widely varied clientele. Apart from the rowing young couples, we saw older couples dressed up to eat, a couple of asian ladies drinking tea, old Irish men at the bar supping on pints of Guinness, a woman on her own drinking a cup of coffee, various other young people come for the band... It's an amazing job to pull that many and so varied a group of people in, and I guess it helps that the bar staff are so friendly. Shame they couldn't organise the right result.

Pictures

I have started putting my pictures (as opposed to photos) on ArtWanted. Take a look. (click here) It's kind of a weird website in that it has its own community. As soon as you upload a picture you get comments from other artists: this is because there are people who take this terribly, terribly seriously: if they comment on your work you are likely to comment on theirs - the more comments you get the higher rating you get, the more likely you are to appear on the front of the website, the more people see your work, the more people comment on your work etc. The problem is I haven't liked many other people's work. Therefore although I've received some nice comments from some people, I absolutely loathed some of the art those people put up on the site, and I'm far too polite to say: "thanks for the nice comment, but your paintings are shite". The cynic in me says they probably hate my work anyway, but don't care if it gets them comments. Hmmm. maybe I should go and congratulate someone on their shit.

Hollandish

The telly was on yesterday evening and I caught some of the England - Netherlands bore - sorry, I mean match. Marley and I were drawn to discuss the issue of why the Netherlands is sometimes Holland and the people are Dutch. It makes absolutely no sense. They must all get very confused about their nationality:

"Your team are playing"
"Who, Holland?"
"No. Netherlands"
"Nevermind, I'm Dutch"

I don't get it. I'm sure someone can bore me with a rational explanation, but clearly it's all a load of bollocks and they should all just sit down and decide once and for all what they want to be called. I have a few suggestions if they wants some ideas. Cloggies from Clogland, for example.

That was the week that was

A very hectic last week which is why no postings for a while. And a complaint that this blog is too much about Cardiff City. As if that were possible. The thing about personal blogs is that unless you are an 18 year old depressed girl in your student bedroom you realise quite quickly that it's not always too wise to reveal too much publicly, Therefore very little about my personal life, and lots about Cardiff City. And a bit about Fred Pratt. Anyway at the end of last week, after a couple of very time consuming, expensive and irritating days doing things I don't want to talk about on here, on Thursday we went back to Ganges (which was nice), flying to Montpelier. The journey was blighted by incompetence at Stansted, but all fine once we were on our way. The weather as we arrived was such a contrast to here: 21 degrees and bright sunshine. The drive from Montpelier is easy and quick and beautiful. Views of the Cevennes and Pic St Loup as you whiz down good but quiet roads. A lovely welcome in Ganges where straight away we meet people we've met before. (Getting hooted at in the street in the process as we blocked traffic to say hello - gosh I felt French driving so inconsiderately).

Friday we went down to the river beach at Laroque, said hello a couple of times to the house, said hello to our bank, and generally had a nice time.

Saturday was Armistice day and a public holiday in France. From the comfort of our seats in the bar (outside, plenty warm enough) we watched the mini parade from the church to the town hall (About a two minute walk normally, but the slow march done by the local dignatories stretched it to nearly three). Where the mayor and some other dignitaries hung around a while doing I don't know what. A big man with a yellow jacket arrived carrying a banner. And that was it. "Vive la France" shouted one parent from the playground by the Bar de la Poste. It was clear he was being ironic.

There was much fuss on the news about shops opening on a public holiday. We went up to La Vigan where there was a lively market. We bought some pretty stones, and I bought my dad a beret. I can say this even though it will be a surprise for him on Thursday when I see him, as he never looks at the internet. It's not that he thinks it's evil or anything (like Kinky Friedman asserts despite having his own website) it's more that he's never advanced beyond the typewriter - and mum doing his typing.

Later that night we watched a lovely sunset. Still warm enough to be sitting outside at the bar.

Sunday we headed home. This time via Nimes. Again a relatively easy, if slightly longer (an hour or so) drive to the airport, through pretty countryside (not as pretty as theMontpelierr journey) and no problem with car hire (and no extra charge) picking up at Montpelier and dropping off at Nimes. The only problem was the croque monsieur I ate at the airport which put me out of action for about 24 hours once we got home. There we go, no one really wants to read a blog about my bowel movements do they?

The good news on the way back was the victory over (spit) Burnley. Still top of the league, and McPhail not suspended. No more right back though with Chambers back to Watford and Gilbert out for a while injured. And no Alan Smith who Jones tried to sign on loan- I'm kind of glad he didn't want to come to City: I have strong memories of his last visit to Ninian Park, getting sent off for 'assaulting' Andy Legg. (Inverted commas inserted on advice from counsel).

One final point: Ganges rhymes with Manges. "Je mange a Ganges". Plenty.

Bring your boots (someone's filling theirs)

Great article in the Guardian today by David Conn regarding Hammam and money. His money, City's money, and various other people's money. Ridsdale is clearly playing with other people's money. Of course he's done this before and landed Leeds with £95m worth of debt. I can't pretend to understand all the financing stuff that's going on, but it doesn't look like there's going to be much money around in January to strengthen the squad.

Which we need to do. McPhail suspended. Loovens injured, Thomson injured and out for a month, Gilbert now out for 6 weeks. And Chambers goes back to Watford after Saturday's important home tie against (spit) Burnley. It's getting to the point where the old joke about if you bring your boots to Ninian Park you might get a game might come true. Although of course nothing seems to want to make Jones pick Ferretti. I have heard that this is because he doesn't like players who "Scream when they are tackled". Better than someone who says: "never mind then mate, off you go" I would have thought.

Jones beats the curse again

Once again, despite City being top of the league, Dave Jones has not won the 'manager of the month' award, it being awarded instead to Burnley (excuse me) manager Steve Cotterill. "I am obviously delighted, it's the first time I've won it at Burnley," said Cotterill, whose side won four and drew two games in October. "I felt we had a tough month and, coupled with injuries, that's probably made it a bigger achievement. That is all credit to my players."

"Piss off you smug bastard" Jones was allegedly heard to reply. "It's not whisky, so who wants it anyway". Jones then wondered off down the pub singing "WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE, WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE" and narrowly avoided being arrested. "We thought he was the soul crew" said Inspector Moron of the South Wales Police.

My pictures

I have uploaded lots of pictures to the ArtWanted website. This is one example. It's a drawing I did a Loooooong time ago of a friend I shared a house with called Mark. I haven't seen him for years. He was a major U2 fan before anyone else was.

If you want to see more please click on the link here:

ArtWanted

Pardon my French

Today I have been learning how to put accents and stuff on my writing. It turns out that it is very simple to change my UK keyboard into a French keyboard - except of course the letters are all printed in UK stylee on the keyboard, so I have to get a visual 'keyboard' on screen. Which given my arduous typing is pretty hard: I normally look at keyboard and screen, now I will have to look at keyboard, screen and keyboard on screen. But anyway, let me practice:

Bonjour, je m'appelle Gary. C'est très difficile de utiliser le clavier français; parce que lettres certains est dans positions différante sur le clavier: par exemple, le m est où la ; devrait être et le q et où la a devrqit être etcetera et c'est très difficile de trouver les signes de ponctuation.

Enough of that. I had to change the keyboard back to English to find a full stop. Maybe that's why French sentences seem so long. It's especially the a and the q that do my head in. The m isn't much better.

Anyway, here's a nice I took picture of the Tate modern (even if I say so myself), which I think I mentioned we went to yesterday. They are having this amazing exhibition of fun slides at the moment. But is it art? probably not, but looks fun. J was very disappointed that the queues were too long for her to have a go. A picture on the left of the slides. Wheeeeeeeeeee!

Warbrobe parked by Wardrobe Terrace

Warbrobe parked by Wardrobe Terrace
Originally uploaded by Gary Socrates.

We all went for a walk today by the City, St Pauls and across the wobbly bridge to the Tate Modern, then up the Thames towards London Bridge. It was a lovely sunny day and I took some pictures. Including this one. It is of a van amongst a whole row of vans which were part of a big film crew. This is the wardrobe department, parked just by Wardrobe Terrace. I wonder if they did it on purpose?

We went for lunch at a pub by Southwark Bridge just next to the Golden Hind, and Ipswich v Luton was on the telly. Alan Lee scored a hat trick. Hard to believe. But of course I always liked the song: "Alan Lee, Lee, Lee , won't you score a goal for me, me, me, Alan Lee, Lee, Lee , won't you score a goal for me. With your left, with your right, with head or with your knee, Alan Lee, Lee, Lee , won't you score a goal for me." Never did. But he has now scored loads for Ipswich. Oh well.

I wonder if Magilton's managed to get hm off the (alleged) booze and fags?

Money in the City

I'm sure - well in fact I know - I'm not the only one who has been thinking about the Ridsdale deal to take over City. The more I think about it the simpler it becomes and the less it makes sense: So put simply - some City people will put up money now (approx £25-30m) and then in a couple of years will float the club on the stock exchange (or whatever) on the basis they will get a lot more.

Simple, see, except it's hard to believe that this is a worthwhile risk: the development of the stadium, promotion to the premiership etc. Football clubs don't make money. Also, who will own the stadium? City don't own their stadium now...

There's something extremely worrying going on. None of this believeable, none of this stands up to examination.

So back to the mascot discussion. I think this one is worth looking at
:

No I don't know what it is either.

Mascots

One of the exciting things Mr Ridsdale is promising City fans is a new club mascot. So here are some for you to think about:




Aee also this: sports-mascot.com

MR RIIIIDSDAAAALE!!!!!

Meanwhile back at Ninian Park the takeover continues. Sam Hammam is quietly being written out of history (Sam who?), and Peter Ridsdale (surely it was him Norman Wisdom was always shouting for: "Mr Ridsdale? MR RIDSDALE?") carries on the takeover and reinventing history. Of course all City fans want to be in the Premiership visiting Old Trafford, Stamford Bridge and the Emirates Stadia, and of course we wouldn't mind a new stadium ourselves - but why must we always be run by a dodgy second hand car salesmen with a permatan that no one trusts - and I mean no one. Why does the club's fate have to be linked to dubious business deals in the city? And come to think of it I don't mind Ninian Park, actually. And really it was quite a lot of fun away at Cheltenham Town and Gillingham and Oxford United with about 100 supporters, now I come to think about it.

Screw this, whatever happens us City fans will still be there singing.

"We've been to Halifax, we've been to Hartlepool, we've been to Crewe, we've been to Burnley too (spit), we've been to Gillingham, we've been to Wrexham, and all because, Cardiff we love you".

And if we go up to the premiership we'll still sing it. Except they'll be a load of new people around who won't have ever been anywhere near any of those grounds, so we can sing "Where were you when we were shit?" at them. Which will be fun too. I suppose. And I guess if City do go up and we're in France I'll be able to see a lot of games on Sky.

Confused? Me too. But then again I don't feel well.....

In sickness and in health

Being ill is boring. Both K and I have not been feeling great the last few days. me after my gastroscopy - I think they left something inside - and K's picked up a cold - which I seem to have got a bit now. It's so boring. Mind you this hasn't stopped either of us working, nor going to the football on Saturday, or to the pub on Tuesday.

Take painkillers and carry on! That's our motto.

Great, this must be the most self-indulgent moany blog post: as if all blogs weren't self indulgent.

What's that coming over the hill?

Not Luigi Glombard, who on Saturday was horribly reminiscent of Andy Campbell. I don't get it. This is his big chance. Chopra out for one game, so Glombard has a chance. What has he got to lose? Not a thing - if he tries. What does he do? He hides. A cross coming his way.. where's Glombard? Hiding behind a defender. His reputation is that he is fast. But it would be hard to tell from that performance - he hardly ran, and when he did, he started his run far too late. And as reported accurately by Will Buckley in the Observer, he made the best through pass of the game - for Norwich, to Earnie: who should have really scored. I think he felt sorry for Neal Alexander. Glombard got taken off at half time, which was the right thing to do. But that is probably his career at Cardiff over: finished before it started.

Of course withy all the exciting news and the piles of money heading into Ninian Park (see Green Eggs and Hammam below) we'll have half a dozen new strikers by the end of January, and Glombard will be back in the French second division. I look forward to watching him next year at Montpelier.

I do not like Green Eggs and Hammam

No I do not like them Sam I am.

So what on earth is going on down at Ninian Park? Hammam out, Ridsdale in. Complicated deals with share options, hedge funds and god knows what else. Rumours are there's a 'consortium'. Rumours are is that its just some investment bankers (cockney rhyming slang, surely?) It's mandaric. It's Sullivan. It's the Chuckle Brothers. Debts will disappear like magic. The stadium will bebuilt City will have funds to buy players in the transfer window. The promised land will come to Cardiff. To me, to you. The River Taff will turn into wine. Why does anyone expect any of us to believe anything?


Supporting Cardiff City is never straightforward - even on the pitch. (Saturday at Norwich a case in point - but that's another story). It gets even less straightforward behind the scenes than out on the pitch. The reality is we've swapped one owner (who sold his last club's ground to god knows who, and the club to some idiot Norwegians) for another - who pushed his club into near bankruptcy. We've swapped Sam "I am" Hammam for Peter "Green Eggs" Ridsdale. I do not like them on a train, I do not like them in the rain. I do not like them with a goat, I do not like them on a boat... I DO NOT LIKE THEM SAM I AM.

Tuesday was three days ago...

Yes I had the less than exciting gastrocopy. Which revealed a hiatus hernia, which I guess explains a few things. As you can see from the diagram this is a fun procedure. "A procedure?" shouted the woman in the next bed. "I'm having a procedure? I thought it was just tests!" Unfortunately it means I have to have some more tests, more drugs, etc. The sedatives were pretty cool though. I remember nothing about a camera going down my throat, which is as it should be. Actually I remember very little about Wednesday at all.

Yesterday felt a bit knocked out still, so took it easy most of the day until the evening when we went to see Marley in his school play - Pride and Prejudice. He was really very good, playing Mr Bingley. Some of the other kids were good too, but Mr Darcy stood out. In the way a an oak tree might stand out on stage, except without the emotional range. Jeeeesus he was bad. The whole audience cracked up when he came out with the line "This is too much" with less emotion than a dalek. Poor boy - got the part based on looks alone. But otherwise the play was great. And I didn't boo Mr Darcy once!


This morning the doorbell rang early. Who is it? I asked, bearing in mind the knock on the door we'd had from the old bill a few days a go telling us that burglars had struck in our street at 7am. But it wasn't a friendly burglar knocking, but a delivery: a mitre football. I have no idea why. Did I enter some competition I can't remember? Why am I being sent a football? Weird. Whatever, a great long ball: superb delivery, but a bit telegraphed.




Tomorrow we are going to watch "top of the league" Cardiff City play at Norwich. Unfortunately "What's that coming over the hill?" - Michael Chopra is suspended, so we may be seeing the great Luigi Glombard. Shame we can't borrow that Earnie bloke Norwich have got. Notice the irony of the shirt colours.

My Tuesday Blog

So what did I end up doing on this exiting Tuesday?

Got up at 7.20pm, five minutes after the alarm went off. Went downstairs to kitchen, Emptied dishwasher. Made Coffee. Made toast, Got bread out of freezer for J's lunch. Ate breakfast - toast, banana, coffee and various bits of medication (Oh you want to know? Ozemaprole, Metformin, Lisinopril and Aspirin). Went to loo. Said goodbye to K and j as they left house. Did some work - mainly finishing off stuff for afternoon meeting that I can't write about given there could be future legal repercussions. Went to meeting - long drive to Willesden where meeting was. Meeting happened. Went well (Can't say more). Started to drive back home worried i wouldn't get home in time to leave to go to my picture framing class at the Mary Ward Centre. At Kentish Town had the brilliant idea of driving to K's work at Euston and leaving car with her. Phoned K, she agreed - happy she didn't have to take bus home. Time to spare popped into paperchase at Euston. Bought a sketchbook. Did some drawings of cats. Walked up road to Queens Square to class. Class was good, even though I realised I'd left print at home I'm working on. Instead mounted small picture of cat for mounting in small test frame. Sanded the frame for preparation. Learned about staining - tried a few out and then decided i preferred natural wood. Took the bus home. Spoke to Marley, who's rehearsing hard for his school play tomorrow night (Pride and Prejudice), and listened to my ipod the rest of the 91 bus journey. Most enjoyed: "holiday" by Green Day. Fitted my mood. Got home at 8.45pm in time to say goodnight to J and eat a tin of beans. And take some more metformin. Then turned on my Mac to listen to the second half: City v Southampton. Thompson scores winner 5 minutes from end...Bloooobirds, We are top of the league, say we are top of the league etc. Then deal with emails. And remember I should do this blog.

Tomorrow won't be so much fun. Tomorrow morning at 8.30am am going to the Whittington for a gastroscopy. Whoopee.

A Walk on the Heath

Heath Pond
Originally uploaded by Gary Socrates.

K and I went for a nice walk today on the heath. It was a lovely mild, sunny autumn day. We started at Southend green and meandered up to Kenwood. We stopped by the pond at Kenwood and watched people feeding the ducks and swans. Then we saw a rat. K was convinced it was not in fact a rat, but a water vole. It looked like a rat to me, but K stuck to her guns and explained it was a not rat but a water vole to a couple with their young son, who were impressed with K's knowledge of wildlife. We wondered then up to Kenwood house, and had a cup of tea in the cafe, and a look at the new shop there which sells interesting stuffed toy animals and things. Including books. Including a guide to the wildlife of Britain, with photos. Including a very clear photo of the 'water vole' - or rather, the common rat - Rattus Norvegicus (as Stranglers fans will remember). We walked back home across the heath, imagining the happy couple we met describing how they'd seen a water vole at Kenwood.

Anyway, here's a photo. And more on my flickr site, including a picture of the 'vole'.