It's all gone quiet over there

My new routine means I do not get any time to do "normal" things like blogging.  For my regular readers (and you are out there somewhere), you will know I am no longer working in London, but instead near Epsom.  This means I am back to driving to work, four days a week for the first few weeks.  The commute is around 1.5 hours each way, so a fair old drive, but I am catching up on all my podcasts, and have just finished a great story CD, so I am happy.  This routine is fairly short-term I think since firstly, as I get to understand my new customer, I won't have to be at their offices as much, and secondly because within the next 4-6 months, the account will be moving to a Starfleet office much nearer to my home.  Once that move happens, I will be in clover.

Now I am rather pleased with this next bit, since it also ties in to title, sort of.  I want to mention the fine establishment of Portsmouth Football club, since we have had the title song sung at us a few times, along with a few other choice medleys.  Over the last 4 years, we have experienced the highs (FA Cup Winners), and the lows.  The lowest of the lows was only twelve days ago when the administrator, in what is now interpreted as a game of chicken, or sh!t or bust as we call it down South, announced that the club was twenty four hours from going bust.  This piece of brinkmanship was done, so us commentators believe, to force one of our old owners to sign up to "the plan".  Within a day the said owner had indeed signalled his intention to sign said "plan", and the club is saved.  

Combine that good news with what we are achieving on the pitch, something that got a bit lost in the smoke for a while, then you have the best good news story a football fan could wish for.  We simply cannot stop winning, and our squad, thin as it is, does seem to be really doing something special in the teamwork and togetherness department.  

Now this may sound daft, but for me, I would like it to stay like this for a while.  By that I mean I wish we could stay in the Championship for a couple more years, get stable, enjoy some success, and then look to get back in to the Premiership.  However, money and ambition are kings, which means there is already talk of us getting in to the play-offs this year.  I almost cannot bear the thought of going for promotion, again.  This means us getting a larger squad, which means paying top dollar for better players so the squad is strengthened as well as enlarged, which means the wages will go up, which makes the stakes higher, then we get promoted, have to buy half a squad of Premiership players, wages go up, the stakes get even higher, we still only have a nineteen thousand capacity stadium, so our gate revenue remains that of a low Championship/high Div 1 club.  Then, sometime in the future, when we are on our second or third owner, and the money is drying up, we get caught up in the same kind of mess from which we have just got clear.  Now I am in the acceptance camp when it comes to the many cycles of life, but really, do I want to go through this again?

Bless you all

Bless all of you who continued to check my blog even though I have written absolutely nothing for two weeks.  I am pretty sure I know who one of you is, but not the other*.  

I have just had the thought that I could write a really short blog, but with dozens of footnotes, so that the main blog is very short and the whole story is told in the footnotes.  Having given it some thought, I realise that is a dumb idea**.

I did have a fantastic two weeks in France.  We ate croissants and French bread, which is the law, and drank red and white wine, ditto, and swam in the swimming pool at least three times each day*****, which while not law, is pretty damn sensible.  We have a suplus of inflatables, the best of which was a lilo for two with drinks holder one side and space for an ice bucket the other side, something like this.  Inflatables have become a bit of a holiday tradition, with the double bed joined by a single chair, a crocodile, a stingray, two rings and a dingy, plus a plane with the rings ripped off (long story******).  The latter is used only for the bucking bronco game, where you have to jump on it, legs astride the fuselage, and stay on for more than 10 seconds, which depending on how blown up it is can range from fairly easy to impossible.

Other than that, we visited markets, went to the beach, boogie-boarded whenever possible, and generally did not much very slowly.  

To say that coming back is a bit of a shock is like saying that Portsmouth FC are pretty bad at the moment.  I just hope that my work colleagues will take it easy on me, which is unlikely since my departure for two weeks is the reason they are in the mess they are in right now, having to pick up all my work etc.

So, onwards and upwards, as they say, and here's to the rest of the summer, and all that life will bring to our happy family.  

Love to you all (even Golfy) and hope to catch up soon.

-----------------------------------------

* That last comment would have been funnier if it had not been true**.

** Well thank goodness for that, I was about to ask for my money back, and as the old saying goes, please don't ask for a refund as a refusal (or punch on the nose, depending on the establishment) often offends.  No offence meant***.

*** I am now nesting my footnotes, which any editor worth their salt knows is not a good thing.  However, in this case, I feel it warrants the comment that, as a rule, anyone who starts a sentence with "not being funny or anything", or "no offence meant but..." or "with the greatest respect" needs to be shot first, and have questions asked afterwards****.  And also as a rule mean anything but what they actually say.  i.e. "No offence meant, but you are a right tw@t" - that kind of thing.

**** Just on a point of order, you can begin to see why the cowboys became extinct if that was their policy.

***** The ladies did tend to attend the afternoon session only.

****** Not that long, they just got bust the holiday before last.

PUP PPU

I am not a true fan.

How can I even show my face round here.

How could I have forgotten the most important thing that happened this weekend.


POMPEY ARE
IN THE
FA CUP FINAL

Obviously I do need to apologise firstly to any Spurs supporters. Sorry for giving you our manager, our deputy manager, half a backroom and most of our good players, just as they turned not so good (I know, that bit is a lie). Mostly, I am sorry for the pitch cutting up only where your players were standing or, in the case of Dawson, sitting.

Anyhow, enough of the fun banter (eh? Ed), what a fantastic thing for every Pompey supporter, and every neutral, and even a couple of the Spurs fans.

We face some other London club in the final. Talk is they were the same shirts as our boys, and they are a bit handy, although they are also a bit over-paid. Well, whatever happens, win or lose, BRING IT ON

My only fear is what we now do for the remaining 6 league games. There are some dodgy rules about playing the second team, but we really must ensure our best players stay fit, get match practice, but stay uninjured. We cannot afford even one more injury to our threadbare squad. Maybe we should give them all 1950s football boots, with all the strength, padding and protection needed to keep our lads' feet safe. So what if they look like a deep sea diver's boots. So what if they slow people down. WE ARE IN THE FINAL.

Play up Pompey, Pompey Play Up