Just before I went “in absentia” or if you like “in feriae”, as Julius Caesar might have put it although he, unlike myself was in “Gaul” for business not a holiday, I read under the Stoke report that Nick’s rededication to the cause and intent to purify his football soul was partly inspired by my words. This led me to wonder whether or not is was time to become a full time guru bringing healing and succour to those crushed by the remorseless grind of the twin mill stones of overblown sports punditry and the “will to whinge” exhibited by the average sports fan these days.
I would, if you like, become a sympathetic miller, helpfully bagging the pure flour of your “Chelsea love” while gently brushing the broken husks of your spirit onto a compost heap of regeneration.
I must beg those wishing to stay at my Clapton Ashram for your indulgence, while I work on a competitive pricing structure, which it has to be said will be heavily influenced by whether or not I’m successful in attaining charitable status: vital if I’m to keep fees below six grand a week (or nine grand during the Olympics ‘cause that’s what I can get from the Faroe Islands’ canoeing team and officials).
But the good news is that I’m close to agreeing a deal for distribution rights to some very tidily priced DVDs of Camberwick Green, which feature he who is “The Miller” of all millers. It’s just a question of when I’m next in the local B&Q Car Park, where my distributor seems to spend an inordinate amount of his time.
In the meantime, we who are walking the road of spiritual purity will take as our text for the week the words of that well known non-sports fan Charlie Brooker from Monday’s Guardian:
Back in the 1930s, when men with handlebar moustaches played football in long johns and tails, and the ball was a spherical clod of bitumen, did fans weep in the stands when their team lost? No. They limited their responses to a muttered “blast” or a muted “hurrah” before going home to smoke a pipe and lean on the mantelpiece. People had “hobbies” and “interests” and no one claimed to have “a passion” for anything.
Given the shellackings that have been handed out by certain teams from the Greater Manchester area while I was away, we need to remain calm and approach the coming weeks with just such studiedly phlegmatic air even if we are far from confident of what lies ahead. It’s early days and the start of a season often throws up some decidedly curious results.
And speaking of the curious, having returned from the motorways of France, I threw the bags, the kids and the missus in the door and headed off down the information super highway only to be stopped dead in my tracks.
“Begob,” I said to myself, “what have they done to my local? It’s gone. Benfield was found in the cellar drinking the profits once too often, I suppose, and there’s been a takeover where they’ll have varnished floors, fizzy bottled lager, overpriced wine, loud music and dinners with jus instead of gravy. I mean the outside looks good although I thought that was Ken Bates up there on the sign for a moment but I dare not imagine what I’ll find in here.”
I needn’t have worried. Pushing open the door, my shoes adhered to the sticky, beer soaked carpet just as they always had and the familiar warm fug of easy companionship washed over me as I sat down and caught up on all the bloggidge I’d missed while in the “cloudless” depths of rural France for a couple of weeks.
The thread on Transfer Deadline Day was particularly entertaining and it was good to see a healthy scepticism coupled with wry detachment which augurs well for our combined mental health in the weeks to come.
(I do like the headline images accompanying the articles. How many of you realise the Humphrey Bogart and Jesus had the same birthday? A few years apart obviously.)
To some extent it’s been useful to have the dead air of an international week in which to catch up on all the news and to gird the loins for the coming challenges. Mooching around I enjoyed reading the interview Pat Nevin did in the Guardian Small Talk column; Giles Smith is always good value on the official site and I’ve been able to digest the recent happenings at my leisure.
Talking of Pat Nevin, Radcliffe and Maconie on BBC 6 Music related the possibly apocryphal story of how some years back the Sun, when running a profile of the wee man, reported his favourite band as Joy Davidson.
Joy indeed. Yes there was deep joy experienced by one member of the Bayou household when their junior membership pack was collected from the local sorting office, having arrived while we were away.
Yes, it’s good to go away but it can be rewarding to come back. Juan Mata will be hoping that holds true for him.
I know you’ll all join Peters and Lee in their legendary refrain and I’m touched by the warmth of your sentiments.
Sorry, I stopped at Camberwick Green. A photo of Windy Miller? On the Chelsea blog?
You Sir, have just won the Internet.
Welcome back BB.I trust Gaul served you well as it did me , and I believe the Good Lord Kaiser.
Yes, the loins are similarly girded here for the rough and tumble of the forthcoming season.
Camberwick Green always gets the plaudits in front of Trumpton and the lesser known but equally charming Chigley.
Aye, still loafing en Francais but home tomorrow… Chigley was a personal favourite – “Time flies by when I’m the driver of a train…”
Marvellous stuff, Dr. B – helps to ease me back into normal life again.
Alas, I return tomorrow too, Herr Kaiser!! Which way do you return? I shall be catching the 1630 from Ouistreham to good old Pompey! If you are on that ferry, then look for a 21 stone chappie about 6′ tall with what my missus calls a ‘porn moustache’ and I call my Saddam tache lol and very brown
Two wonderful weeks lazing just eating drinking and strolling along the beach with my loved one. Unusually, we came for two weeks this year (we normally do 2 one week excursions but as we missed Mays trip due to my major op) and I am so glad we did as the first week just went whooooooosh.
Poxy ferry timing means I shall miss the radio reports on tomorrows game. Why couldn’t they have changed the time or date to suit me just for once?
Austin – early flight in from Montpelier; home in time to catch a dodgy stream of the game! Very pleasant time en Francais though…
Sounds like we’re starting to tick along nicely now; everyone assuming it is a Mancs only race probably suits us – first true test for us and United next week then?
Yes more than happy to tick along under the radar without all the hype we had at the start of last season.
According to media, footballing pundits, and everyman and his dog, the title race is over, it’s between the Mancs so we can relax and lower our expectations. 😉
Lovely stuff, Dr B. Welcome back. Funnily enough the prevailing mood of resigned apprehension and disciplined tranquility has been rather undermined while you were away by some genuine signs of a future for us all to start getting excited about again. It may not be brilliantly rational to get excited about players on the basis of twenty minutes against a promoted team down to ten men, but nevertheless most of us couldn’t help getting a wee bit of our mojo back after the first glimpses of Mata and Lukaku.
In other words, we’re hopeless cases, and another eight months of near-psychotic mood swings await. Heigh ho.
Excellent BB as usual, I’m surprised the main CFC site haven’t tried to turn your head, and put in a transfer bid to Nick to get you writing on there. (If they do Nick, do a Levy) 😉
Oh, and I’m in the Camberwick Green camp as well.
AVB doesn’t take prisoners
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/football/article-2035280/Chelsea-boss-Andres-Villas-Boas-warns-Fernando-Torres.html
You got to love this blog looks on Android tablet
Got complacent at the end, but overall very interesting game. We are showing completely different style it is much more continental football.
I know next to nothing about how the game panned out. But it’s hugely frustrating to concede a late goal, for us as much as my fantasy football team!
Both Manchester sides looking ominous.
And Stoke’s not going to be any easy place to go. Just ask Kenny..,
The real story of the game was of course Mata
I’m telling you all now, I can’t cope with the idea that the Mancs really are genuinely good. Can someone please convince me that this is just some form of extended “blip”?
And on a quick side issue, having watched MOTD last night, is it my imagination, or are messrs Hansen and Shearer getting some sadistic pleasure in seeing Torres have a hard time?