The Man In The Oversized Shoes

I'm on the pub run, so regrettably I have to take the car in today. The upside is a bit more time in bed, time to indulge.

It's cold, so it would have been a refreshing bike ride. It's so cold in fact that I have to scrape the ice off the car windscreen. The traffic is awful; it's a total pain being in the car. It doesn't actually take that long; I just think I'm becoming more intolerant of it.

Last night's result costs Steve McClaren his job as England manager. No one seems to be giving him any credit for his superb tactics that restricted Croatia to three goals. Billy Davies would understand.

As none of the home nations have qualified there are calls to bring back the Home International Championship, now that would be worth seeing, much better than the European Championships but doubt it'll happen because it makes too much sense.

Cottage pie for lunch, the pub seems to have a bit of a Foxfield thing going on, loads of their beers. The 4% bitter that I have is quite good.

When I get home it's raining, not much but enough for Doggo to refuse to play ball in the garden. I would take him for a walk if he looked keen but he doesn't.

My opponent turns up for squash with two new racquets, a new sports bag, and new shoes. Five years spending in one go; bet he felt faint after that. Turns out his shoes are a bad idea, too big. He makes a right din as he clatters around the court in his oversized shoes. Unfortunately it doesn't hamper his performance as he opens up a 4-0 lead. I pull it back to 4-2 and it would have finished 4-3 had I not upset him by calling one of his shots 'down' before he hit it. This annoys him so much, he pulls back the deficit and wins the final game. Big tactical mistake!

He's on the beer tonight as well, so we have two. Howling Ale from Cottage's Whippet range 4.5%, almost dark.

Get home and L is creased, barely awake. She goes to bed while I have the pasta she has left for me.