Football, dodgy politicians and poets In pain again all day, making work difficult. Went to have my back massaged, which was agony but then completely removed the pain. For half an hour. Frustrating to be so close to finishing Skelton Yawngrave but unable to type for more than ten minutes at a stretch. In the evening Anton came around and we scored a Chinese takeaway from a restaurant next to the usual takeaway, which was a revelation. Then we watched the European cup final. Anton's beloved Manchester United put in a surprisingly abject performance against Barcelona, who Chelsea went out to in the last round thanks to a corrupt referee. Anton looking tormented and fidgeting about the place, and unable to watch half of it. I of course was able to view it with a dispassionate eye, while Calliope quietly supported the Catalan side. After, and NOT talking about football, Anton and I went to the Battle of Trafalgar for a consoling pint of Harveys, and a change of scene before he shuffle...
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A slip of fate A good day, fairly low key. Started with some work on my skeleton story for a few hours, and then had a swim in the afternoon. This I followed by a spot of clothes shopping. I had been putting this off till I stop being so porcine. But this is proving a long wait, so I have bought some fat clothes thinking if you are fat you may as well be smart and fat. Evening entirely taken up with watching the Champions League Cup Final between Manchester Utd and Chelsea with Anton. Anton is a Utd fan and so one of us was destined to be gloomy. We got some takeaway Chinese food and sat on the sofa and watched an epic confrontation which went to a penalty shoot out. Unbelievably the excellent Chelsea captain John Terry only had to score his penalty and Chelsea would win. Due to the downpour in Moscow he slipped on the drenched pitch just as he took it, which caused him to miss the goal by a whisker. United went on to win by the narrowest possible margin. Thus a piece of wet mud can ma...