It's coming home
Lorraine somewhat worn out this morning. Another scorcher. I felt curiously invigorated, and got up and bought bread and took Lorraine breakfast, and then got up again and cleaned the kitchen, mopped floors and hoovered. Then the rest of the day was given over to sloth and football.
Anton came around and we three ate salty snacks, drank some beer and watched England beat Sweden, to secure them a spot in the World Cup semi-finals, the first time since 1990. Weirdly, the English seemed to be having fun and expressing themselves, and had a comfortable 2-0 win. Gareth Southgate is an excellent manager. I really want Raheem Stirling to score a goal, because he went to my old school in Wembley, and his hesitancy in an England shirt in front of goal is so obviously a psychological glitch. He sends fear into the hearts of the opposing defence with dribbling and darting runs. One goal from him will unleash a torrent.
Enjoyed having Anton round, and we seemed to drink quite a lot of beer, but the occasion did warrant it. Another blooming scorcher today. The plants are crying out for water.
Anton went home, and I found the only logical thing to do was to watch the next match, which was Russia versus Croatia. Lorraine cooked some gorgeous chicken wrap things, and we settled down to see a titanic struggle, after a poor first half. The Croats going through on penalties. Croatia are England's next opponents in the semifinal. I think England can beat the Croats, and if they do England will be in the final. The last time England were in the final, was in 1966, which I remember well, watching it in Guernsey with Dave my granddad. He was very pleased, and the fact it was the West Germans we beat then, doubly pleasing after the occupation. There is a feeling that, in the words of the song, it's coming home, football's coming home.
And then L and I dragged ourselves up to bed, but only after I had to struggle with Calliope who brought two live frogs in from the garden and I took them out again.
Anton came around and we three ate salty snacks, drank some beer and watched England beat Sweden, to secure them a spot in the World Cup semi-finals, the first time since 1990. Weirdly, the English seemed to be having fun and expressing themselves, and had a comfortable 2-0 win. Gareth Southgate is an excellent manager. I really want Raheem Stirling to score a goal, because he went to my old school in Wembley, and his hesitancy in an England shirt in front of goal is so obviously a psychological glitch. He sends fear into the hearts of the opposing defence with dribbling and darting runs. One goal from him will unleash a torrent.
Enjoyed having Anton round, and we seemed to drink quite a lot of beer, but the occasion did warrant it. Another blooming scorcher today. The plants are crying out for water.
Anton went home, and I found the only logical thing to do was to watch the next match, which was Russia versus Croatia. Lorraine cooked some gorgeous chicken wrap things, and we settled down to see a titanic struggle, after a poor first half. The Croats going through on penalties. Croatia are England's next opponents in the semifinal. I think England can beat the Croats, and if they do England will be in the final. The last time England were in the final, was in 1966, which I remember well, watching it in Guernsey with Dave my granddad. He was very pleased, and the fact it was the West Germans we beat then, doubly pleasing after the occupation. There is a feeling that, in the words of the song, it's coming home, football's coming home.
And then L and I dragged ourselves up to bed, but only after I had to struggle with Calliope who brought two live frogs in from the garden and I took them out again.
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