Back to football soon, I guess.
I’ve had a week off football and, indeed, a week off work.
Haven’t read anything or heard much and will not think about West Brom till tomorrow.
Steve Bould?
Discussions between Bould and Wenger have been going on for quite a while.
Bould was reluctant, for obvious reasons.
For six years I’ve believed that the most obvious way to improve the Arsenal squad, and to get more consistent results, would be to acquire the input of a No.2 who can shake up the sloppy attitude of some of the players.
The right man could instill the positional imperatives, and defensive disciplines , that every successful football team must have.
I think Wenger’s days are numbered, but Bould could save the manager’s job by changing the Colney Creche culture.
If allowed to do so, Steve Bould could get players to mark opponents and not go walkabout, seeking glory, leaving huge holes at the back.
If Bould can do that, and Jack Wilshere could come back as good as ever, then new man Lukas Podolski might not get the culture shock that a certain little Russian got when he arrived from St Petersburg.
I’m told that 500 Gooners will watch the West Brom game on big screen at the Emirates. That used to cost £5 but is now £8.
Brad Friedel turned down Arsenal when Jens Lehmann left.
What a pity.What an impact a pro like Brad Friedel could have had.
This week I’ve just been pottering about and trying to learn my new computer. Before last Sunday I’d never used Windows 7 or Word, so my fingers have been unlearning old habits all week. The Acer is quick but Myles is very slow.
And yesterday was the silliest day of all.
I went to Tate Modern, the Globe, and shouted at Boris.
When you have membership, you go to more exhibitions than you otherwise would.
Damien Hirst is very Nineties and he has perpetrated the most audacious piss-take of the 20th century.
Underwhelmed, we sat on the balcony of the Espresso Bar, not even bothering to use the comfortable members room upstairs, looking out over the river at St Paul’s and the City.
“Let’s go next door and buy Richard III,” I said.
I’ve never seen the play or read it and we have tickets for August to see Rylance playing the evil king.
We went to The Globe and got the play and I also bought Shakespeare’s Language, a paperback by Frank Kermode. Once a sixth former, always a sixth former.
Although the sky was darkening a bit, we decided to walk down to Waterloo and get the tube from there.
The rain started when we got to the NFT, and as we ran across the road behind the Festival Hall, I saw a burly man cycling towards me with his hood up.
I didn’t vote for him, so I don’t know why I shouted, “Boris!”
The mayor looked back, perhaps because I might have been somebody he knew.
Last night I saw four friends rehearse some new songs.
Two guitars, bass and drums. What you might call a Fender party. Two Strats and a fretless bass provided two hours of streamlined rock & roll and a lot of laughs.
I still get off on an electric guitar played really well.
Next week, back to work and back to blogging as well. Maybe.