Mad game.
A surreal & chaotic quarter-final first leg.
And very annoying.
Right now, I can’t describe it, can’t sum it up.
I need time to gather my scattered thoughts on an event that was the worst part of my Wednesday.
The best was meeting a lovely woman who was working in a charity book store.
Told her I was going to see 8 writers read their work from a boxing ring at York Hall tonight.
“Last year I saw Kate Tempest there and she was fantastic.”
She said, “I saw her do her first gig when she was seventeen.”
Wow! I thought. She told me the back-story of poet/battle rapper Mark Grist, a former teacher.
I said, “Teachers hold the country together. Two of the biggest rock stars of the Eighties were teachers from Newcastle: Sting and Mark Knopfler.”
She said, “I’m a teacher.”
Should have guessed that before she said it.
At 11pm I’ll post my thoughts on Joe Hart, Zlatan, Rabiot & the rest.
Right now I’m gonna have another cup of tea and read more from the Panama Papers.
If my mind is clear, maybe I can do justice to last night’s “game”.
Back at 11.