“What time is it….??”
“Good morning George, it is 2.27….”
Up in time to see Nathan Lyon nick off to Ben Duckett. England lead by 40 runs. All is well…
Back to bed. Fitful sleep…
“Alexa, what is the England score….?”
“In Bangladesh, Ireland are batting….”
“No Alexa, what is the England score…?”
“In India, South Africa are batting….”
“No Alexa, what is the (expletive..) England score…”
“At lunch, England are 51 for 1….”
All is well. Until. And then. And “what the hell” and “Jeez” and “what on earth is going on…”
Agony. The agony of being a sports fan. The agony and the ecstasy. I spend my life dealing with the highs and lows of our sport. In my “down time”, I spend my life dealing with the highs and lows of other sports…
Good for the heart and the soul and the blood pressure and the torn nerves ?? Or…?!
Sport, Bloody Hell…!!
Twists and turns and snakes and ladders and rollercoasters and bumper cars….
Absolute agony…
No runners for us this weekend. Some fascinating jumps racing in amongst the barrage of small field races that are very prevalent right now…
And a correction. The well remunerated Julie Harrington, to whom I alluded yesterday, was Head Of British Cycling BEFORE taking on the BHA poisoned chalice and not AFTER….
And I’m sure she deserved every penny of that £500,000 final year payment…
Sure…
Back to the agony and the blood pressure pills…
