It’s Saturday night and I’ve spent the day in the office, supporting a comics workshop in our creative studio. I like working the odd Saturday – it means I get to see some of the welcomers and volunteers who aren’t always working in the week.
Crucially, as I wasn’t in the workshops, I got to spend some time swimming in the depths of my inbox. You may remember that June was a bit of a write-off workwise and May was a tad hectic while we got ready to open. Emails were flooding in the whole time and I wasn’t able to tackle them with my usual aplomb.
A previous director, when I left the organisation, said that he’d miss me as he knew that if something got handed to me he knew it would get done quickly and efficiently. Oh, how times change…right now my inbox is in triple figures and I’m constantly worried I’m going to miss something important. People won’t get paid as i haven’t coded and forwarded their invoice. One of my tutors will send me a materials list and I won’t see it. I’ll miss a meeting. It’s stressful, and what seems to happen on a regular basis is that I’ll reply to an email and then they’ll send me another one! It’s never ending!
I’m off this week on actual leave and wanted to feel as if there wouldn’t be anything crucial waiting to bite me when I got back. The trouble with being injured but not ill as such is that you have guilt about not working, especially when it’s a busy period, so you stress out and it’s hard to give yourself space to relax* and recover even when you can only see out of one eye.
So today – no meetings – was a great chance to also wrestle the inbox into submission. I deleted, I went for the quick wins, filed the things I’d already dealt with and generally felt a lot better about the whole thing. Now how do I do this for the rest of my life?
*unlike Teddy in this week’s cover image. He has no trouble giving himself space to relax as you can see.
Need something to keep you engaged in the last couple of rounds? Want an excuse to reward yourself for sitting through the entire tournament? For your entertainment and edification (but not edutainment. No.) here’s a fun game for all the family to enjoy. Your very own cut-out-n-keep semi-finals bingo game!
Get a whole line? Reward yourself with a nice cup of tea and a biscuit, though not chocolate in this heat.
Full card? Break out the prosecco. You have earned it. Maybe with a few Walkers Bangers & Mash crisps. /
This week – apart from binging Elle, the ‘prequel’ series to Legally Blonde, I have mostly been watching football. This is a worrying development and builds on the week or so I spent watching the snooker in May. I like watching snooker, it’s like ASMR but with a winner. The commentators are so calm and quiet, the click of the cue ball against whatever the other colour is is short and sharp, and the audience (you can’t really call them a crowd) get ssssshed if they get overexcited. When I confessed this in the office, it turned out there were a fair few others watching it for the same reason. Honestly, you’d think we were all a little tightly wound in May or something.
Football, especially any World Cup game involving Latin/South American teams like Mexico or Paraguay, cannot be described as relaxing under any circumstances. Horns, drums, shouting, music – and that was just outside the England team’s hotel the night before. I didn’t see this game as I was sensibly fast asleep but I’ve been assured the second half was spectacular, notably for England winning despite only having ten men, for Jordan Henderson getting a yellow card without even going on the pitch, and then for breaking his arm falling over an advertising hoarding. As I write this I’m hoping to stay up for the England vs Norway game but kick-off is after 9pm so maybe not…I did have a nap earlier and am currently quite conscious so the signs are good.
I used to go regularly to club games featuring West Ham, but the international aspects of the so-called ‘Beautiful Game’ have passed me by. I didn’t even know Wales had a football team until I went to live in England as I was brought up in a staunchly rugby watching household. The Mitchell & Webb and IT Crowd sketches embedded in this post pretty much summed me up. For some while I worked part time in a West Bromwich Albion pub in Hackney and at that point could explain the offside rule with the aid of two highball glasses and a lemon but those days are long gone.
I was also scarred somewhat on the international front by the 1996 Euros game where England lost to Germany on penalties – the one Gareth Southgate* missed, bless him – which happened to be on my birthday. The angry English people watching the game – teacher training students. in a lot of cases – turning round and screaming ‘go home’ at the foreign students was ugly, to say the least. Especially as we were at uni in Wales at the time.
This World Cup, however, is proving entertaining although probably for the wrong reasons. The involvement of the Orange Basketcase in getting Balogun-the-American player’s suspension suspended, leading the Belgian manager to say he ‘didn’t know July 5th was April 1st in America’ as well as to UEFA being all self-righteous, and to England appealing against one of their player’s bans (unsuccessfully). Ronaldo was also allowed to play in the tournament under a similar rule, despite a three-match ban with two games left to serve, but I think this may be more to do with time off for good behaviour rather than interference by the Portuguese government. Infantino, the head of FIFA, is also the idiot who invented a ‘peace prize’ to award to Mr Sore Loser. Some countries who backed his presidency are now allegedly withdrawing their support. In the bad old 70s and 80s it was violent fans bringing the game into disrepute, occasionally the players in the nineties – it’s coming to something when it’s the head of the international game.
There has also been some extremely questionable refereeing – the France vs Paraguay game being a case in point, where poor Mbappe was being harassed throughout by the opposition, people diving were rolling over three times in outrageously dramatic ways, and the ref was unable, apparently, to see any of it. France won it on a penalty, which served the Paraguayans right quite frankly.
The so-called hydration breaks (a lot of advertising and additional time for managers to talk to players) even in indoor stadiums have added a lot of time onto games – as has all the extra time and penalties which can make games last forever more than two hours and delay my bedtime. The extra round of 48 teams at the start of the tournament has provided some excitement (and a lot of extra time) with close calls caused by teams like Cape Verde and Curacao for example.
The commentators are a good mix of men, women and Roy Keane’s beard which made him look quite grandfatherly but he shaved it off midweek. I like the technical explanations from the ex-US women’s coach, a full on Essex girl who started with chalk until they let her play with the computer. Why are they broadcasting from what looks like a breakfast TV set though?
Women commentators really annoy some men which is an added bonus, especially since the women’s team have arguably brought football home much more recently and reliably than the men’s. That’s something else that gets right on my nerves – the constant banging on about 1966. I mean, good lord people – sixty years! David Baddiel’s ‘thirty years of hurt’ is now twice that and they still won’t shut up. I’m not sure what they’d do if they actually won it, of course – what would they go on about then?
Right, it’s 9.20pm and the build-up to the game is starting. I’d better find some snacks and a drink and phone the friend who explains it all to me…
Gareth Southgate being a thoroughly nice chap in a waistcoat
*I have a lot of time for Gareth Southgate, of course, and have supported him and his waistcoats through several tournaments. He strikes me as an extremely sensible chap who’s still doing a lot for young men. His empathy towards his players and his gentlemanly behaviour is much better than, for example, the coach I saw getting yellow carded by the ref in a game this week.
Things making me happy this week:
Seeing schools enjoying the Centre at last – they’ve been in, I haven’t, just to be clear
This in turn meant I got to hug Chris Bailey and congratulate him on his wedding earlier in the week
House sitting in Buckhurst Hill meaning I could commute on the airconditioned Weaver Line, at least until it broke
A Wowcher offer – a 60 minute sports massage in airconditioned splendour near Liverpool St
Hackney Gelato Banana Caramel and Pecan flavour ice cream
Plotting the Little Owls story and craft session this week. I’ll be reading Judith Kerr’s The Tiger Who Came To Tea and we’ll be making tiger masks
Honestly, gang, the second half of 2026 needs to pull its socks up and do a damn sight better than the first, as none of the stuff in the past six months was on my life bingo card back in January. However, things will hopefully start looking up even if I still can’t….
Last Sunday’s operation was a success, the lovely consultant and her assistant informed me, and my eye is looking better already. I have to take their word for it as almost a week later I’m still viewing the world through a haze of swelling, bruising and ointment. It’s starting to feel less painful though I’m continuing to wear large sunglasses in public and my eyebrow is oddly quirked in a way I could never manage on purpose. Crossing roads is dangerous as I have no peripheral vision on my right side and turning my head too far causes double vision. Going anywhere – even over the road to Miriam’s or on Friday making my way to Rhiannon’s to house-sit (all of 40 minutes) is exhausting.
I was also reassured (but not remotely surprised as I know what causes this sort of thing) to be told my pregnancy test (mandatory) was negative. I think I was reassured when everyone kept asking me what operation I was in for and then drew an arrow pointing to my right eye. I tried saying ‘leg amputation’ once just to see what the reaction was….she did at least double check my notes…
The team at the hospital were lovely and looked after me really well apart from all the shining of lights in my eyes and poking me with the odd needle which was apparently necessary. There were no beds available in the hospital (again) so I got to spend all my time in recovery rather than on a ward. It was…interesting. The lovely team kept me full of tea and biscuits, and I even got to choose my lunch from the restaurant (venison stew or burgers!), but it also meant no visitors.
This rule did not seem to apply to the family of the young man who had flipped his car on the M11 roundabout on Sunday morning, who finally appeared from surgery at about 9pm. At that point about a dozen poeple arrived all claiming to be his immediate family, ignoring the nurses when they tried to say that only his parents were allowed in, and letting each other in and out in groups of three and four. I was impressed by his auntie’s fervent and extensive prayers, less so by his girlfriend’s noisy shoes, the ones who were on their way to Stansted and dropped in as it was on the way, and by the raucous party they appeared to be holding in the waiting room until 11pm. Eventually – having been told once too often by the family that the nurses ‘got no right to stop us going in, we’re family’ – the nurses phoned security at which the ‘family’ were all outraged innocence and ‘but whyyyy, we ain’t done nothing wrong’. Eventually they moved the poor lad to a ward. I dread to think what would have happened if noisy shoe girlfriend had heard about the other ‘girlfriend’ who’d been in the car with him when he flipped it.
The other drama was the poor chap who’d had his appendix removed and on waking up and being asked if he knew where he was replied ‘Of course I do! I’m in a SHAM ward in a SHAM hospital and YOU’RE TRYING TO STEAL MY ORGANS’. The poor nurse explained that no, he’d had his appendix out and was in recovery, he’d just woken up from his anaesthetic. A few moments later as they gave him something or other…’NOW YOU’RE GIVING ME ILLEGAL DRUGS! PHONE THE POLICE!’ in tones of absolute outrage. Honestly, it quite took the edge off my fentanyl buzz.
Still, the lovely team were great – so patient taking care of a whole lot of people, protecting their few beds from marauding ED managers and tolerating all sorts of weird reactions from anaesthetics. I’m glad I took my earplugs though…
Hopefully later this week I’ll be feeling up to going into the office even if I keep my giant sunnies on….
Things making me happy this week
Lovely friends looking after me
Dinner with London sister and brother in law and two of the Things
Hackney Gelato Banana Caramel & Pecan ice cream
Spoiling myself with a pedicure (thanks to family for the guilt free birthday treat!)
Long phone conversations – going old school but with unlimited minutes
And that’s it from me for the week – hopefully next week I’ll be less lopsided and able to do more things.
What I’ve been reading
Jump/Mount/Tackle – Jilly Cooper. All of these are supposed to have exclamation marks in the titles but I! Just! Can’t! (A Jilly question – why do all working class characters have broad cockney accents even the darkest depths of badly-concealed Gloucestershire?)
What Kirsty did next 