Football's Coming Home?

The question mark in the title is important, preserving as it does my self-diagnosed status as detached and sceptical commentator.

Thus far I have avoided the World Cup in these mental peregrinations and I must confess that I had not watched any match in its entirety until England met Colombia, preferring highlights and/or repeat showings. The denouement of that Colombia game was almost too painful to watch particularly once Henderson had missed his penalty. Yesterday's victory over Sweden was easier on the nerves although I don't quite buy into the total dominance narrative that seems to have found favour - no match that you win 2-0 and in which your keeper makes three fabulous saves can be a procession. So now I am all up for the semi-final - dare I watch it other than on my own, that having been the 'lucky' formula for the two knock-out matches thus far? To paraphrase Ray Prosser - it's only a game, well what the f*** do we have goals for?

My mate Donald Trump will be in this country later this week. I have seriously toyed with the idea of joining a peaceful demonstration against the wanton vulgarity of his presidency but I'm afraid the thought of breaking bread with the daft left has put me off.  Anyway it's too hot for demonstrating. On which front (weather front - geddit?) my precious lawn is burnt to straw but, always look on the bright side, the weeds have retreated completely and I can postpone the need to buy a new mower, perhaps getting one last season out of the old faithful - a man can attach the same emotion to his first petrol mower as to his first car.

The heat makes of me a sluggard - I can function well in the perishing cold but extreme heat gets the better of me. Nonetheless I have had to abandon my usually effective plan of waiting for cooling rain and instead set out for a run in the broiling weather yesterday morning. To the usual and absurd get-up of lycra and Oakleys I added a cap. Only shuffled a couple of miles but must admit I feel the better for it.

In addition to the football I have also enjoyed the Irish Open golf from the magnificent looking links at Ballyliffin. Seaside golf, either playing or spectating, can't be beaten. Oh to be in Northumberland hacking up the course at Goswick, the day ended by a walk on the sands at Bamburgh.