Today must be a first. I had the choice between staying in the study and doing volunteer village work or doing the garden. For the first time ever I chose the latter as it was a lovely early spring day. So the garden now looks pristine and better than it has for a long long time.
Yesterday on Twitter I came across an extraordinary site. I use the word extraordinary not in the usual good sense. This site was appalling. I won't even give it recognition by telling you the name of the person. Suffice it to say he was American and his tweets were consumed by hate and racism. He described himself as a Christian which he certainly wasn't in any way shape or form. This cretin was referring to the collapse of football Patrice Mwamba from a heart attack during the match on Sunday between Tottenham and Bolton. Again I won't give any credibility to his rantings except to say they were fuelled by the most trenchant racism and you can probably guess what they said. This is one of the problems with social networking. It gives a voice for people to rant and rave through sheer ignorance.
Thankfully Patrice seems to be on the mend. A lot of people will claim that this is thanks to the millions of people praying for his recovery and is a perfect example of the power of prayer. I remain unconvinced by that, but I'm willing to be swayed and I know the fact that millions were praying was a source of comfort to the player's family and that is probably good enough.
Of course had Patrice not pulled through it would have been a total sign that prayer doesn't work. So I guess in football parlance God has made it through to the next round.
I am loving the football biography which I mentioned a few days ago. Mick Rathbone's "The Smell of Football" is one of the most poignant and funny books on our national game I have ever read. This morning (before going into the garden) I found it difficult to put down. I just loved the chapter where he was manager of Halifax who dropped out of the Football League whilst he was in charge. The humour in this chapter is fantastic. He signed an African player who came highly recommended but whom he had never seen play. In one game there was an early injury and he told this new player to warm up, at which point the player went into the clubhouse and sat on a radiator. There are some priceless gems in this book and I will be very sorry when it comes to an end. That's the problem with really good books. You want them to last but just race through them because they are so engrossing.
Off to the Wymondham Railway quiz again tonight. We have won the last two we have attended but I'm not greatly hopeful tonight. Will let you know how we got on tomorrow.
Yesterday on Twitter I came across an extraordinary site. I use the word extraordinary not in the usual good sense. This site was appalling. I won't even give it recognition by telling you the name of the person. Suffice it to say he was American and his tweets were consumed by hate and racism. He described himself as a Christian which he certainly wasn't in any way shape or form. This cretin was referring to the collapse of football Patrice Mwamba from a heart attack during the match on Sunday between Tottenham and Bolton. Again I won't give any credibility to his rantings except to say they were fuelled by the most trenchant racism and you can probably guess what they said. This is one of the problems with social networking. It gives a voice for people to rant and rave through sheer ignorance.
Thankfully Patrice seems to be on the mend. A lot of people will claim that this is thanks to the millions of people praying for his recovery and is a perfect example of the power of prayer. I remain unconvinced by that, but I'm willing to be swayed and I know the fact that millions were praying was a source of comfort to the player's family and that is probably good enough.
Of course had Patrice not pulled through it would have been a total sign that prayer doesn't work. So I guess in football parlance God has made it through to the next round.
I am loving the football biography which I mentioned a few days ago. Mick Rathbone's "The Smell of Football" is one of the most poignant and funny books on our national game I have ever read. This morning (before going into the garden) I found it difficult to put down. I just loved the chapter where he was manager of Halifax who dropped out of the Football League whilst he was in charge. The humour in this chapter is fantastic. He signed an African player who came highly recommended but whom he had never seen play. In one game there was an early injury and he told this new player to warm up, at which point the player went into the clubhouse and sat on a radiator. There are some priceless gems in this book and I will be very sorry when it comes to an end. That's the problem with really good books. You want them to last but just race through them because they are so engrossing.
Off to the Wymondham Railway quiz again tonight. We have won the last two we have attended but I'm not greatly hopeful tonight. Will let you know how we got on tomorrow.
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