Archive
Fabled
Here’s one for Motherwell supporters of my vintage. What would Andy Paton have been like in the modern game?
Night and day.
This afternoon I traveled by train from Flaca, north of Girona, to Barcelona. The train was clean, comfortable and it arrived on time. With my €6 senior card it cost €7.90.
Last month I traveled by rail from Dunbar to Newcastle. The train was late, filthy, and the return journey was cancelled without notice.
As far as I’m concerned our tail unions can strike for as long as they like. Every day without them is for the better.
Why do we tolerate crap provision rather than aspire to make it better.?
❤️
Pleasures and privilege of being a Grampar, as she spells it. Right up there is taking her to a shopping mall, aged twelve, an incipient teenager, giving her a certain amount of money and turning her loose.
When it was done, and she had spent that certain amount, exactly, to the last cent, I asked her what she had learned from the exercise. Reply: ‘I learned how to shop!’
Kaw-Liga
I’m five minutes into ‘The Rig‘ a series on Prime. I was drawn in by some fine Scottish actors at the top of the cast list, Martin Compston, Iain Glen, Mark Bonnar, people who don’t usually put a foot wrong.
What I didn’t check out was the director. That’s if there was one, for the thing sounds completely wooden, like a script read-through with the cameras running by mistake. No inflection, no interpretation, no nothing. Should I persevere? Someone tell me please, for I am about to switch off.
Spare, a thought
What do I think of the lad Sussex? I reckon he is enduring the most public emotional breakdown one can imagine, and the longest lasting with no sign of it ending. The fact that he’s making money in the process is irrelevant, or would be were it not for the fact that Netflix, Oprah, Random House, ITV and all the others who have cashed in on his obvious instability are all making a hell of a lot more than he is. He’s a tragic figure whose therapy following his mother’s violent death in the public eye was to be made, as a twelve year old, to walk through Westminster behind her coffin and then to be banged off to Eton while his father got on with his life and his new relationship. It’s as clear as daylight that he has never got over that, nor has he been given any sort of effective help. He’s a victim and he should be pitied, not pilloried.
What would I have done if I’d been his father? I’d never have let him out of my sight even if he was a constant reminder of his mother.
As I look at this unfolding tragedy, I find myself wondering what kind of man KC3 really is, and also, what’s going on inside the head of his older son.
Really?
Guess what the lady is doing? That’s right, she’s feeding the seagulls. As if …,
Farcical
My favourite film of 2023. 7 Women and a Mystery, on Netflix. Okay, I have only seen one so far, but it cheered me up.
Quintin Jardine's blog 