Friday Five: More Podcasts

Back in May I wrote a blog post about the podcasts to which I was listening in COVID-19 times. Well, it's still going on, and I'm still listening. I just keep adding them to the list, and they roll around and keep me entertained alongside my regular favourites. Here are five more recently-listened-to podcasts.

5 Recent Podcasts:

1. The Guilty Feminist (Patreon) - Deborah Frances-White hosts this podcast which ranges from stand-up comedy to interviews about hard-hitting topics such as domestic abuse and genital mutilation; recent episodes have covered Justice, Satire, Rebellion, Shame, Education and Credibility. Every episode kicks off with a round of  'I'm a Feminist, but...' as hosts and guests confess to 'shameful' double standards which we can all recognise. While mixing up the tone, the message remains firmly to fight for gender equality, and this is also the podcast that introduced me to the wonderful protest folk music of Grace Petrie. 
2. The Anfield Wrap (TAW Player) - Yes, it's all about Liverpool F.C. and yes, it has over 28 million downloads worldwide. Neil Atkinson hosts a group of blokes (and it is nearly always blokes, unfortunately) who sit around discussing the highs (of which there are many lately) and lows of the club. There are a number of levels to which one can subscribe, but the free content is sufficient for me, covering transfers, signings, matches (both before and after), player interviews and a plethora of awards. Bonus 'cup of tea' episodes address current issues and how they affect the club from supporting foodbanks to LGBTQI rights and kicking racism out of football. 



The lads of The Anfield Wrap with the manager of the Anfield team

3. No Filter (Mamamia) - If interviews with interesting folk are your thing, then this Australian podcast hosted by Mia Freedman might be for you. With a fresh approach and a candid attitude she chats to well-known celebrities (Julia Gillard and Osher Gunsberg) and 'ordinary people' with incredible stories, such as a mother of a trans child or the bloke whose wedding sparked a COVID outbreak. 
4. Have You Heard George's Podcast (BBC Sounds) - George Mpanga (aka George the Poet) delivers a highly individual take on societal issues through a mixture of music, poetry and storytelling. The first series, which came out in 2018, won four gold awards at the British Podcast Awards, plus two silvers and the podcast of the year.  His subjects included blaxploitation films, Reaganomics and why drug dealing and murder can seem the only options for black youth, whether in the 1970s and 80s US or contemporary UK.
5. Newscast (BBC News) - I started listening to this when it was Brexitcast, then it became Newscast, then Coronaviruscast, and now I think we're back to Newscast. It might be tricky to keep up with the title but the premise is the same - intelligent, topical political and social issues introduced by Adam Fleming, and discussed 'with the BBC's best journalists and other people who know what they're talking about'. It's basically how I check in with what's going on back in Blighty; it's interesting informative and measured with lots of heft and a touch of levity.

COVID-19: We Aren't Gathered Here Together

Last weekend it was Easter. I am a 'wishy-washy Anglican' (not actually my words, but I have been called thus) and only really attend Church at the major religious festivals - Christmas, Easter and Whitsun being the big dates in my calendar. Of course, this year I could not go to Church - no one can - and I missed it. I missed singing the songs and saying the prayers; I missed turning to my fellow members of the congregation and wishing them peace and good will. And I missed them doing the same for me. I missed that communal feeling.

For the same reason, I love watching sports and theatre; I enjoy a shared experience. Knowing that you feel the same thing as others is a wonderful thing. When I breathe in the hallowed turf of Anfield, it is a spiritual moment; all the home players and supporters know what I mean - we stand and sing together and no one cares how out of tune we are; we are in time. Our time. Any true fan will tell you the same (although they will worship at a different shrine). 

When the curtain raises on the stage and everyone takes a collective breath, we are all waiting to see what unfolds together. This moment will never be repeated - every performance is different - and we know we are privileged to witness it. And when the curtain falls and people applaud, they do it together. I have been part of a cast that received a standing ovation. It was magical and unforgettable. We did it for the audience and the audience appreciated us; and we were one. It was incredible.

I like listening to a band, but I prefer going to a gig or a festival. I don't need to then hear this gig again; I'm not a fan of live albums because generally the sound quality isn't as good, and the whole point is the being there. I am pleased the National Theatre, The Globe and the RSC are screening some of their performances so we can all enjoy things that we couldn't otherwise see - but we are still watching them alone. The roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the crowd is missing. (Yes, that was deliberate.)

'Queen Elizabeth viewing the performance of The Merry Wives of Windsor, at the Globe in Merrie England' by David Scott

I like a drink as much as the next person. But there's a reason I go to pubs and clubs, even if the beer is often ridiculously overpriced. I like the atmosphere of sharing things with like-minded folk. Restaurants and cafes are better when they're busy (not cramped and heaving full, but with a low-level hum of noise). Silence is good when it is shared. Have you had a moment's silence in public? Then you know what I mean: there is nothing more moving than a collective memorial. 

Over the last few weeks I have held many on-line conversations and 'attended' conferences and meetings; I have done group trivia quizzes and play readings; I have watched re-runs of football matches and 'live' theatre. But I have missed the physicality. I will stay at home, and I will practice the physical distancing, because it saves lives and that's what matters. But when all this is over, I will find my flock and I will join them again, and we will sing our songs. 

Because it may be elitist; it may be exclusive; but being there is everything.

Friday Five: Cross Stitch Designs

To help with general mental health and well-being, I am still doing cross-stitches; here are another five of my latest cross-stitch creations. The first three patterns and explanations are taken from Really Cross Stitch; for when You Just Want to Stab Something a Lot by Rayna Fahey.

Poverty, war, climate change, corruption, slavery, refugees, indigenous rights, education, housing, health care, child care, food prices, domestic violence, prison reform, gun control, equal pay, trade agreements, tax reform, chemical warfare, land mines, pollution, drilling, fracking, mass control of the population through the media; I could go on FOREVER.

It'd be a lot quicker and more concise just to stitch this pattern. But don't temper your rage. As Gloria Steinem once said, "The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off."

"We will be the thorn in your side. The glass in your bread. The pain in your ass." - Anti Racist Action

The needle in your eye...

Last time I checked, there were a grand total of zero feminists advocating for the rounding up of men and stuffing them into gas chambers. There are, however, thousands of white supremacists organising around the world for the elimination of interesting people. Standing up against fascism is really important (see: the twentieth century). They're not normally a smart bunch so it's not actually that hard.

Lobbyists spend literally billions of dollars a year to keep the world's politicians on the side of greed. Every time we optimistically sign a petition, there's ten of these bastards lined up to open up nee loopholes.

But these times are indeed a'changing. We are taking back our democracy and turning the tables on lobbyocracy.

"It took this horrific moment of darkness to wake us the fuck up. It seems as though we had all slipped into a false sense of comfort, that justice would prevaila dnt at good would win in the end. Well, good did not win this election. But good will win in the end." - Madonna, Washington Women's March

I made this for a friend for her birthday. We watched The Handmaid's Tale and avidly discussed each episode after it had aired. This particular design was inspired by one of those church signs outside the Gosford Anglican Church equating repressive legislation with the fictional regime of Gilead in Margaret Atwood's tale of dystopian society. And also, by the fact, that according to the TV series it spawned, 'Muffins mean yes".

Liverpool FC: six-time champions of Europe. YNWA. Enough said.

Friday Five: Red and White

A couple of years ago I mentioned my love of red and white as a colour combination. Leaving aside the fact that red and white grapes make up champagne, there are still at least five reasons why those colours look brilliant together:

5 Great Red and White combos:

1. Christmas - from stripy candy canes to the great jolly present-giver himself
2. England - the red rose of the House of Lancaster merged with the white rose of the House of York to form the Tudor rose and the emblem of England
3. Liverpool FC - need I say more?
4. Strawberries and cream - one of the best and simplest food presentations ever
5. Barbers' poles - curiously hypnotic

Looks good on E-types too

Friday Five: Songs about 'That Woman'

So Margaret Thatcher has died and I have yet to read a report or obituary that doesn't describe her as 'divisive'. I think that's probably the nicest way of putting it, so let's leave it there.

Many people are celebrating and, although I partied hard when she left Downing Street, I can't find joy in the death of a woman who was a mother and a daughter and leaves behind a grieving family. Whatever else, she was a human being - although Him Outdoors and thousands of Liverpool fans disagree.

I am sorry that her legacy of privatisation, personal greed and destruction of communties continues, however, and it is for this reason that today's post has little positive to note, although a couple of the tunes are jolly.

5 Songs about 'That Woman':

1. Promised Land - James - Not only were they one of my favourite university bands, but this song got to me. 'Promise us a home; sell us what we own. The people of my country are divided by her greed. Money is directed to ambition, not to need.' Can't argue with that.
2. I Want to Kill Somebody - S*M*A*S*H - admittedly a little violent, the single was released for one day and reached number 26 on the UK chart, back in 1994 when charts still meant something. Not just anti-Thatcher, but anti-Tori in general. Feelings were running high.
3. Days Like These/ Between the Wars/ Ideology/ There is Power in a Union / Which Side are You on?/ It Says Here - Billy Bragg - Actually pretty much anything by Billy would probably do it. It wasn't just the North that was affcted by her and her party's pernicious politics.
4. Tramp the Dirt Down/ Shipbuilding - Elvis Costello. They don't like her much in Liverpool.
5. One in Ten - UB40/ Stand Down Margaret - The Beat. Or Birmingham.

Last Week's Thing

Here are the main stories that were making the news last week:

6. The Wiggles are disbanding – well, three of them are leaving and being replaced by new versions – one is even a woman! The Blue Wiggle (Anthony Field) is already the highest-paid entertainer in Australia, and now he is the only remaining original Wiggle. According to the outpourings of emotion in the press, mums across the continent are devastated.

5. Michael Clarke (Australian cricket captain) married Kyly Boldy (model with spelling issues). He was the one who left a cricketing tour a couple of years ago to dump former girlfriend Lara Bingle (her of the Australian Tourism Board’s ‘where the bloody hell are you?’ campaign). They wed in a ‘private ceremony’ that they didn’t disclose to the media and tweeted pictures on Twitter. Celebrity gossips admired the ‘brave move’ because apparently women’s magazines would have paid approximately $100,000 for exclusive rights to the ceremony. The Canberra Times had this to say: “Both husband, 31, and wife, 30, have websites listing their key statistics. He has played 83 Tests, scoring 6,097 runs at an average of 48.78. She has a 34B bust and brown-green eyes.” Thus proving yet again that while men are respected for their achievements, women are merely judged on their looks.

4. At the Australian International Beer Awards, Hop Hog Pale Ale from Feral Brewery was awarded the best international pale ale prize. Feral Brewery also won the trophy for Champion Large Australian Brewery.This year there were a record 1,344 brews entered from 41 countries, an increase of 10% on last year’s entries. The trophy for Champion Small Australian Brewery went to The Wig and Pen Brewery and Tavern, right here in Canberra. We have already been to it a few times in the fortnight we’ve been here – Him Outdoors refers to it as an oasis.

3. Donna Summer died. I’m not a huge disco fan, but I do admire her music and think I Feel Love and Love to Love You, Baby are great hits. Through accident rather than design, she is also connected to my Queenstown theatrical experiences. I acted in Hot Stuff by Christina Stachurski, to which of course, that was the theme tune, and set the bows to one of my first directorial outings, Night Cleaners by Angie Farrow to her She Works Hard for the Money. She does indeed.

2. Manchester City won the Premier League in the 94th minute of the final day of the season – how exciting is that? And as if it weren’t good enough to see the blue Mancunians over the moon, the tears of the (red) clowns were even more satisfying. As the banners proudly claimed, ‘Manchester: the City is ours!’

1. King Kenny was sacked as manager of the mighty Liverpool FC. I am still in shock, and haven’t yet come to terms with my thoughts over this decision. I’m sure I’ll share them with you at some point.

Three for Stevie



My hero: Captain Fantastic

His 400th league appearance for Liverpool. Three goals against Everton - the first time anyone has scored a hat-trick in the Mersyside Derby since Ian Rush (who scored four goals at Goodison in 1982) and the first Liverpool player to score three in the derby at Anfield since Fred Howe in 1935. Did I hear you say absolute legend? Oh, yes.

And the rest of the team were pretty amazing too. Suarez and Carroll combined well up front, and there was constant delivery of the ball into promising areas. Reina was solid at the back, Kelly made some great runs, and even Carragher managed some decisive tackles without getting booked. I know we're a long way off the pace, but footballing brilliance is always worth watching.

A cup is a cup is a cup

You may belittle the (Carling) League Cup all you like, but it does my heart good to see Stevie G leading his team to victory and wafting the silverware aloft. The match itself, however, did not do my nerves, nails and voice any good at all.

New Year starts here

My New Year's Eve celebrations have begun early - Stevie's back! He comes off the bench at Anfield to captain the team to victory and score a goal himself. You beauty - pass the champagne.

Quick Quintet:Possible Dreams

When I was a child and I couldn't sleep, I tried to think of my favourite dream and wish myself into it. I think they used to feature fluffy kittens and the like. My neice once came downstairs in tears after bedtime because "I can't find a dream with me in it", so I am not alone.

I still do a similar sort of thing - not always when I am trying to sleep; some of them are just my favourite daydreams. Of course there are things we all want (well, maybe not all, but they're pretty common): a cure for cancer, and an end to global poverty being pretty high on the wish list.

But no matter what John Lennon may have you believe, world peace is simply too hard to imagine. I have to be able to visualise these things in my head to make them valid fantasies. And I'm not talking bedroom stuff here - these are all pretty clean.

5 Favourite Daydreams:

1. Crossing the ball for the winning Liverpool goal in the Champions League final. I never score the goal, but I always set it up with a sublime cross that Stevie G blasts into the back of the net. I often re-enact this cross in my sleep - Him Outdoors has the bruises to prove it. The crowd goes wild and I celebrate by leaping up and down inanely with all my teammates (who include Robbie Fowler, Steve McManaman, Kevin Keegan, Alan Hansen, Jason McAteer, John Barnes, Bruce Grobbelar, Michael Owen and Ian Rush)
2. Winning an Oscar - although it is for a stage performance, the setting is all Oscar. My speech is perfect - not too short; not too long; remarkably gracious and un-tongue-tied
3. Driving with Him Outdoors through Cotswold lanes in an E-type Jag convertible. It is British racing green with the luggage strapped to the back. I am looking effortlessly chic in a chiffon scarf and stylish sunglasses and somehow I know we are going to one of those boutique hotels in the country where we will drink gin and tonic on the verandah before sitting down to dinner
4. Some race or other: I'm running really fast down the finishing chute and everyone is cheering and waving flags. I actually imagine this often when I am out on a training run
5. Seeing my book on the shelves of a bookshop. I know what the cover will look like

Quick Quintet: Team Support

With all the Rugby World Cup shennanigans going on, one of the interesting things that has come to light has been the talk of the 'minnow' teams, by which it is meant a team that isn't from the Five Nations and Italy, or the Tri-Nations. (Incidentally, most of the players in these teams hate this patronising tag, and rightly so.) Many folk in the 'provincial' towns have 'adopted' a team, so although they are obviously All Black fans, they will perhaps buy a Namibian flag to wave, or paint their faces in the red and white of Canada.

I'm afraid I simply don't understand this. You either support a team or you don't. You can't feign loyalty for a finite period. The team you support is the one you support and if you're unlucky enough to be born in Burnley, then you just have to tough it out. Although you may have a soft spot for another team and be interested in their results, there is no such thing as a second side. I will watch Wycombe Wanderers and am happy for them when they win but if they ever play Liverpool (and due to the magic of the FA Cup it has happened) there is absolutely no question where my loyalties lie.

5 Teams I Support:

1. England at anything (except the Olympics where it has to be Team GB)
2. Liverpool FC
3. Team HTC Highroad, the lads who led Mark Cavendish to a record number of Tour de France victories were all astounding
4. The New York Yankees - watching them play at Yankee stadium is an experience I will never forget
5. The Lions at rugby - see, we can play nicely with Ireland

Frighteningly good football



I don't usually blog about football teams other than the Mighty Reds, but, unable to sleep last night, I got up and watched Man Utd v Arsenal. What a game that was. It didn't help much with my insomnia.

The first thing I notice is that the Arsenal back four isn't working effectively, or in fact, at all. Their away strip makes them look like Wycombe Wanderers, which probably doesn't help, and Jenkinson is having an absolute nightmare; fouling left, right and centre, and arguing with his own team mates Walcott and Djourou on separate occasions. When he is sent off for a second bookable offense in the second half it is no surprise to anyone. The only novelty is a rare Rooney miss from the resulting free kick just outside the box.

A solid goal from Welbeck is followed swiftly by a saved penalty from Van Persie (doing wonders for De Gea's slim confidence) and a brilliant goal from Ashley Young. When Welbeck pulls up with a hamstring injury about five minutes later, I almost find myself feeling sorry for him. Are these boys warming up, properly, I ask myself (alarmed at how maternal I sound - fortunately there is only the cat to hear me).

Rooney's free kick is obvious to everyone (well, the commentators and me, anyway) and after touching it to Young to stop it dead, he slots it neatly into the top left corner. I've seen him do this before and am amazed that the Arse didn't defend better, or at all (what was that wall doing?). I'm even more amazed when he repeats the exact same thing in the second half with an unsurprisngly equal result. The commentator refers to the 'effervescent Man Utd side' and points out that Rooney is now the ninth highest Man Utd scorer - Giggs is eighth apparently.

Rosicky and Walcott combine for a goal in first half stoppage time, but it's also a defensive error. Later the commentator notes, "No one's bothering too much with their defending", which is a bit like saying "No one's watching the tactical manoeuvres at the beach volleyball". Statistics show that there are more shots on target from Arsenal in the first half and the possession is 51:49% which goes to prove that statistics are bollocks and Fun Boy 3 were right - It ain't what you do, it's the way that you do it.

3-1 at half-time and Wenger isn't looking happy. I predict things will get worse for him and his side, but the Old Trafford crowd singing, "You're getting sacked in the morning" is a bit harsh. As is, "You're sh&t and you've won f#$k all." And, "Going down, going down, going down." At the beginning of the second half, the Arse fans are singing 'We're gonna win 4-3" - bless them. Stranger things have happened, but not many.



A text book copy of the Rooney free kick (as previously mentioned), a lob from Nani and a blast from Park (who has only been on the pitch for about a minute) and it's 6-1. Rooney off the post is half an inch away from a hat-trick, and then a bit of pin-ball wizardry in the Man Utd goal mouth leads to a goal for Van Persie. At 6-2 he doesn't celebrate as wildly as he might, but the Arse fans are still chanting "We love you Arsenal" - I notice Wenger isn't joining in.

When Walcott brings down Hernandez and a penalty is awarded, Rooney does indeed get his hat-trick. "Hat-trick hero in seventh heaven" spouts the commentator thinking he is a headline writer for the News of the World without realising that it no longer exists and that Ashley Young's perfectly placed second goal (and the best of the night) is about to take the score to 8-2.

And that's how it finally ends. The comparisons with the Busby Babes may be a bit premature, but no one (not even me, and believe me, I would if I could) can argue with the quality of Man Utd's strike-force today. I have to say I am impressed with the Arse fans who remain in the stands to applaud their team as they trudge desultorily off the pitch. I am very happy with Liverpool's win over Bolton and the fact that we are looking pretty good. But I can't deny that Man Utd are looking brilliant. So I make myself a Horlicks and go back to bed.

Easter Weekend

Good Friday

Actually, the long weekend started last night when we had friends round to dinner. I made baked figs with blue cheese (and prosciutto for the non-vegetarians among us); penne pasta with mixed mushrooms and goat's cheese, served with a big green salad drizzled with parmesan infused olive oil, and apple and peanut butter crumble (made with apples from Jo Reid's garden) and Bird's Eye custard (from a tin). We drank Easter bubbles from France, oaked chardonnay from Hawke's Bay and pinot noir from Central Otago. This morning we cleaned up.

I submitted some artwork to the Arrowtown Autumn Festival - photographs I have taken and had framed or stretched on canvas. Arrowtown is so peaceful in the morning before the visiting hordes arrive that it is worth taking a moment and reflecting how lucky we are to live here. I picked up some pains aux chocolat and a baguette from the French bakery, which I took home and we had them with coffee on the patio.

Him Outdoors was competing in the Lake Hayes Duathlon, which with the main event of the associated triathlon, is the oldest surviving triathlon in the country. He came second by 45seconds to his main rival in his age-group; quite distressed because 'Dave's got a new bike!'



I, meanwhile, mountain biked around the lake and along some local tracks shouting, cheering and generally supporting with a couple of friends who also had nothing better to do.

Afterwards we thought we might have a drink at the local pub but it was closed and the one down the road was charging a surcharge (which I loathe - they make enough money to be able to pay their staff without hiking the prices - if you don't think you can afford to open on a public holiday; don't) so they lost out on four meals and several rounds of drinks from us, as we went home and drank red wine in the front room instead.

Later in the evening we watched The Fakers, 'a funny, sharp and fast-moving tale of blackmail and forgery set in the upper echelons of the international art society'. The 2004 film is billed as an off-beat comedy along the lines of The Thomas Crown Affair or The Italian Job - those are two of my favourite films and it doesn't live up to them, but it's not bad. It stars Matthew Rhys whom I've only ever seen as Kevin Walker on Brothers and Sisters, and he's actually very good - and Welsh! Who knew? I have more respect for him now - not because he's Welsh, but because he can really act.

Easter Saturday

Him Outdoors had some vouchers that he won at the Motatapu Adventure Race burning a hole in his pocket, so we strolled into town along the river and paid our respects at the cenotaph (it is Anzac Day tomorrow and will be heaving so we got in early) before popping into the shops and buying woolly jumpers and a flat cap for everyday (he still has his grandad's 'for best').

Back home we watched a couple of short films on a DVD I got free with The Observer when I was in England last year. It features 'five early short films from Britain's most influential filmmakers'. First was Amelia and the Angel (1958) directed by Ken Russell. In black and white with a gentle voice-over, it tells the tale of Amelia who takes home her angel's wings to show her mother, 'even though she will see them tomorrow at the school play'. When her horrid brother destroys them, she searches throughout London for another pair (including cemeteries and rag and bone carts), despairing until she stumbles across an artist's studio where a bearded sandal-wearing painter dresses up his models in theatrical outfits.

The clear narrative arc, dramatic music and omniscient narrator reminded me of an episode of The Clangers - things were simpler back then, even for Ken Russell it seems. Some of his early directorial touches are evident; the low camera work intended to mimic a child's view would have been considered a stroke of genius, although commonplace now.

Next was Boy and Bicycle (1965) directed by Ridley Scott. A teenaged boy bunks off school and cycles around Hartlepool instead - you'd have to imagine school was pretty dire if this is his preferred pastime. The strteets are empty; the beaches are deserted; the factories are grim. The young man provides a self-consciously assured voice-over in a landscape that seems almost post-apocalyptic.

The tracking shots and building of tension are clearly the director's trademarks and it's interesting to see them in their infancy. Scott was a photography student when he made this, which is apparenty in the perfect composition of the shots. Living in a world where we are bombarded with audio pollution and sensory stimulation, this was almost soporific (perhaps intentially - the revolving spokes of the bicycle wheel being particularly hypnotic), and so we decided to leave the rest for another day.

Later still (in the middle of the night) I watched Liverpool take Birmingham apart. Not only was the 5-0 scoreline (including a hat-trick from Maxi Rodriguez) something to celebrate, but I was hugely encouraged by the way the team played with energy, enthusiasm and something like the passing precision of old. I miss Stevie G, of course, but it's also great to see the 'youngsters' coming through the ranks - Jay Spearing, Jack Robinson and Jack Flanagan all played well and, although they may be tested by tougher opposition, things are finally looking up for the future.

Easter Sunday

As I walked to church this morning, I saw a lady in her slippers and pyjamas distributing chocolate eggs through her dewy garden. When she saw me she smiled, put her finger to her lips and whispered, 'Shhh, I'm the Easter Bunny'. I didn't have the heart to tell her that she wasn't.

The service at St Paul's was joyful and positive; emotions I could use at present, and naturally, I love a good sing-a-long. An extract from the order of service stated, 'Faith is like a bird that feels dawn breaking and, while it is still dark, begins to sing.' I think that sums it up nicely.

We spent the afternoon in Clyde at the Wine and Food Harvest Festival. As you can tell from the images, a good time was had by all. We came home to rehearse for the show I am directing; Cribbies for the Arrowtown Autumn Festival. It opens a week today, which is more than slightly scary. We went over all the dance moves; many of which I have set, so they are not exactly complicated!

Easter Monday

My cold is catching up with me and I woke up this morning with difficulty breathing. It may not have been the best idea, then to walk up Tobin's Track, but friends called up and that's what we did. The views are as glorious as ever and the couple of dogs that we had for company were certainly entertaining. How wonderful to be a dog when everything is fresh and every smell could be an adventure. They bounded up and down and made us all feel tired so we came home to drink coffee and eat chocolate ducks and rabbits.

Another rehearsal in the evening at which we ran the play for the first time without a prompt. Things are coming together and, although I'm doing all I can, I don't know how you can make people learn their lines! And so I came home to a large glass of pinot noir, a warm fire and a hug from Him Outdoors. It's not been a bad Easter weekend.

In My Red Heaven



What a fantastic result from an excellent game. I know it's just one game, and one for which we were always going to make a considerable effort, and you can't use it as a barometer for the rest of the season, and yet I can't help but allow myself a glimmer of hope that my team are back. We didn't even miss Master Sulky-chops as Suarez played to near perfection. The goals were all tapped in by Kuyt, but the brilliance belonged to Suarez, and maybe to King Kenny for some judicious transfer moves. Andy Carroll is yet to prove himself, but it was good to see him come off the bench for 16 minutes of play.



The mighty reds were absolute angels, darting nimbly around the pitch (even Carragher wasn't caught out of position too often - bless his Liver cotton socks) while the washed out whites (appalling kit from the red shite) were either totally ineffective (Berbatov was their only decent player - Rooney was so annonymous I only knew he was on the pitch when I heard the swearing) or dirty, cheating bastards. Him Outdoors says, 'They don't like it up them!' (It's true - half of his vocabulary comes from Dad's Army which is made only sadder when you realise the rest comes from Bull's Eye).

I'd have handed out at least three red cards for foul play (Van Der Sar - you can't elbow people in the neck just because you didn't realise you can't be off-side when the ball is played back to you; Rafael - attacking the ref in petulant display of temper tantrums is not a good look for anyone over the age of three; Nani - just because you're not getting your own way, kicking people is still wrong and if you can leap up and sprint to the ref in Rumplestilstkin rage, why do you need to be carried off on a stretcher?) and I'm hardly biased at all. In fact, I conceed that Carrager deserved his yellow for a fairly nasty foul on Nani although the latter's miraculous 'recovery dash' did nothing to further his cause.

SKY's halftime commentary featured the question - who has hit the goalposts the most in this season's premier league? Answer: Steven Gerrard. For what he lacks in subtlety, the man certainly has passion and whether the ball is sailing high, wide and none-too handsome into the stands or sinking sweetly into the back of the net, there is no question that 'he twatted that' as my friend Jersey Girl used to say. He blasted a few inches wide in the second half - I read a ridiculous comment that we might not need him any more at Anfield - just behave yourselves!

Kenny Dalglish responded with a smile and a wave as the Kop sang Happy Birthday to him - how cool would that be? Fergie the red-nosed w@#%er was in somewhat lesser spirits - he'll be off to blame the ref and his side's injuries - they hadn't got Vidic and Ferdinand; we didn't have Kelly, Agger or Aurelio after 24 minutes - and I'd be very surprised if he actually gives credit to the opposition (I'll bet he supports the All Blacks).

Of course I don't want the wrong side of Manchester (i.e. Salford) to win their 19th league title and hence one more than us - even my optimism has bounds; I know this is out of our grasp this season. I may even have to support Arsenal in the upcoming crucial games, and so might the red half of Mersyside. But this game wasn't about the title; it was about football, and we just played it better. End of.

Laughing in the Face of Adversity

Today is my birthday and I should be celebrating. And I am, mostly. I have had lunch and coffee with friends, been for a walk by the river and am going out to dinner at a fine Italian restaurant with my husband tonight.

Not everything is a box of fluffies/ bowl of cherries/ bed of roses, however. I have got laryngitis and completely lost my voice so am only able to smile, wave and squeak. I've never especially liked clowns and now am afraid I may be turning into one with my elaborate (panto)mimes! I have noticed that I am still able to laugh, which I find an interesting anatomical curiosity as it seems to prove that laughter is visceral and does not come from the throat at all. In fact, as Peter Cook points out in Tragically I Was an Only Twin,'A laugh, like an erection, is largely involuntary'. Hmmm.

But today's main disappointment has been the performance of my beloved football team. I got up at half past one to watch them lose the Miseryside derby in comprehensive fashion to Everton. Tragic. We are now second to bottom of the league - only kept off the lowest spot by a marginally 'superior' goal difference. This is the worst position Liverpool has occupied in my living memory. Even more tragic.

And yet, the Scousers still see humour in the situation. At Liverpool's John Lennon Airport, there is a bronze statue of the erstwhile Beatle. On the ceiling is written the airport's motto, taken from his song, Imagine: 'Above us only sky'. Rumour has it that some wag has scrawled alongside it, 'Below us only West Ham'. You've got to laugh, apparently... 

Red card? My Arse!

We was robbed, and you know we were...

Still a strong performance and encouraging for our first game of the season. Even down to ten men, the Arse couldn't score against us and we had to do it for them.

Who needs to gamble when you can experience blind optimism and crushing disappointment just by supporting Liverpool?

Hedging my bets

Well, the World Cup kicks off tomorrow and I am so excited! I'm not usually the gambling type but I got my friend, Heart of the District, to take me to the betting shop where I placed my bets. They were a mixture of split loyalties, desperate wishes and a soupcon of common sense. They went like this:

England to win the World Cup (7:1)
Spain v Argentina final (20:1)
New Zealand to make it through the group (9:1)
Fernando Torres to collect the golden boot (13:1)
Peter Crouch to collect the golden boot (50:1)

The girl at the shop laughed at me (well, she's Welsh so her team didn't even make it!) when I told her that I had to support England, New Zealand and Liverpool. She reckons that's actually a pretty common combination in this town. And I know Peter Crouch isn't Liverpool any more - but he should be. Actually I think Germany and Argentina are both in with a chance, and I wouldn't count out Italy either - and of course, you can never ignore Brazil - but I didn't want to bet on them.

So, we shall see. Whatever the outcome, I shall be glued to the screen for the next month. Bring on the beautiful game!

Bye Bye Burnley

Of course it's always good to see Liverpool win, and it's great to see Stevie score a goal - the one he unleashed at Turf Moor today was so exceptional that even the Burnley fans stood and applauded. It was Liverpool's first Premier League away win in 2010. That previous poor away form has not helped them in their quest for Champions League football. There is now a slim chance that they might make the coveted fourth spot, although I don't hold out a lot of hope.

The 4-0 victory, however, is tempered with a touch of sadness as it finally consigned Burnley to relegation - they'll be back in the Championship next season. Him Outdoors is fatalistic - he's seen it all (and far worse) before and is just happy that his boys got the chance to play against the likes of Liverpool, Arsenal, Chelsea and the Red Shite (whom they beat - hurrah!). Also, they don't have the financial woes of Hull or Portsmouth and with some shrewd spending they could well be back up again very soon. I hope so.

Mood altering phenomena

There are two things which can radically change the way I feel and over which I have no control whatsoever. One is the sunshine (it makes me happy) and the other is the performance of my football team.

Liverpool have lost four games in a row - they haven't won the title for 20 years and they are not looking likely to progress past the group stage of the Champions League. Is this the sign of a club in crisis?

It certainly didn't do my heart good to see Stevie G being consoled off the pitch against Lyon with a recurring injury. We 'entertain' the red shite at Anfield this weekend. Without him or Torres and with Benitez tinkering with the team like a mad puppeteer (why on this earth would you replace Benayoun with Voronin for no apparent reason?), we could be in serious need of a paddle. And maybe a bucket and spade. After all, we've already got the beach ball.

I just hope I don't entirely succumb and sink into total despondancy. There's plenty of time for that yet. We have a bank holiday coming up this weekend (they call them statutory days here). It will probably rain.

Winning and Losing

Well thank goodness for that result. Liverpool beat Burnley 4-0 so harmony remains in our household and I can afford to be gracious in victory with Him Outdoors. It was a fantastic result for Benayoun scoring his hat-trick and Stevie G played brilliantly in his alternate position. Him Outdoors admits that his boys played well, but Liverpool are simply a class above, and I’m not exactly going to argue.

Meanwhile the All Blacks lost to South Africa allowing the South Africans to take the Tri Nations title. There is a lot of kicking and chasing and precision penalties in the South African game. Kiwis complain that this is boring – they prefer running the ball from the backs. Both of these versions of the game are equally exciting to me although at the moment, only one is proving effective. Guess which?

The All Blacks are the Man Utd of rugby – beautiful to watch when it’s going well, but ‘they don’t like it up ‘em.’ The penalties they gave away were often for ill discipline, brought about because they were frustrated on the field. Whether you like it or not, if you know you have the best kicking boots in the game, that’s a good tactic by South Africa.

The Weevil was waiting for her bags at the carousel in the airport when the All Blacks turned up, returned from their unsuccessful campaign and looking somewhat sheepish. She said she was excited to be in their midst and found herself grinning, although everyone else was looking away. No one had turned up to welcome them home.

‘Can you imagine being surrounded by the England football team?’ she asked me. I assured her I would have no self-control whatsoever if I were in touching distance of Stevie G, no matter what his recent results. She asked the husband of a friend, known to be a rugby fan, if he weren’t excited by the presence of his sporting idols. He replied, ‘Nah. I might be if they’d won.’ I think that’s indescribably sad.

Are our heroes not allowed to have bad days? Are we so capricious that we turn our backs after one tiny letdown? The All Blacks were beaten by the World Champions in formidable form. I don’t think that’s a disgrace. The only shame here should be attached to the fickle response of the so-called fans.