On the oche

Naturally I’m most disappointed with England’s World Cup exit after another ruddy penalty shoot-out. I immediately booked a coach ticket to London for the 19th of this month as if the promise of a day spent browsing record shops and buying chess nick-nacks would make things better. I even did the weekly shop this evening with Midlake blasting in my ears so that I could avoid dwelling on Rooney’s idiocy and the heartfelt efforts of the remaining ten who were Trojans for the hour they fought with every sinew to stay in the match. Their tears at the end showed how much they cared and wanted it – and at times I have doubted this. The check-out lad at Sainsburys, a sixth-former I reckon, (unwisely) asked me if I had watched the soccer which allowed me to express my frustrations at a fellow who was only making small talk with a haunted looking customer. After listening to my diatribe and outpourings of misery, he uttered the most remarkable and unexpected statement. ‘At least we’ve got Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor,’ he gaily offered. The young chap didn’t appear to have the rapier wit that one would associate with such a killer comment so I’m assuming he actually thought that our country having produced the World Darts Champion somehow made England’s defeat today easier to bear. I felt like kicking his head in frankly but instead smiled generously and murmured, ‘Guess so…’

Earlier on I had to remove my headphones because an elderly man wanted me to tell him the sell-by date on a pint of milk. Apparently he’d bought some recently that was ‘off’. Life goes on. Life goes on.