Slow Self-Portrait with Remote Shutter Release

That's one whole second of my life I won't get back...

So, today was the day of the footballing comeback. And when you make a comeback for the vets, you know you are old*. And it was a proper Sunday League football match. The pitch had a pronounced slope and there was a gale force wind blowing from one goal to the other. We didn't convert any of the many chances we had in the first half (uphill but with the wind behind us) and were penned in our own half for the second session. It looked like a 0-0 draw but, after 85 minutes, their first real chance resulted in the only goal of the morning. I didn't embarrass myself and, in fact, came off after 80 minutes so I'm refusing to accept any blame for the goal.

The post-match post-Mortem was more vitriolic than I remember... The strikers blamed the defence for not "playing the ball out" in the second half whilst the defence pointed out that there wouldn't have been a problem if the strikers had actually put away any of the golden chances that they had in the first half. And that their (the defence's) grannies could have made a better fist of it.

Got home and, feeling rather peaceful, did some easy jobs (reconciling the bank account, sorting out some tickets (Agnes Obel at Somerset House and Camera Obscura at Birmingham) and, err... the crossword!)

*A few years ago, before I retired, I once won the Most Improved Player award. When you win the Most Improved Player award for a vets team, you know you were terrible to start with!