It has been a while since l last posted and I am sorry to say but this isn’t for you the reader, rather therapy for me. I know there are many who do not appreciate the exhilarating highs and depressing lows that football can deliver but for me as I remain 3000 miles from ‘home’ it is a tangible handle on my old life.
Having a quality coffee shop close by has quickly become an essential signifier of any good neighbourhood. Thankfully mine is closer than most meaning that I can literally wake up and smell the coffee. I have no daily need for caffeine, rather it is a rare treat and hence I cross my fingers for the best barista.
Today it was a good one, a perfect cappuccino from my favourite coffee wrangler made me smile in the freezing cold. It was only a short walk to Floyds which as to be expected for such a big game was full and noisy by 8.30am. A tense first half low on incident was followed by drama, action, intrigue and finally devastation.
I left bewildered, unable to accept that from being so close to elation my day was now drowned by the despair of defeat snatched from the jaws of victory. If an emotion can be melodramatic yet genuine then this was it. Not even an excellent chocolate croissant devoured on the trudge home would elicit an upswing in mood.
Now I am left with the Sunday blues and questions of what if???????