the empty October

We're almost in the middle of the month and I'm still trapped in the hectic pace of the race. The little one picks up cough, colds, bruises in the nursery pass them on to us and we're nursing illnesses, in a way.

Actually, it's the hubby's stirring passion for camaraderie that lets the flesh down through going to football matches, meeting up with friends one full weekend then dropping off baby in the nursery the next day segue way to work and late afternoon daddy time to work again the following morning. The weekend screams at WHL or away games ushers the virus and transferring them to me.

It's altogether uncomfortable, painful, this bed bound state. My head is about to explode. Since the weather attacks with vicious implosion and I have to be alert at all times, I'll cancel the social aspect of my routine, as if it's not already vanished from the existence. The Christmas do for whatever reason would be nothing but faint hope. The omnipotent forces wouldn't allow extra time off during the holidays and January and February are not very friendly months. It's all down to planning. Will I lose any more friends as I run for cover and avoid the hoopla of the holidays? I'm not sure. Those besieged with kindness would be able to understand. As for others, I'm not that unmissable.

eddshrinker cup 2013

team Ben -- 6
Dicko -- 2
Dazza -- 1
Chicko -- 1
Stubbsy -- 1

team Dave -- 4
Dan -- 2
Wayne -- 2

Goal of the Match
Dazza -- free kick ( team Ben)

Man of the Match
Jason (team Ben)


--for Edd--
one of the nicest blokes ever.

walk in the thaw

a photograph.
taken
in the snow.

sometimes during the advent of summer, i reminisce through the pictures with the flaky backdrops. how after a day, the flakes melt and become so slippery, navigating from one point to the next becomes arduous. but it's ever so picturesque on Instagram. one example are pictures of clint dempsey and AVB celebrating after the equalising goal on fergie time. or just imagine our sweet baby girl lying on the flakes wearing her coat courtesy of tita julie t.

and then the icy drizzles made me ruminate on some skills i don't have like baking, arts and craft, reading flutters, enunciating perfectly and a lot more. sleeping the morning away is never a good idea, despite the late night, there are skills to learn.

cuddles

the baby girl has rattled the calendar. it's not her routines per se that drain energy. it's the interruptions. the screaming, wailing delays meals, reading, housework. but since she's this adorable tyke ( photographs don't do her justice, speaking like a mother), she's all worth the agonising efforts. she also has a mother who thinks pushing prams is overrated. i can't wait before she can walk. the buggy just takes too much space in public places and jousting for these spaces is an olympic sport in itself. mothers are like vultures. i breed, now go away?

it's an advantage that baby girl is still small enough for the baby carrier ( like the bouncer, truly a life saving device). it was a huge challenge bringing her to the Olympic park during the last event of the Paralympics, hottest day of the year, not so prudent to have less than eight week old infant in tow, we were offered front seats though (proving that the volunteers were saints). now, at 11 weeks, in the early days of autumn, she's a gem.

luster

in my very limited view, i can only assume,( there are tons of versions penned by various columnists and writers), that there are two kinds of people in this world -- those who like to party and those who retreat into their shells and would rather read a book.  there's no prize for guessing my preferred category.  the third in line to the british throne is clearly in the other one -- playing strip billiards with strangers? i'm too useless with a pool stick to even attempt playing a normal game.  yeah, i'm such a sad case.
 this piece doesn't tell us anything we don't already know but why was the 400 IM Olympic champion mentioned as the party companion? the swimmer was with his own wingmen and guests celebrating his 28th birthday.  while as documented, the prince was hanged around with his public school chums.  they have the money and the cache to party in vegas, so let them party in vegas. they don't have to worry about where to get their next meal.
all the stories on neil armstrong is of course, heartwarming.  here was a person who achieved so much yet remained private.  in today's world of reality television, the first man on the moon is the epitome of human accomplishments.  his passing only reminds us of  those fantastic achievements.  discovering new frontiers, doing good, imparting knowledge, amongst other pragmatic endeavours should be the foundation of human existence.
meanwhile in the universe of biblical idioms, i shouldn't be reading too much between the lines.  but certain familiarity breeds contempt.

missed? (at the Olympic park 2)

there were 24 beeb channels during the Olympic fortnight and mostly accessible venues for the live events. it seemed each sport had a corresponding television coverage for every participating nation or the likes ( i mean, yeah, weightlifting). the ticketing process meanwhile, was complicated. if you get tickets, you get tickets, if not, witness the marathon, triathlon, the two-wheel time trial and the road race along the alleyways of London's picturesque locations, if you can manage to wake up earlier than the Olympians.





we didn't even have to watch the men's handball preliminary competition between Iceland and France. all i ever wanted was to get inside the Olympic park and marvel at the contour of the aquatic center. we were there during its busiest weekend hence not finding a bench for chow. i could capture the spirit of the games within the confines of the park. we skipped the second match between Hungary and Spain, it was late and i missed our tiny tot.

bench kindly enlightened me that it took her three months post childbirth before going out on a date with her hubby. it took me only less than three weeks to leave baby girl for a few hours with grandma. it's the Olympics and i was definitely aware of the significance. now i'm with her almost every minute of the hour. still trying to write and understand more than ever the spirit of patriotism and jingoism and with a confounding query, are gold medals worth more than silver and bronze combined?

after 17 days

there are only a few highlights in our lifetime, London 2012 is one of them for me. the chance to be able to go to the games brings forth a unique sense of euphoria. i kept pinching myself, if all these were real. yes, the venues were merely a tube ride away. the television and interactive coverage were beyond expectations.
a few athletes provided moments of inspiration; this page recognizes david rudisha, the brownlee brothers, mo farrah (the one exceptional gooner), michael phelps, tom daley.
RP didn't medal, again. but mark anthony barriga has real talent. he lost by a point in his second match. maybe in Rio, when the officials would get their act together, the home country would be in the medals table. sports is about funding. money rules, specially in the Olympics.

let's go to the gymnastics, one of the blue ribbon events, particularly men's individual all-around. yes, there goes the exhausting adage, we were there, as we tell our future grandchildren, to bear witness to the brilliance of kohei uchimura right before our eyes (one of the greatest gymnast ever, how cool is that?) at the O2 Centre. the three-time world champion maintained his composure and captured the Olympic gold medal that eluded him in Beijing. the action was unfolding live, our attention was divided with two to three gymnasts performing at the same time. we were enlightened. so this is how gymnastics tournaments work? we were doing maths through the giant scoreboard.

the volunteers were all too helpful and nice, almost saint-like. the spectator was catered and served. the home crowd were maybe too eager and patriotic (hey, which country doesn't want to conquer the world?). but it's their Olympics, their taxes, the repercussions are for the greater good.
it's not over yet, there is still the Paralympics. the time to re-visit the Olympic Village (i'll talk about handball in between screams and wails).

view from the setee

writing about sports has not only helped me out financially in the years gone by but it has also given me such tremendous joy since my childhood.  i could never be an athlete in terms of physique, drive or talent. nonetheless, i simply enjoy watching sports, live from the venues or merely on television, even on delayed telecast.

living in the city where the Olympics is currently held is great, the atmosphere is intoxicating, in addition to being able to relate with the nuances of the opening ceremonies. it was a mishmash of everything British. a few portions could have been deleted, to fast forward to the parade of participating countries and athletes which took forever. it will be all over by week's end but it has been a fabulous fortnight.

at the Olympic park 1

been having olympic fever since '84, i was 10. now 28 years later, i'm blogging at the Olympic Park in east London. a week and three days ago, i was able to catch the Torch relay at Wembley (pictured). it was a hot day, school's out, i had to fight my way around a hundred children in order to get a view.

the Torch guy was obscured but i got a tiny glimpse, the camera just didn't catch it.

to counter

 this article got me digging further into the gray matter. reading it carefully, the title is just a mask for the main purpose of the texts. women don't earn that much in sports because it's mostly men who follow and in my universe spent their hard-earned cash in dragging their butts to the ends of the earth just to watch grown men kick a football and the camaraderie derived hobnobbing with other enthusiasts.

but to go back to the write-up, just because the athletes the writer mostly write about are not in the top ten earners doesn't mean that those who made it to the list are not noteworthy. mayweather is maybe in jail but he promotes his own fights and fans pay extra on top of the cable tv bills to watch him pounce a winnable opponent. pacquiao was once dirt poor, i don't think there's something sinful with him helping his less fortunate constituents. tiger woods may not be luke donald but he is still the biggest name in golf. basketball as a sport may be called handball in England and their practitioners are referred to as freaks of nature but lebron james is a beautiful athlete to watch but then i spent my youth scrutinising the science of the dribble and the slam dunk. i've never have been ( and never will be) a federer fan, but tennis is one of those sports considerably covered by the wire services and the Swiss is popular worldwide.

corporate America pay good money to hire these athletes to endorse their brand. football or soccer, cricket, rugby et al do not have huge american audiences. Olympic sports such as swimming and track and field are only on the radar every four years hence usain bolt's low ranking. who cares about the colour of a person's skin or his nationality? why is that a big deal?

an athlete cannot be on top forever as well, gymnast shawn johnson is now retired at 20, after one Olympic games and a win in dancing with the stars. with the money, after every associate ( agents, PR guy, stylist, posse) gets their cut, the athlete is only left with an allowance ( but it's still bigger than most mortals). we've read and heard a lot of cautionary tales. hopefully manny pacquiao would do well after his stint on pay-per-view tv. i wonder if the likes of bing and others would still befriend him after he hang his gloves for good.

eddshrinker cup 3

24th June 2012
Paddington Recreation Ground

team Dicko -- 9
scorers :
jed -- 1
trev -- 1
chris -- 2
dicko -- 2
dan -- 2
jamie -- 1


team Dazza -- 5
jim --1
dazza -- 1 (penalty)
wayne -- 1
stubbsy -- 1
ben -- 1

eddshrinker cup 2 - penalty shoot out
eddshrinker cup 2
eddshrinker cup 1

post a label

not including today, i had an early morning snooze the past two days. it has become even more challenging to get out of bed, to stand up from a chair or even to take a 100 meters walk. the sun is shining at this juncture, maybe until the afternoon or whenever, not really that concerned. the stump of tiny feet from upstairs, is gone for a month to chill with the folks in good old former iron curtain or so i heard. it's quieter during the day. but they have friends move in temporarily, who also love to display their washing in public. as the hours are not exactly inundated with drizzles, let us see.

i want to do some heavy cleaning but it's next to impossible. i'll be trying out some recipes later. my birthday snack menu is still in the process of reckoning. some of my invitations are still with me, maybe by tomorrow i could distribute to the remaining invitees.

the summer solstice is already next week. the days would become shorter, the status quo of longer nights would fall back into place. our area is still on hosepipe ban. i'm hoping for abundance of rain during winter, to fill the water reservoir, stop the water companies from moaning too much. it's gloomy during winter but i'm hoping this year, the array of clothes would be sensational and lift up the spirits. from here until august though, in the topic of fashion, i guess Kate Moss is right (about summer-wear, not wife-wear).

now, let's check the BP and savour my newly- arrived Olympic tickets and travel cards.

on the 10th

so manny pacquiao lost in a split decision, his first defeat in seven years. since it was shown (or streamed) in such ungodly hour, UK time, it was a relief  i was asleep. i wonder if Bing was there in the ring (rhymes) during the introductions. enough of politicians and some Filipino slebs out there in Vegas, all smiles for the cameras at the after party, ready to display their clout, the i've been to Vegas i must be rich and important brigade ( i should really stop glancing at the society pages).

being a boxer is of course only one of pacman's many roles. he's a tv star and he serves his people as a congressman of saranggani. undertakings which are by-products of his being a boxer. he's got an entourage. i always wonder about men and their entourage or boys and their barkadas. as if their lives would be incomplete without their alalays. manny's rep is probably still intact, i saw some unofficial media score cards where he was ahead in almost all 12 rounds. there could be a rematch or he could just retire and conduct his daily prayer meetings in earnest.

 one-on-one sports (including chess and darts) are 50-50 propositions. an upset is part of the grand plan. but the pacquiao saga is also part of twitter race relations. i read (was it in March or April?) from Tyrone's (a mayweather fan) tweet that pacman has no defense and he's a so-so boxer. i don't want to bring stereotypes or how fast a person walks into the argument. but it's obviously there and we compete through our flags, national anthems, continents and shapes of our eyes.

hop, skip, hop

dropped by Westfield in Stratford for the cute guy's birthday. i like malls and shopping centres, as long as they're not crowded or deluged with strolling teens. the branch in Shepherd Bush is actually bigger and gives way to breathing. although, if we didn't go to Stratford, we wouldn't be able to peek at the Olympic Stadium and the Athletes Village. there would be loads of people during the Olympics. the tubes would be rammed, as in more jam-packed than during the rush hours or usual weekends.

 i'm just moaning because i don't live any closer to the Olympic grounds.

hurry, hurry rain

woke up early this morning, trawled the web, read this and that in the lifestyle pages of Philippine papers and basically went back to sleep.  i have stuff to do.  there are always stuff to do. and my blood sugar levels don't like sleep that much, i need to iron clothes and uniforms from the clean hamper box.  nevertheless, i  feel sleepy and tired.  who knows if it's going to rain or shine today, i still don't like clothes being hanged in front of the house (as dwellers upstairs do).  i think it's tacky.  at the back garden, go ahead (not having a back garden is no excuse). but in front? no.

 as i'm getting really older, we need to save enough money for a new abode.  the thfc friends and acquaintances are great.  who isn't happy and lighthearted in the company of friends? but they not only expensive, listening and reading their posts on a lot of issues in the forum sometimes, is desolating.  is blonde really more beautiful than all other hair color?  is the caucasian exterior the be all and end all of  beauty?  mostly the banter about team dominates talk and proceedings.  i guess for the hubby, it's better than staying home and catching it on the telly, like all other plastics.  my company is not that entertaining, or alluring.  but an away match specially, costs hard-earned cash and the eurozone is imploding right this very minute.  recession is not a nice word.

now, i have to check my BP and blood sugar.  hoping for good results.

discard

was trying to declutter last week and found a box full of old articles from almost ten years ago.  what am i doing keeping and hiding them under wraps and leaving to wither amid the mold and the ever-changing  room temperatures?  i hoard a lot of clippings, i just love to read stuff.  these files were accumulated during the years i didn't own a printer. quite ironic as the one we have now is not functioning, such a hassle when one has an essay to submit.  there are still a few boxes that are in dire need of  despoiling.  i had let go of Lebron James and Kobe Bryant articles, even Lee Young Pyo. and a GQ (was it Esquire?) cover of Kirsten Dunst.  i reckon, i may have also thrown away a Vogue cover of  Reese Witherspoon, it was a profile before she won an Oscar. i  wasn't too disappointed or cried a bucket of tears because of that, it's just a magazine.  i could chuck a few more periodicals in the bin, i just get distracted in taking a look back at the cool writings, that's all.

a loss is a win, is a win

it was a frustrating pacquiao match. he wasn't sharp with his hooks and forgot to connect with precise combinations. his movements were lethargic. but he won. his detractors were like swearing in unison and posting those annoying emoticons in their forums.

boxing is the most brutal of sport, imagine being punched to the head. in a boxer's career, it only takes one dynamic punch, one mind-numbing knockout by the opponent, a reputation is ruined for eternity.

with this latest debacle, oops triumph, kudos are given to the diaspora in my hemisphere for waking up early to see the match, for my brother up north, driving to gingging's (it rhymes) at the wee hours, for the hubby staying crazily up all night, claiming he's mental.  yeah, right.  he does this every pacquiao match, he got to support to something of mine, he says. let's take his word for it.

gridiron

maybe third's time a charm.
i've been trying to publish this post since yesterday and my blog press isn't working.

we had a few hours to spare with the NFL on Sunday. the game is quite different live than on telly. i rather like it on the small screen, the clock stoppages seem less annoying in the comfort of home. i particularly miss being entertained by the lively commentary as opposed to trying to decipher the cheerleaders from the nosebleed section.

awaiting pre-game

bears vs buccaneers
wembley stadium

the sun hurts

i was walking towards the tube station on this very sunny October and felt the pain and suffering of this kind of boiling hot temperatures. i'm all for good weather, maybe my sleepiness is due to tiredness. so i drifted off to sleep.

but oh dear, i've got to keep awake for the north London derby. its perplexing to encounter gooners in my circle. can we go through life knowing that they're gooners we simply stay away? avoid conversations, even eye contact or keeping them as Facebook friends? very possible. talk only when it's an utmost necessity. otherwise, better cool it. life would be more genial without those annoying comments.