Run with Eric [Search results for help] 

How is it that the break that I took ended up being more stressful than when I was working around the clock? Maybe it was the work that was keeping me going the whole time. I’m more exhausted now than I was a week ago at this same time. I thought that taking a break would have helped me deal with some deeply unsettling personal matters, but somehow it only helped to solidify my ever growing break with humanity and just how little I believe in it as a whole.

My desire to scream at everyone over their entitlement and privilege reached an all time high this week as on an almost continual basis all but a very tiny handful of friends and acquaintances found new way to let me down and depress me even further.

Without going into massive specifics – and I HATE even bringing this up in a public forum – due to circumstances beyond my control I don’t have a place to live for the next two weeks. If you want to know the story, ask me in person and I will tell you. It’s a clustercuss of ups and downs, a maze of paperwork, a load of idiocy on the parts of people you would think would be able to help (city, province, charities), but there is a solution in sight. It’s been going on for the past several weeks and again briefly at the beginning of the year, and it’s simultaneously embarrassing to talk about and hurtful for me to write about, especially since this isn’t the first time this has happened to me. It’s actually the second time in several years that I’ve had this rotten luck.

Again, this isn’t about the ones who try to or have helped. This is about those who can’t step outside themselves to just do anything for anyone other than themselves. And for those of you joining my life really late, both of my parents have been dead for over a decade now and I don’t have family to fall back on at all. Not even extended family. That is, unless you want to give me five grand to track them down and go to the States and find them, but honestly if you want to give me that much money to fly down there you could just as easily keep me here.

Now, I know that not everyone I know is capable of helping out when I need it or sheepishly ask, and even those who can help will only be able to do it to certain degrees based on means, availability, and comfort. I will never begrudge those who have already been there to help out wherever they could and so grateful and humbled. Some of them are close friends that have been around since the beginning and others are only casual friends with hearts made of pure gold. Some people just simply can’t and I totally get it. I could get into how some people are unable to grasp various degrees of what constitutes help (i.e. how it’s not all about just straight up giving me a place to crash for a night or two or a few dollars for something to eat), but that’s a different story.

My problem and something that I’ve become uniquely attuned to is that everyone around me seems to be blowing their money now more than ever on some of the dumbest shit imaginable. They are unable to help because they have lived so far beyond their means that they can’t even fathom what helping another human being is. I asked, again, embarrassingly, for $20 last Tuesday from two separate people, the use of which I will get back to in a second.

One of them said they couldn’t do it (or help with a place to sleep for even a couple of hours due to having a small apartment, which is more understandable), and yet they just came back from a trip to Florida and torment me still with pictures of their happy, lavish trip every day. The other similarly declined yet had bragged on Twitter two days earlier on donating $200 to the Kickstarter for the Veronica Mars movie.

That $20 would have gone to the following: a TTC day pass (the fares for which are one of the most overpriced things on the planet for return on service, but that’s another gripe) to get around since the weather was unremittingly shitty about and food for three days. By food for three days that means one McChicken from McDonalds every day for three straight days while eating nothing else. Wasn’t going to be the most glamorous $20 ever spent.

So what ended up happening that day was there was an ice and sleet storm. I started the day with $3 in my pocket which I had to spend to meet a friend to borrow $5. Then, when I left my friend the weather was even worse and I had to go to work I had to spend another $3 of that 5 to get back on the subway. This left me with $2. That same afternoon I see the friend who went on vacation eating in a really nice restaurant on Yonge Street. I wanted to go in and flip the table over. And this, contrary to what you might thing, was actually a closer friend to me than most.

So you might say, “But Andy, you have a job. Several, in fact! Several good jobs, even. How do you not have anything?” Good question. First off, as I stated in my last post, this was never a good paying a job and now more than ever I almost have to quit entirely and take a fast food gig just to get money fast. Don’t laugh, I’ve applied. I’ve also applied for assistance on various levels, but being a single male with no dependents and actual employment, you don’t qualify for anything. On top of that, I already put all the money I had and borrowed more into getting a new place that I can move into on May 1st. I absolutely couldn’t get anything sooner without paying out the ass for a temporary room in a shady, suspect place. So I have negative eighty dollars in my bank account as is, and as we all know, that’s a pretty bad spot to be in.

Second, in the past month I have had two paycheques bounce on me and one outlet just hasn’t paid me. Another outlet that pays me on a regular basis doesn’t pay until the end of the month (with all of last months getting spent on getting me out of this mess ASAP), and yet another is three months past due on paying me. Another outlet doesn’t pay until an article runs and I have nothing running for them until June. Finally, I don’t get any of the advance money for the book I’m working on until I can prove a certain amount of its done.

I’ve just grown fed up and I have no idea where exactly to go from this point on, but I know it shouldn’t be this difficult to turn to those who allegedly support you on a friendly level to help me. I’ve reached the point where the few people who can help me are stretched to the point where they just can’t do anything anymore. So if you see me or know how to contact me or care, just know that it’s reached the point where I have to make it public knowledge that things are shitty, just know that this is going on even if I haven’t brought it up to you directly and until the end of the month, know that I won’t turn down any help that I can get. Pretty desperate at this point just to get back on track. Also, I can’t spend another night sleeping at the airport since they caught on last night that I wasn’t actually flying anywhere. Today is literally (meaning the dictionary definition of “in the strictest sense”) the last day I have to come up with some sort of plan for the next two weeks. I have tried for the past seven days to do something on my own and nothing at all worked or panned out. There are sadly no more options other than looking like a complete and total bum.

So if you can offer any of the following, here’s the kickstarter I am willing to propose:

For a donation of any amount of money for food or transportation, I would be willing to pay it back as soon as I possibly can. It won’t be immediately. Admittedly, I am already in a small bit of debt from this ordeal already. BUT what I would be willing to do – for any loaning of money $20 or more - is to write you an original story on any topic of your choosing OR I will write about or review any movie you want me to review. This can also be claimed by anyone willing to cut out the middle man and buy me a TTC weekly pass for either this week or next OR anyone willing to offer me work space during the day.

If you want to buy me lunch, I will send you a PDF copy of my collection of short stories and essays from 5 years ago titled SLEEPLESS. Since the book was finished and published ages ago, you would think this would be a lesser offer, but I really can’t think of anything else equal to a lunch in terms of pricing that I could offer. Also, since part of my “get back on my feet” plan is to re-release this for this summer via eReaders, I can’t really just throw it around like I did the past couple of years.

For a donation of having me over for dinner, I will do the dishes and clean your kitchen for you. And by clean your kitchen I mean the basics. Counters, floors, a brief once over of the fridge. I’m not cleaning the oven… unless you want to pay for that. An extra $20 and I’ll clean the oven, but I would prefer not to. Last time I tried to clean my own oven I broke out in an allergic rash from the cleaning foam even while wearing gloves.

For an offer of a place to sleep for any amount of time, the donator will get the perks listed above as well as more general housework done. In addition, if the donator provides ingredients (or just gives me cash and trusts my taste, which given some of my reviews, you might not want to go that route), I will make a home cooked meal for the provider. I can cook. It’s a side of me no one else really sees. It’s a pretty special offer.

Any other offers (including work and commissions) can be discussed. As you can see, I am trying very hard to have a sense of humour about this, but I really just need something, anything to go right. And when some of your closest friends find ways to let you down (again, not all of them, you guys), what other options are left?

If you have any questions, chances are you know where to reach me.

Oh Daily Mail, obsessive-compulsive disorder is SO last year.

Of course, it doesn't bother me that there's another article in a mainstream national newspaper on OCD - far from it. I want to see the condition get as much coverage as possible so people actually understand it, instead of thinking, "Oh come on, how hard can it be to just have to wash your hands lots?"

The problem is that this is The Mail, and therefore any suggestion of respect is immediately going down the plughole with that soapy water. And indeed, they live up to form by making a complete hash of it.

My main issue with the piece is its conclusion. Personally, I think some progress can be made without professional consultation, but anyone with any OCD knowhow, professional or otherwise, would always say: see someone first. It's not an easy battle, and you'd be a fool to dismiss it entirely as a matter of willpower. Get help, then try to defeat it.

The article concludes:

The experts might say that you can't cure it yourself, but I'm living proof that you can.

I'm casting a lot of aspersions here - look, there they go, fluttering into the sunset - but it is an absolute certainty that some OCD sufferers will, as a consequence of reading this article, try to handle the condition entirely by themselves, without any help, and that is the wrong thing to do. It's something you need to conquer personally, no doubt about it; but turning down help is just stupid.

So what else bothers me about the article? Well, it's slightly uncomfortable reading some of the supposed diary extracts, not because they're disgusting or because the truth is too horrible to bear, but because it's a woman baring all in the worst way possible - smiling to the cameras. Or in this case: weeping with a smile in her eye.

My point is that parts of the article are discomfortingly pity-seeking. The writer becomes the martyr. I'm all for a writer with OCD revealing her inner battles and just how low the condition makes her feel, and in that sense the diary format makes sense, but it repeatedly collapses into wanton melodrama.

Now I don't think this is necessarily the writer's fault; I think it's the editor's. Either the writer is exploiting her own condition for sympathy's sake or the Mail's exploiting her. I think the latter is more likely. Having been in similar positions (I turned down an offer to appear in a trashy woman's weekly because I would have been made into a sideshow freak), I can see how a brutally honest but reserved piece was mutated like Frankenstein's creature into a stumbling monster of gruesome soundbites and misunderstood intentions. I can see the e-mail now, asking the poor writer to "spice it up". I can see the subeditors battling over a headline - "'Obsessive Compulsive Disaster', brilliant". And I can see the writer in tears over its treatment.

Or - equally possible - she's fine with it, it's a decent exposé and I'm just jealous at having my spacky thunder stolen (not true, I'm afraid). But to be fair, I genuinely do want to see obsessive-compulsive disorder in the press as much as possible.

Just not like this.

Over the last several months, I've been struggling with an issue with my achilles... what I fear is the beginning of tendonitis. This is something I haven't mentioned before primarily because if I did it might become real and I would have to stop ignoring it.

Somehow with the help of a lot of ibuprofen, stretching and ice I managed to get through the preparation for both Oceanside and Wildflower without too many problems. After Wildflower, I took a couple easy weeks which I thought would help. But when I tried to ramp my running back up in late May, it became clear to me that I couldn't ignore it any longer. Waking up nearly unable to walk was a good signal that I needed to take some steps to address the issue before I did some serious damage.

It's been over two weeks since I've run a step, the longest break from running I've taken in nearly 3 years. I'm also getting regular ART treatments to help loosen my calves and am stretching a lot. The pain upon waking up is gone, though both tendons are still a little tender to the touch.

As much as it pains me to stay off the roads, I'm going another 2 weeks before attempting to run.

In the meantime, I'm staying fit with some time in the pool, on the bike (making a point to avoid excessive dorsiflexion), and the elliptical trainer. I'm also taking advantage of the forced off-season to work on an area of fitness that I've long neglected - strength training.

Key areas of focus:
Core strength
Leg strength and power

my basic routine (either done with kettlebells at home or with free weights at the gym)

• squats (quads, glutes, hamstrings as well as core stabilizing muscles in abs and lower back)
  
• hang cleans (quads, lower back, deltoids, biceps, traps, calves)
• deadlift (lower back, hamstrings)
• pushups (chest, triceps and core stabilizers)
  
• lat pulldowns or pullups (lats, biceps)
  
• planks (prone and both sides) (abs, obliques, back)
  
• swiss ball crunches (abs, obliques)
  

I'm really enjoying the change in routine... and I'll tell you what. If you don't think weight lifting gets the heart rate up, do a set of hang cleans. Those suckers are tough.

British politics has been very interesting this week. Even with a Cold War possibly starting thanks to the antics of Russia and Georgia, there's plenty happening at home to get the political pulse racing, or at least beating.

You may be wondering why I am steadfastly not writing about the Russia/Georgia situation, and the simple reason is that I don't know enough about the situation to comment without revealing my ignorance (please, no "that's never stopped you before" comments). Even after analysing the situation my conclusions are along the lines of "Naughty Ruskis" and "Silly Georgians", and that's the kind of political comment that helps nobody (Simon Heffer, take note).

But what I do have on offer for you is a hat-trick of opinions on British political stories this week, with some American election-spotting on the side for good measure.

Never say I don't spoil you.

Tories vs. Fatties
Let's talk about sex, baby
History lessons go back to black
The female of the species
Every little helps

Put down the pie, fatty, and listen up. If you are overweight or obese, you have nobody to blame but yourself. Not Bernard Matthews, not Colonel Sanders – it's YOUR fault you break the scales. Yours. Now get out of my sight and make a salad, chubbles.

This, as every reporter will tell you, is the gist of the Conservative Party's caring new approach to public health, outlined by the shadow health secretary Andrew Lansley last Wednesday. His speech to the think tank Reform, entitled No Excuses, No Nannying, attacked people’s failure to take responsibility for their self-inflicted health problems, claiming, "Tell people that biology and the environment cause obesity and they are offered the one thing we have to avoid: an excuse." Basically, the Tories are telling the overweight they have only themselves to blame.

What Lansley said is actually a little more complex than that. He unveiled proposals to fight obesity that include role models promoting healthy lifestyles, a clampdown on food advertising and asking the food industry to reduce portion sizes. Blimey, hold on to your seat – them's some radical ideas.

Not so much an unveiling as a shy reminder, then. The Tories haven't suggested anything new here, and it's not hard to see why the Government's health secretary Alan Johnson condemned them, saying, "Andrew Lansley is proposing to do nothing that isn't being done already and saying nothing that hasn't been said before." Still, the LibDems probably got carried away in saying the Tories just want to blame people for their obesity because they haven't got any ideas on how to tackle it. That's silly talk. Besides, the Tories are right: people should take responsibility for their weight and stop blaming external influences.

It is true that we live in an irresponsible compensation culture where nothing is anybody's fault (except paedophiles, who don't get to defend themselves). "Don't blame me – I'm only a monster because society made me that way." "It's not my fault I had a bad upbringing." "Jesus told me to rob that bank." We are constantly led to believe that we are all guided by social or even astrological forces beyond our control, that if you were born on the wrong side of the tracks then dealing crack to abusive teenage mothers is understandable and therefore permissible, and that anyone who actually blames someone for doing something wrong is a fascist – or in this scenario, a fattist.

Fat people cannot help being fat, we are told. But here’s the thing: most of them can. If there is a genuine medical reason for an individual’s obesity (e.g. glandular problems, physical disability etc.) and they literally have no option but to pile

on the pounds, then it's entirely reasonable to say, "They can't help it." But that's not the general argument; instead, we are made to believe that obesity isn't a lifestyle choice but an unfortunate affliction targeting the weak. There's just so much advertising for junk food, you see. And it tastes so nice. Oh, these poor, poor sufferers of the overeating disease. Does lack of willpower count as a vitamin deficiency?

Forgive me for being aggressive, but obesity is not caused by availability. Just because you can buy a tasty but sickeningly unhealthy burger for a couple of quid doesn’t mean you are contractually obliged to, in the same way that you can buy gallons of cider with loose change but you don’t have to drink it all in one go and become an alcoholic. It is a question of having some self-control. You can be flabby and still have a backbone.

The Tories' plans don't recommend anything new or useful, and should be disregarded for being largely pointless. But at least they don't protect gutless gluttons, who need to take the blame for their mistakes. It may not be easy for chronic overeaters, but at the end of the day, humble pie is still pie.

MPs are appealing to the Government to provide sex education as early as the beginning of primary school, meaning pupils would learn about the birds and the bees from the age of four.

It's easy to strip a complex suggestion down into headline-hitting hysteria – look, I did it just there and I'm not even a national broadsheet newspaper – but this plan is still concerning. The sexualisation of young children is becoming ever-worrying, and teaching them about relationships before they can even spell 'relationships' is a dodgy prospect. How sexual will this sex education be at that age? We don't know. It may just be a case of "Have you noticed how you like Mary in a different way to how you like John?" (or not, as the case may be), but until that is made clear, we have reason to be suspicious. Call me old-fashioned, but a) kids should arguably learn about relationships and sex from their parents or guardians rather than their teachers and b) they should definitely be able to tie their own shoelaces by that time.

Let it be stricken from the record that at the age of 21 I am really bad at tying my shoelaces.

There is also, I feel, insufficient evidence to suggest sex education at such an early will cut down on the unwanted teenage pregnancies that are plaguing Britain and precipitating such reactionary legislation. Hitting the problem early is always a good thing, but I can't see explanations of relationships to an infant preventing him from making a mistake many years later. One fear is that girls are beginning to have periods without knowing properly what to expect, but again, it's very unusual for that bodily change to occur before the age of 9 or 10, say, which would be a reasonable time for sex education to begin.

I just don't think this legislation would solve any problems, and I do believe it might taint the innocence of millions of young children. Colour me sceptical.

But for every absurd educational reform there's a decent one (that's probably not an official statistic), and it's definitely good news that the slave trade and the British empire are to become compulsory subjects in History lessons.

Pupils between the ages of 11 and 14 – meaning pre-GCSE students, forced in nearly all schools to take History for three years – will be taught about the likes of William Wilberforce and Olaudah Equiano and their roles in the abolition of the British slave trade (and to think, they could just watch Amazing Grace or read this blog and follow the Wikipedia links). The fall of the empire will also be dissected and the progression of civil rights for African-Americans most likely thrown into the mix as well.

It's an encouraging development for three reasons. Most obviously and most importantly, it will teach children about a massive part of Britain's history hitherto ignored by school syllabus-makers. Secondly, it shows a willingness to admit and discuss the embarrassing faults of our ancestors, rather than pretending they didn't happen and focusing instead on national triumphs such as Waterloo, the Battle of Britain and the removal of Margaret Thatcher from power. Finally and most thrillingly of all, it will end the domination of Germany, the world wars and the Holocaust over History lesson timetables.

My only concern is the idea that schoolchildren will learn about the slave trade "to help them understand modern-day issues such as immigration." Given the disgusting popularity of people having right-wing leanings these days, I wouldn't be too surprised if 'helping children to understand immigration' means 'helping children to understand that immigrants are all mass-murdering rapists'.

Still, that's just my cynicism kicking into overdrive. It's about time British kids knew the truth about slavery, before they start thinking that Sepp Blatter and Cristiano Ronaldo know what they're talking about.

John McCain may be an idiot, but he knows American politics. He's covered up his own inadequacies by focusing on Obama's supposed inexperience, he's guaranteed himself favourable press coverage by allowing plenty of exposure for most of his career and he

purposefully upset the Democratic hoedown by infiltrating their Denver conference with high-profile Republican speakers. And now, amid claims he's too old and doesn't appeal to the more simple-minded female voters as much as Barack 'Nice Smile' Obama, he has chosen a woman, Sarah Palin, Governor of Alaska, for his running mate and potential Vice-President. Shrewd.

It is, of course, reductive and even insulting to suggest McCain will receive more of the female vote than he would otherwise just by having a female running mate. But that's how it works. A level of 'one of us' affects every voter to an extent – black or white, rich or poor, male or female. Having a Hispanic running mate would secure McCain the Hispanic vote. Having a ginger running mate would secure the ginger vote. And having a female running mate is likely to secure him more of the female vote. Sorry.

Palin may also win McCain the Youth vote (she's 44), the Proud Mothers Unite vote (5 children, one with Down's Syndrome) and the Anti-Abortion vote (5 children, one with Down's Syndrome), although admittedly McCain already had that one sewn up. We also shouldn't underestimate the popular vote from Stupid Men Who Don't Care About Politics But Know A Pretty Face When They See One ('masturbatory voters', as they are known): Palin looks incredible for a woman who's given birth to five children and certainly generates more interest in the pants department than Hillary Clinton.

Palin was not as much of a no-brainer choice as she may seem though. McCain's most stringent and resounding criticism of Barack Obama is that he is inexperienced and not ready to govern America. Unsurprisingly given that he's 72 himself, McCain is playing the experience card very highly. Then he goes and chooses a running mate who has been in office for less than two years. Clearly the idea is to inject some youth and excitement into, well, the Republican party, and diversity and shoring up your own weaknesses is a major part of picking a running mate – hence why Obama chose Joe Biden, a famously experienced politician into his sixth term in the Senate. Picking Sarah Palin is at best a risky move and at worse blatant hypocrisy, but it is, of course, difficult for Obama to pick up on because any attack on her pedigree indirectly leads to doubts over his own.

It is always controversial to 'take the man, not the ball' and focus on a person rather than their politics. It is doubly controversial when that person is a woman, because you are accused of rampant sexism. But in American politics is hard to consider it any other way, because even when you are picking a future Vice-President you are picking personality rather than policy. The running mate is a means to an end; someone to help you to get into the hot seat, not share it with you when you're there. John McCain himself has repeatedly said the vice-presidency amounts to little more than "attending funerals and checking on the health of the President", so we probably shouldn't believe him too readily when he says he wants to work closely with her in the White House. She's his ticket there; not his bedfellow.

And it might just work. Palin will attract some of the disenchanted Hillary supporters from the Democratic camp, who don't need much persuading – many are of the 'Hillary 12' crowd, keen for Obama to lose the election so Mrs Clinton can take over after winning the next one. The idea of wanting your party to lose is, I think, inexplicable, but there you go. Palin's appointment is also helping the Republican party to provide a more united front than the Democrats are doing at the moment, thanks to Clinton & Co (though they have triggered one of the best acronyms in recent political history: Party Unity My Ass).

The sad truth is that John McCain is probably going to win this election. Seeing how he and Sarah Palin cope will be interesting. Personally, I'd have preferred Michael Palin. Now THAT would be a story.

Victory for pedants everywhere.

Just noticed this on the BBC about the race for countries wanting to host the 2018 Football World Cup. I have one main concern with the proposed host nations. Who?

It's encouraging - very encouraging - that smaller nations are striving to host such a major event. Ambitious building projects bring in capital, the country improves etc. etc. Basically, hosting the World Cup energises the country in exactly the way hosting the Olympics does not.

However, it seems to be getting less about the football.

Eyebrows were raised when the USA hosted the global tournament in 1994 because their chances of passing the group stages were slim, effectively killing any local atmosphere for the more interesting knockout stages (it also didn't help when an unnamed American expert said 'soccer' was the fourth-most popular sport in the country after baseball, basketball, American football and ice hockey - add that one up). To be fair, the USA got to the last 16 - i.e. the second round - before losing only 1-0 to eventual winners Brazil, but fans the world over were still far from convinced with the country's supposed love for the sport.

Eyebrows were raised yet further, somewhere into the fringe, when the 2002 World Cup was offered to South Korea and Japan, but again a surprise was in store: joint hosts South Korea reached the semi-finals, beating Portugal, Spain and Italy on the way. Fair play - but two goals in five and a half hours of football in the knockout stages showed their lack of real talent. Sorry, but that's the way it is.

Still people remain unconvinced by smaller footballing nations hosting the World Cup and yes, I am in that category (uh, in that I'm unconvinced, not a small footballing nation).

Now we have Qatar and Indonesia wanting to host the 2018 World Cup. Neither has competed in the tournament ever before, although Indonesia technically did in 1938 when they were the classed as the Dutch East Indies. A rich footballing history there, then.

Qatar, meanwhile, has a population of only 1.3 million and will struggle to persuade players to play in a sweltering Arab desert in the middle of summer. Even the proposed underground stadium - an admittedly cool idea (pardon the pun) - will only host 11,000 fans. That's just not feasible.

(Khalifa Stadium's nice though.)

And yes, Japan, South Korea and the USA are all bidding again. God help us.

Of course it would be short-sighted to suggest only the best of the best footballing nations should host the World Cup. It is important to give these smaller teams the chance to improve their sporting prowess as well as their infrastucture (look at the Italian rugby team improving since the Six Nations). But surely one prerequisite should be that they're good at football. What's the point letting Indonesia host the tournament if they're just going to be humiliated in every match?

It is no longer about the football. It's about the money. Good for a country's infrastructure and development, yes, but not so much for fans all over the world.

Shame.

Changes in life, however small, can make you think quite deeply. New purchases can help us to take on fresh challenges, do new things and achieve our dreams. They can draw a line in the sand between the old and the new; the past and the present; the present and the future. They can represent a new you, or help you to develop the old one.

And I can write this on my new laptop in half the time it usually takes because Microsoft Word isn't crashing every few sentences.

An Impolite Police (Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love To Rant)
Bye Bye Beijing - Time for a Whole Lotta London
Here Comes the Science
Tories and YouTubers in 'Sense of Humour Failure' Shocker
Picture Puzzle: Another Prick In The Wall

Forgive me while I go a bit Daily Express "It's a bloody outrage" on you, but I find myself increasingly disturbed upon hearing about policemen and women abusing their authority. I'm not talking about inside men on bank heists or anything – this isn't The Bill – but minor violations of the law committed for no reason. They show there are a lot of officers who feel that because they wear a police badge they can do whatever the hell they want.

This week I read that a man was arrested for taking a photo of a policeman who had driven through a 'no entry' sign (well, not literally, but you know what I mean). Andrew Carter generously pointed out the officer's mistake, to which PC Aqil Farooq responded, "F*ck off, this is police business." Carter took a photo of the van and its driver, and Farooq, suddenly abandoning whatever business he had in the Bristol chip shop that was so important he could ignore road signs, ran out and knocked the camera from his hand. He then arrested Carter for being drunk and disorderly, resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law (none of which happened). Carter was handcuffed, had his fingerprints taken, was forced to give a DNA sample and spent five hours in gaol before being released on bail.

Somewhat defeating the object of opinion-writing journalism, I don't have much to say about this story, except that it makes me very angry. Yes, I know that most police officers aren’t like Farooq and that it's just an isolated incident blown up by a self-righteous alarmist press etc. etc., but I'm firmly of the opinion that anyone in a responsible public position – be they a politician or a lowly policeman – should have to pay the consequences for any deliberate misdeeds made on duty. Everyone makes mistakes, sure, but this wasn't a mistake. It was deliberate false arrest and wrongful imprisonment. Farooq showed that he was making a mockery of his job and, quite simply, should have been sacked.

Instead, he was made to apologise in person to Andrew Carter. Well, that’s all right then. Let bygones be bygones, let water pass under the bridge and let Farooq do it again to some other poor unsuspecting sod. Because he hasn't learnt his lesson. Why would he have done?

I've never liked the idea of having to apologise to someone being a punishment. When you're a child, maybe. But when you're an adult committing a professional crime, it's not quite enough, somehow. Farooq's boss also said, "he acknowledged what he did was wrong", which is taken straight out of the mouth of a chiding parent.

Pathetic. Sorry, is that not tabloid enough? It sickens me to the very core. That's better.

It's not often I agree with an idea suggested in a letter to The Daily Telegraph. I do enjoy reading them, usually for the terrified paranoia that Britain is going to be invaded by immigrant criminals at the behest of port-swilling Brussels bureaucrats (or the glum acceptance that it's already happened), but rarely do I agree with anything they're saying.

But one reader proposed that, if the British Government is so desperate for London 2012 Olympics money (and it is), it should make use of the fervour currently sweeping the nation and ask for voluntary donations to the fund. Good idea.

The public will have to put up some money anyway, and possibly for a long time afterward: Montreal hosted the Olympics in 1976, and Quebecian taxpayers were still paying for the main stadium, 'The Big O(we)', in December 2006 – more than 30 years later. Since no one likes taxes, raising them nearer the time to pay for the Olympics will make whomsoever is running the country by then very unpopular. It makes sense to ask for some of that money now, rather than demand it later. You may mock, but people have got carried away in the excitement of it all, especially since this British success has come as such a surprise (doesn't it always?). Ask the public to put its money where its mouth is and while it's still agape with shock, cash should come flowing out. Well, some will anyway; I'm not expecting millions to miraculously materialise overnight. But you never know.

The Beijing Olympics have, after all, provided an incredible spectacle. It takes some effort to sweep human rights abuses and some of the highest levels of air pollution in the developed world under the red carpet but by gum, they managed it (Chinese efficiency, you see). The opening ceremony stunned everyone into silence – even nine-year-old Lin Miaoke, who was meant to be singing – and the athletes did their bit too. I can even forgive Usain Bolt for being only two months older than me, because he's my kind of athlete. It's been a literally marvellous showcase of sport and athletics performed by competitors at the peak of their powers – exactly how the Olympics should be.

And most importantly for Britain in these crucial Games, we've done pretty well. 47 medals including 19 golds, placing Team GB 4th in the medals table, has shown that we'll be ready even if our stadiums won't. Cycling, sailing, rowing: it just goes to show that if we plucky Brits put our mind to it, we can be worldbeaters... as long as we're allowed to sit down.

And the British people want a great London Olympics. They're feeling inspired, but in all likelihood, most of them are too lazy to go down the gym or get the bike out of the garage; why not exploit their nationalistic euphoria by relieving them of their money and make them feel like they're contributing?

(Since you ask: no, I won't be paying anything.)

I did find it interesting, though, to hear that Led Zeppelin had to change the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love, which was performed at the handover ceremony on Sunday. Apparently "I'm gonna give you every inch of my love" is a bit risqué. It makes sense, perhaps, to change the line to "every bit of my love" – especially since Leona Lewis was singing it and, well, being a woman she doesn't have any inches to speak of – but it did remind me a bit of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' appearance on The Simpsons:

"The network has a problem with some of your lyrics. Do you mind changing them for the show?"

"Our lyrics are like our children, man – no way."

"OK, but here where it says, 'What I got you gotta get and put it in ya', how about just, 'What I'd like is I'd like to hug and kiss ya'?"

"Wow, that's much better. Everyone can enjoy that."

Personally, I find it ironic that in a celebration of Britain's emerging young talent, the music was provided by aged rockers reforming after nearly 30 years. Still, at least they're brilliant. It could so easily have been Take That.

One of my bête noirs – the one that isn't pretentious use of French – is scientists coming up with utterly useless discoveries.

Sometimes they're already obvious, sometimes they're just completely inapplicable to anything and sometimes they're both, but they happen all the time. If it's not a geneticist declaring that black parents have black children, it's a behavioural analyst claiming that people who had a happy childhood are more socially able than those who spent their formative years crying in a box. One case that irritated me last year was a study erroneously and irresponsibly claiming that pupils born later in the school year do "significantly worse" than those born up to a year earlier. My vitriol on that report has already been spent here.

Now Dr Will Brown has 'discovered' that men find "shorter, slimmer females with long slender legs, a curvy figure and larger breasts" most physically attractive. Well... obviously.

What is the point in dedicating time and money to this study? Even if the report has a scientific revelation somewhere (and I'm not sure it does), surely there is little merit in its results because everybody already knew them. It's so stupid. You get the feeling, too, that he would have found this out a lot quicker just by observing life had he not spent his in the lab.

The study also found that people prefer symmetry in a face, defusing the argument that "Everyone loves a face with character" (a character with a face, that's what you want). Again, we know this. And what exactly can you do as a result of these findings anyway? Get a face transplant? New body dimensions? Why would a scientist bother wasting his intelligence on investigating such a pointless issue?

It's not easy to make this argument as someone who wants to write for a living. After all, what am I doing to change the world? Would it be fair for me to say that anyone who commits themselves to a life of research should make sure it's cancer-related? No. But their research could at least be useful. And I personally don't believe that, when he was studying, Dr Will Brown dreamt he could one day blow apart the myth that most men are physically attracted to tall women with broad shoulders and no breasts. All we can do is hope that these people look inside themselves and use their experience more responsibly.

But I'm not hopeful. "In his next study, Dr Brown plans to prove how attractively tall men with short legs are able to dance."

WHY?

You can, of course, take the 'time and money' argument too far, as the Conservative Party did this week. I don't know if it was them personally or the Official Opposition line that has to be taken on things like this, but it did not endear me to Cameron & Co. in the slightest.

The Government recently released a short video response to the online petition asking for Jeremy Clarkson to become Prime Minister. Watch it here. It's less than a minute long and seems to have been made with a handheld video camera and Microsoft PowerPoint. No10 themselves admitted, "A member of staff put it together in a spare half-hour."

And what's the Tories' response? "While the British public is having to tighten its belt the Government is spending taxpayers' money on a completely frivolous project. This shows how detached the Labour Party has become from the concerns of the British people."

They're not alone. Some of the many angry YouTube comments include "waste of tax money" and "why are they using my money to make youtube videos?"

Surely this is some sort of joke? How much money can that video have cost? And isn't it good that the Government should try to cheer up a despondent public in the middle of a recession? Even if you'd rather politicians stuck to business, it would be insane to claim this is betraying the taxpayer. But that's what the Conservative Party is doing.

Grow up and get a sense of humour.

A fantastic action photo from England's 2-2 draw with the Czech Republic prompted me to think about its deeper meaning. Look closely at the England players in a wall and see what you can learn from their reactions to the free kick being taken. You may see more than you think.

(With thanks to Action Images, WNSL and The Daily Telegraph)

From right to left:

Beckham - distant from the rest, he looks on with barely feigned interest from his safe spot in America/at the far end of the wall. Also stupid enough not to know where his balls are.

Barry - trying hard but looks uneasy not in the middle and has Lampard and Gerrard standing in the way of a link-up with Rooney.

Lampard - wrestling for space with Gerrard and Barry. Higher than the rest but for how long?

Gerrard - holding his breath. So are we, Stevie.

Rooney - ugly bastard.

Ashley Cole - not the face. Or the balls - I need those for, uh, Cheryl. Jump? What do you mean, jump?

Yesterday, I had the good fortune of attending a swim clinic that my tri club puts on. While I have been swimming a long time and have had a lot of coaching over the years, its always good to get a refresher on some things and new hints and tips.

Here are some of the key takeaways that I left with and that I thought were worthwhile to share:

Keep your kick tight. Its important to keep your kick 'small' and your feet in the shadow of your upper body while swimming. Big kicks simply create drag. Start the kick from your hips and keep your legs loose through the knees and ankles. No straight-leg kicking. If you're splashing water, you're kicking air.

Your forearm is your paddle. Keep your elbow high during the catch and try to keep your hand and forearm on one plane as you pull through the water. Using a 'fist' drill (swimming with your fists clenched), will help you to get the motion down.

High elbows during recovery. Point your elbows high as you bring your arms forward to help maximize body rotation through the shoulders and hips.

The kick is for balance, not propulsion. For long-distance freestyle, don't over-emphasize your kicking. Sprinting of course, is a different story... but all triathlon swimming is long-distance free.

Your hips create power. Rotate your hips as you pull. If you're pulling with your right hand, you should be rotating your right hip away from the bottom of the pool simultaneously. As you hand crosses past your hip, your hips should be fully rotated.

Have fun in the pool!

Now this is a good effort. OK, so he comes from Norwich and there's nothing better to do there, but gaining all the scout badges at the age of 10 is some achievement.

I'm not a big personal fan of the scouts myself, having dropped out as soon as I hit cubs (not much younger than this kid, then, but without a badge to my name), and I certainly don't see it as the all-important national institutuon it seems to be. Also, the myth that scouts all over the world are the innocent, God-fearing asexual kind that help little old ladies across the street is one that perhaps needs dispelling, or at least contextualising: I met them when Chelmsford hosted the World Scout Jamboree last year and to cut a long story short, most of them were chasing the busty girlscouts from Sweden and some were throwing knives at each other.

Still, as a concept the scouts are a good way to teach young children such practical tasks as, uh, skating. I do think the scouts should continue in a similar vein to the way they do now, albeit perhaps more secular (with the sex discrimination of Scouts vs. Brownies gone, we can probably drop the badge in 'my faith', can't we?). So yes, keep the scouts. But...

Are the badge categories still appropriate? They've moved smoothly from the whole 'surviving in the wilderness' focus to something more general, which is not all that odd, and they've adapted to the modern world quite well with badges in global conservation and martial arts and the like.

A lot of the badges, however, are very strange. 'Air activities'? 'Entertainer'? 'Communication'? That's a university degree, isn't it?

Since we've got a brigade of scouts dying to be useful, let's use them. It's probably time to drop some of the less useful and irrelevant badges. In a way, that suggests a return to the traditional ways as much as the newer ones - the new record holder Ben Spratling liked most the good old 'adventure' badge because he felt he could help people in an emergency.

And you can't get much more useful than that.

We've already had the discussion – well, my excuses – about why this blog sometimes reaches extreme length, so I won't go into it again. Suffice to say that it's fairly long again today. But I did find, in writing the opening piece about Tory sleaze, that sometimes you don't need to say much to convey a point. Readers are generally bright enough to work out a lot for themselves. I will have to bear this in mind in future. It'll save us all a bit of time.

Same Old (S)Tory
Strictly Come Goosestepping
'Arry Spurs on Tottenham
The leopard changes his spots
Police warned of race concerns

Some things never change in politics. At this stage of a post I would normally say that the fall-out of the situation involving George Osborne and Russian businessmen has been interesting, but it hasn't, really, because we've seen it all before.

i) Accusations of Tory sleaze

ii) Labour attacking them for said accusations of Tory sleaze, with appropriate response

iii) The Tories swiftly changing the subject (and, in a fitting tribute to the everlasting stasis of British politics, changing it to the matter of bureaucracy and excess in the civil service – Yes Minister lives on)

iv) A question of right-wing media bias (why would The Daily Telegraph print and drag out this complete non-story of Osborne using a budget airline other than to make him look better?)

v) The public calling for the offender's head...

vi)... and only getting a piece of it

Stop me if you've heard this one before.

The BBC has been 'rocked' by complaints from, uh, people on its messageboard saying that Strictly Come Dancing's public vote is racist.

It's PC gone mad, I tell ye!*

The BBC claims it has not received any formal complaints about the programme, but the Olympic sprinter (and part-time spokesman for the black community, it would seem) John Regis has spoken out after Heather Small, singer in M People, and Don Warrington, star of Rising Damp and a personal hero of mine, came bottom in the vote, and Warrington was voted off the programme. "It is not like sport, when it's down to performance," said Regis. "Other factors come into play. Strictly is a middle-class kind of show and that possibly could be the area where racism still festers. I feel sorry for Don" (but not Heather Small, apparently – maybe she just really can't dance).

I personally have the impression that Don Warrington would be an excellent ballroom dancer, if only because he has that aristocratic air about him in his acting. Say what you like about actors – they do have natural rhythm.

Whether most of the kind of people who vote on Strictly Come Dancing are racist is a matter known only to God and themselves (and, worryingly, usually not even themselves). One thing is for sure, though: the claim made by John Regis and others is possibly the hardest thing in the world to prove. People's motives aren't questioned on phone-in votes, and if they were I don't think it would help. It's hard enough to get right-wing Texan hillbillies to admit they hate Barack Obama because he's black; try getting an admission of racism from middle-class coffin-dodgers with a paranoid sense of victimhood.

Also, there are no analytical means of measuring this wrongful dismissal, such as it is. Supposedly the show's judges decided Warrington and Small's separate performances were better than those of the three white celebrities competing against them, but is that really enough to accuse the public of racism? Colin Jackson was runner-up a few years ago, and last year's winner Alesha Dixon is mixed-race. This vote could just be a coincidence, or a crap idea of what constitutes good dancing. Who knows? And given that it's Strictly Come Dancing, who even cares?

Actually, I care. Racism is bad. But good luck proving this is an example of it.

*Please, please realise I'm joking. I would never use this phrase with any kind of sincerity.

So, Juande Ramos is gone – and Gus Poyet, and Marcos Alvarez, and Damien Comolli – and Harry Redknapp is in charge of Tottenham Hotspur FC. It's perhaps a bit late for his wheeler-dealer antics to be of much help now, at least until the transfer window reopens, but Spurs will be desperate for anything at the moment, and in 'Arry, they've not gone far wrong.

His appointment's worked already, with Spurs claiming a 2-0 victory over Bolton – their first win of the season, and one that brings the team more points than they

got from the past eight games. Admittedly this wasn't really anything directly to do with Redknapp, since the team was picked by development squad coach Clive Allen, but the catalyst was there for a team knowing now that there's a future. That goes for the fans, too: Redknapp received a fantastic reception.

Tottenham's decline has been nothing short of incredible. Just look at the change in forwards. It takes some effort to move in a couple of years from a choice of Berbatov, Defoe, Robbie Keane and an on-form Mido to having a tired and unsettled Pavlyuchenko, 21-year-old Fraizer Campbell on loan from Manchester United as compensation for the Berbatov transfer (appalling business sense from Spurs) and, well, Darren Bent. It's been tragedy for the fans; comedy for everyone else.

Even so, though, I wasn't sure about The Guardian's coverage of the club's decline – printing an entire page of jokes at Spurs' expense. One or two in a box, maybe, or even a mini-feature in a side bar, but a whole page on Page 3 of the Sport section dedicated to jokes? A tad lazy in my view.

The Redknapp era should bring prosperity for Tottenham, but the task for now is clearly to avoid relegation. I think it will happen, and with a degree of ease (I predict 15th). But I am left wondering why he took the job on. He has said it's an opportunity to manage a big club before retirement, but Portsmouth are a big club – thanks to him. He's taken Pompey from the old Division 1 to being regular candidates for the top 6 and FA Cup winners. Why go to Spurs?

I guess he needs a new challenge. He's definitely found one.

People are often surprised by my opposition towards tattoos – not towards people having them, but the idea of having one myself. I don't know why they're surprised: maybe with my long hair and beard, I look like the kind of guy who should have questionable life codes inked into his arm. But I don't, and, like many, I simply do not understand what would bring someone to do this to him- or herself. What is wrong with these people?

Anyway, bottom on that list is the Leopard Man of Skye, previously the most tattooed man in the world, and he's moving house. No big story there, you might feel, but this is a man who hasn't really lived in a house for quite some time. He has spent the last 20 years living in a makeshift cabin with plastic sheeting for a roof, no electricity or furniture and requiring a three-mile canoe trip for his shopping. But at the age of 73, he has decided he is "getting too old for that kind of life" and has moved into a one-bed house.

Clearly he's not THAT much of a nutter then. But it is interesting that he has managed to afford this house. He must have had money stashed away during his days of being a hermit

A solution to surviving the recession, perhaps?

... and the Award for the Most Misleading Headline of the Week, which I should really make a regular feature, goes to the BBC. When I read the above headline, and found it was one of the most popular stories on the news site, I was expecting it to have more to do with accusations of racism levelled against Ian Blair or whoever his successor is.

But no, it's about the Original Mountain Marathon in the Lake District, which saw hundreds of people stranded by flooding and torrential rain. Which is a completely different story. Never mind.

(If you're wondering, the best misleading headline ever was in The Metro just last month. When Helen Mirren admitted to having done drugs in the past, the London paper led with THE QUEEN: I DID COCAINE. Now, that's just not true, is it? Attention-grabbing, though, I must admit.)

Damn, even without having to go very far, getting ready for this race required a very early wakeup call. Since I was catching a ride with my sister-in-law, who was volunteering and had to be at the transition area at 4:30, my alarm went off at the unholy hour of 3am. Ouch. I should have driven myself…not sure what I was thinking... it’s not like I had a long trip. Oceanside Harbor is all of fifteen minutes from my house. Dumb.
I showered and than had a pretty standard brekkie of one strong cup of coffee, two slices of toast and a bowl of cereal. Other last minute prep included a double check of my gear bag, topping off my tires to 110 psi, then out the door at 4:15.

Amazingly, despite the fact that I was at transition at 4:30 and it wasn’t scheduled to open until 4:45, I was not the first person to arrive. There were at least a dozen other bikes in the transition area (and not just the pros who I believe rack their bikes the night before).

Over the next two hours I did the standard pre-race stuff. Set up my gear, got bodymarked, hit the porta potty (twice), did a 15 minute warm up run, chatted with some friends and laid down using my bag as a pillow for about 20 minutes while I listened to my iPod and tried to relax. The time went quickly and before I knew it, it was 6:40…time to get my wetsuit on and get ready for my 7:03 race start.

Swim
The water was not nearly as cold as last year. Once the race got going, I found it quite comfortable actually. I found a rhythm pretty quickly and felt good. The water was nice and calm, but as we neared the mouth of the harbor near the turnaround, the waves were pretty rough. This combined with the rising sun made sighting a bit of a challenge. Once we turned around, a kayaker was yelling at everyone to swim toward the high-rise building on the horizon. This was a big help. Got to the finish with no problems with a time of 28:59. Right on target with what I expected. I swam about a minute faster last year, but I have only been swimming sporadically…so my expectations were very conservative.
There was a long run around the transition area to my bike. I took the time to put on socks, but decided to skip the arm warmers, as it didn’t feel all that cold.

Bike
Once out on the bike, I told myself to race smart. I’ve done very little volume on the bike, and I knew that any pacing mistakes would be disastrous. So, I got into my aero position, sipped on some sports drink and just tried to stay conservative. Plenty of guys flew by me, but I kept the ego in check and let them go. After the first little climb on Stuart Mesa, I started to feel a bit nauseous and by the time I got to the Las Pulgas turnaround…my stomach was in serious distress. I slowed to a stop, pulled over and puked up my entire breakfast (and probably some of the previous night’s dinner as well). Maybe too much ocean water? I’m not sure. I felt a bit better and got going again. My nutrition plan was three gels, one bottle of sports drink (GuH20 + whatever was on the course), and three Thermolyte pills per hour. I had nothing but sports drink before getting sick, so I stuck to my plan and tried to get some calories in my system. The stomach wasn’t having it and I did a nice rolling puke (first time I’ve done that!) at around Mile 25 and again at Mile 40. Despite the puking, my legs felt pretty solid. No issues on the first climb on San Mateo and I spun up the remaining climbs with no real problems. The course was quite a bit windier this year…the descent on Dead Man’s Curve was kind of sketchy, the bike was getting blown around a bit. The headwind coming down Vandergrift was also nastier this year. In 2007, I remember cruising the final 10 miles at 23-24 mph with little effort, this year I was pressing to
maintain 21.
Rolled into T2 with a 2:49 split, about 13 minutes slower than last year. Some of that was due to the wind…and stopping to puke didn’t help either. As I rolled into Hot Corner, I briefly considered calling it a day; knowing that the lack of calories in my system would have dire repercussions on the run. But I figured I paid my 200 clams, I better get my money’s worth! It was time to HTFU.

Run
Quick transition and came out of T2 running on pure adrenaline…managed 6:40’s for the first two miles and hit the four mile marker at 27 even. I saw Andy Potts and Craig Alexander go by me on The Strand…it appeared they had a race going; Alexander was nipping on Pott’s heels. The fans at the finish line were in for a quite a show!
For me, the wheels started to fall off at around Mile 5… I started to cramp and feel pretty faint. I resorted to walking and sipping on Coke and water at every aid station. It helped some and I managed to keep it down and did the ‘jog between aid stations’ routine the remaining nine miles. Run split was 1:43 and finish time was 5:08.
Apparently I looked pretty terrible, because the volunteers escorted me to medical after I crossed the line.
My time was a pretty big drop off from last year (4:45), so I’m somewhat disappointed. But I’m happy that I managed to finish the race in a respectable time despite everything not going as I hoped. I’m still not exactly sure what caused me to have stomach problems…that’s the first time that’s ever happened to me in nearly a dozen 70.3 and IM races.
For now, the wife and I are going on a little vacation for some R&R. When we return, I will probably try to dissect this a bit more and see what lessons I can extract from the experience.

Thanks for reading.

We said good-bye to Kona yesterday. The cancer, which first presented in his right front shoulder and had made one leg nearly useless, had quickly spread to his rear leg and his abdomen. Trying to get around on three legs is hard enough, moving around on two was nearly impossible. The painkillers had ceased to help much, if at all. The last few nights he was moaning all night, even though we had tripled the dosage. Truly, no way to live.

We decided yesterday morning that it was time and called the vet. They said to come in at 3:30. I took off from early from work. After the girls got home from school, we explained what was happening and spent about an hour with him... just petting him, giving him some of his favorite foods. Then we drove to the vet and said our final goodbyes. We all held him as they gave him the medication and let him go.
____

My wife and I got Kona seven and half years ago, right after we returned from our honeymoon. The day we picked him up, he was all of 8 weeks old and weighed 13 lbs. He sat on Kelly's lap on the ride home.

As it turned out, I wasn't working those first couple months and we spent our days together while Kelly was at work. I taught him to sit, stand and shake hands. Heeling was never his strong suit through... he always had a mind of his own, but I didn't mind. We took up a near permanent residence at the local dog park and explored the trails near our house. He never did like to play fetch though, every time we tried, he looked at me as if to say, "I guess you didn't want that tennis ball, huh?"

He was always our protector... when Kelly was pregnant and when the kids were babies, he always stood guard around them, giving any new dogs a thorough sniff-test to make sure he could trust them. And he never strayed too far, just in case. On business trips, I never worried about the safety of the house. A big, strong 125 lb dog with a huge bark is the best alarm system money can buy. He particularly hated Jehovah's Witnesses when they came to the door. I always loved that about him.

He never wanted much... just to be around us. No matter what room of the house was occupied, he had to be there too. Even after the cancer, he would hobble around just to be close to us. He had his favorite spots in every room. In front of the fireplace in the living room. Next to my desk chair in my office. In his dog bed in our bedroom. Between the girls' chairs in the dining room... pretty smart actually, this doubled his chances of getting food. On the patio in the backyard. Whenever I was home, the sound of his breathing was a constant, gentle reminder that he was there next to me.

Now it's too quiet. Thanks for seven great years, Kona. We'll miss you.

In addition to playing athlete quite a bit of the time, I also play cook... which is primarly driven by my love of eating. So this is the first, but certainly not the last, recipe post. This year, I played cook for Thanksgiving. We had a pretty good sized group over to the house, thirteen people including nine adults and four kids.

Everything turned out well, but I received the most compliments on the green bean dish that I prepared…so I am sharing the recipe. It is really easy to prepare, but plan ahead as the dressing takes a day or so for the flavors to fully develop.

To give proper credit, my recipe was adapted from a recipe in Epicurious (an iPad app) and which originally appeared in Bon Appetit magazine. The original recipes used different vinegars, walnuts instead of pecans and cherries instead of cranberries. But I went with what I had on hand and adjusted to my taste.

Green Beans with Pecans and Cranberry Vinaigrette

Ingredients

For vinaigrette:
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/3 cup minced shallots
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 teaspoons Balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
1 1/2 teaspoons coarse kosher salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/3 cup dried cranberries (or Craisins)

1 1/2 lbs trimmed green beans
1/2 cup pecans

Whisk together vinaigrette ingredients, cover and place in refrigerator. It is best to do at least one day ahead.

Toast pecans by spreading out on a baking sheet and placing in a 350 degree oven for 5 to 10 minutes, being careful not to burn.

Bring large pot of water to a rolling boil and add green beans. Prepare large bowl of ice water. Cook green beans for 4-5 minutes and then immediately add to ice water. This will stop cooking and help to intensify the bright green color. Once the beans are chilled, drain and pat dry with paper towels, making sure to remove as much water as possible.

Toss together toasted pecans, cooked green beans and vinaigrette dressing and serve.

It's a shame to see Michael Vaughan has retired. Apart from anything else, he's one of the nicest blokes in cricket: look at that anecdote about his son in the above story. But mainly, of course, he's a fantastic cricketer and captain par excellence.

I do think it's too early for him to retire. He has struggled with form of late, but the greats are able to turn that around. Ricky Ponting confessed he thought Vaughan "might have had a bit more to offer international cricket", and I agree. Think what a vice-captain he'd make to Andrew Strauss.

Also, if the rightly-picked younger players start to stutter then England might need someone with experience, and while the likes of Collingwood, Strauss and - God help us - Pietersen have that experience, they don't have the Test nouse that Vaughan has.

But I don't judge the selectors for dropping Vaughan - of course not. You need to pick on form and current quality, not performances of yesteryear. I wouldn't have picked him for the 16-man squad either (although, having just seen his performance in the Lions warm-up game against Australia, I'm not sure I feel the same about Harmison). It's just a shame that Vaughan took this opportunity to retire because I, like Ponting, really feel he has more to offer. If he'd stuck around on the county circuit for another year or two, he might have picked up a lot more runs and even found himself back in the international set-up - and even if he didn't, he'd still be a major player at his beloved Yorkshire.

So do I think he's lost his bottle and retiring too soon? Yes. He's 34: the 'spending time with the family' excuse doesn't ring true yet, and since he's blaming a loss of form anyway, it's not even relevant. This may seem harsh, but remember I'm a massive Michael Vaughan fan, and let us remember him this way. But ultimately, when the going gets tough the tough get going, and Vaughan has - unfortunately, in the wrong direction.

Ronaldo to Real, eh? And Kaka too. Not to mention Manchester City signing Gareth Barry. But did you hear about Burnley snapping up Tyrone Mears from Derby?

Watching the big-money buying antics of Real Madrid certainly provides some entertainment for the long summer football-less months, but the fun is short-lived. The real fascination comes in watching the teams without silly money scrape together their back-of-the-sofa coppers to buy Aberdeen's reserve left-back. Why? Because these teams need value for money, and there's a great game to be had, both for the clubs and for those of us watching, in predicting who can provide it; the player who not only helps the club to win matches, but at a cut-price rate.

Which is why it's most interesting at the moment to watch Burnley, Birmingham and Wolves – those teams newly promoted to the Premier League. Even though we're some 37 days (and impatiently counting) from the opening weekend, you can tell a lot from the way a club will go about its top-flight adventure by its close-season purchases.

Look at Derby two years ago, for example. With a notably weak squad, they hardly ventured beyond the High Street, with perpetual Welsh disappointment Robbie Earnshaw the only major signing. There was never any ambition. Famously, the Rams were relegated as early as March, and finished the season with a League record low of 11 points.

At the same time, Sunderland sought to reaffirm their place in the top flight with a spending spree, including Craig Gordon (£9 million), Michael Chopra (£5m) and Kenwyne Jones (£6m plus Stern John on an exchange deal). The Black Cats survived the drop.

But despite Sunderland's successful dealings that year, it's not all about spending a lot of money; it's about spending wisely. Hull went bargain basement this time last year, getting players on loan and free transfers, and enjoyed an incredible start to the season – and even if it did go a bit pear-shaped after that, they still stayed up.

So which of our new teams this year are shaping up well in the transfer market? Let's take a look at their chequebook stubs.

BURNLEY

Preparing for their first outing in the Premier League, the Clarets have been relatively quiet in the market to date. Only three players have made their way to Turf Moor so far this summer, as manager Owen Coyle chooses to keep faith with the team that won the Championship play-offs.

Burnley have, however, paid a club record transfer fee to bring Scottish striker Steven Fletcher from Hibernian for £3m.

Potential bargain: David Edgar. The 22-year-old Canadian defender was sent off on the last day of the season as Newcastle succumbed to relegation, but he received praise from Kevin Keegan and Glenn Roeder and was named man of the match in a 2-2 draw against Manchester United.

Potential turkey: Steven Fletcher. Can Fletcher live up to the pressure of being Burnley's most expensive ever signing? Hibs legend Keith Wright openly questioning whether he is ready for the best league in the world won't help his confidence.

WOLVES

Last year's second-flight champions have been very busy, signing six players. Most promisingly, they've broken the bank on Kevin Doyle, paying Reading, who bought him for just £78,000 four years ago, a reported £6m for his services – a Wolves club record. Reading team mate Marcus Hahnemann has also arrived on a free.

Potential bargain: Nenad Milijaš. Voted Most Valuable Player in the Serbian Superliga last year after 37 goals in 97 appearances for Red Star Belgrade, Milijaš has also scored twice in ten matches for Serbia. And he's a midfielder.

Potential turkey: Ronald Zubar. The former France Under-21 and Guadeloupe international incurred the wrath of Marseille fans after some costly defensive errors. Three million Euros may be too big a fee.

BIRMINGHAM

With more money to spend than their promotion buddies, Birmingham have sought to shore up their defence with some big-name Championship purchases. Roger Johnson, Cardiff player of the year for two years running, has arrived at St Andrews for £5m, joined by 22-year-old Coventry captain Scott Dann for a reported £3.5m, rising to £4m.

Potential bargain: Joe Hart. One of England's best 'keepers on a season-long loan? Yes please.

Potential turkey: Lee Bowyer. Bowyer came on a free transfer, so at least he won't be an expensive letdown, but is he still good enough to play at this level? The jury's out on that one.

I was in Tuscon last week for the Gorilla Multisport Winter Training Camp. My original intention was to blog every day while at camp to give the daily update on the experience. But, frankly, I was too tired to manage it. So, now I am typing this from home in San Diego after a few days of recovery and decompression.

I had been looking forward to this for a while... five days of nothing but training, learning and hanging out with some other like-minded triathletes.

We arrived on Tuesday, I'll call it Day 0. After the long drive I was pretty wired, so I went for a quick run before some grub and bed. Our hotel was about 2 miles from the Kino Sports Complex, which is where the Arizona Diamondbacks do their spring training... made for a nice turnaround for the out and back route. Workout #1 in the books.

Day 1 - Wednesday
The other campers were not due to arrive until mid-day, but since we were in town and had some free time, my friend and Gorilla Multisport Coach DeeAnn and I went to a Masters workout at the University of Arizona. They run a nice program over there and the pool is amazing. With the week of heavy training ahead, I was glad to find out that the workout was an easy one. Lots of fast 100's and 50's with lots of rest, along with some technique work. I ended up with just over 3000 yards for the workout. After some coffee, breakfast and a short rest, I headed out for a run out to the Kino Sports Complex again. One of the campers from Florida, Joseph, had arrived, so he joined me. We ended up with just over 4.5 miles of easy jogging. After lunch and "registration", the entire crew convened for the first ride of the camp, Gates Pass. The ride began with a flat stretch through urban Tucson, which was not great due to all the stoplights. But once we were out of town, the scenery was amazing... spectacular views of the desert and endless miles of cactus and beautiful landscapes. The highlight of the ride was the climb up and over Gates Pass, which has a section at the top that rivals some of the steepest roads I've ever climbed on a bike. Out of the saddle in the 39x26, just trying to keep the pedals turning over. After a photo opp at the top, we bombed down the backside and back into town. Total ride was 38 miles. After getting back to the hotel and cleaning up, we were treated to a nutrition presentation from Bob Seebohar (www.fuel4mance.com), elite coach and sports nutritionist for the 2008 US Olympic Triathlon Team. I learned a lot about metabolic efficiency and picked up some tips that I will definitely incorporate into my own training.

Day 2 - Thursday
AM - 50 mile ride out to Colossal Cave Mountain Park. Coach Bob and Seton Claggett from TriSports.com joined us for the ride. Both are great guys and strong athletes. Overall, an moderate ride with lots of false flats and gentle inclines. The best part was that all the climbing was in the first 30 miles and the entire 20 mile return trip was a gentle descent. Immediately upon returning, our group headed out for a quick 20 minute transition run. Coach Bob rode and ran with us and gave us some great tips on run cadence. After a quick bite to eat, I put my legs up for an hour to rest up for the afternoon ride.
PM - 38 mile ride, the bottom half of the El Tour de Tucson route. By this time, the day had turned hot and windy... so we were treated to a pretty tough ride, starting out in urban Tucson, than out to some less-traveled roads in the north part of town. As soon as we could get our bikes in the hotel rooms and showered up, we headed over to a strength workout with Coach Bob. We focused on a concept he calls neuromuscular activation... essentially a series of pre and post-workout movements that activate the key muscle groups. Again, I learned a lot... great stuff.

Day 3 - Friday
AM - The Shootout is a regular Saturday hammerfeest that has been taking place in Tucson for over 30 years... its a fairly challenging route famous for attracting the most competitive cyclists and is typically full of attacks and counterattacks. We choose to do The Shootout ride on Friday on our own to get a sample of the route without the blistering pace and a big peleton. Seton Claggett from TriSports.com rode with us again. It started out with an easy 15 miles in town than a long 15 miles of false flat... nearly dead straight... before it finally kicks up with a final short steep climb. I was feeling pretty strong so I kept the pace high on the false flat, but once the hill came Seton dropped me like a rock as he disappeared up the steep incline. The local knowledge proved to be pretty handy! After regrouping, we headed back into town at a pretty good clip (22-24 mph) thanks to the mostly flat and gently descending route.
PM - Late Friday afternoon, I had a swim analysis and video scheduled... but beforehand, for the first time in three days, I had a couple hours to relax. So I napped by the pool. After my nap and a shower, I headed over to TriSports for my swim video. They have a sweet two-lane Endless Pool set-up with underwater and above water cameras. The instructor told me that my stroke was pretty solid (I hope so!), but gave me a few suggestions that I think will be helpful. In particular, one thing that I discovered is that I tend to pull up short with my right arm on the pull. So I need to concentrate on finishing my stroke on that side. Good feedback and something I probably would have never figured out on my own without the video feedback.

Saturday - Day 4
AM - This was the big day. Mt. Lemmon. A 26 mile climb rising from 2500 ft to a peak over 8200 ft. I've ridden San Diego's big climb, Palomar Mountain... which is tough. But the top of Palomar is at just over 5000 ft. When climbing Mt. Lemmon, the 5000 ft mark is not even halfway up the climb. Palomar is steeper, but it is the length of Mt. Lemmon that is killer... over 2 hrs of consistent work going up the mountain. We started the ride with an easy 15 miles of riding through Tucson and regrouped at a coffee shop about 2 miles from the Mile 0 marker at the base of the climb. After some pics and a double shot of espresso, we started up. There were 5 of us (myself, Norm, Manny, Joseph, and Greg) in the group that agreed to ride the whole mountain... the rest of the campers would climb for 90 minutes as far as they could go and then turn around. The summit team (sounds cool, eh?) all exchanged numbers and arranged to text or call each other if for some reason we needed to turn around. Otherwise, we would all meet up at the top. We got going and could see the road twisting up the mountain ahead of us... it was pretty intimidating. About 50 yards past the Mile 0 sign, Norm informed me that my rear tire was flat. Crap. He stayed back to help me get it changed while the rest of the group proceeded ahead. Once I fixed the tire, we proceeded again. The first 5 miles of the climb were tough, there were some killer headwinds that made it tough just to stay upright on the bike. I thought to myself that if the entire climb was this windy, it was going to be a very, very difficult day. Fortunately, as the road twisted and turned up the mountain there was some shelter from the wind and it got easier. I made a concerted effort to keep my HR in high Zone 2 (130-140) and just stayed on my 39x26 gear keeping the cadence high. This netted me a blistering pace of about 10-11 mph. Ha. Every few minutes, I shifted up to my 25 or 23 and climbed out of the saddle to give my hamstrings and lower back a rest. At Mile 7, I caught Manny and Joseph and we all took some pictures from the Seven Cataracts viewpoint. Spectacular. After the short break, I continued up the climb and quickly separated from the other guys. The views up the mountain were simply unbelievable, incredible rock formations and of course, the view of the valley falling further and further away... the closest thing I can relate them to is the Grand Canyon. It's hard to do them justice with words or even pictures. The rest of the climb went pretty well. Every time my legs were screaming for a break, the slope softened a bit and I was able to recover just enough for the next tough stretch ahead. Finally, I got to the first peak at Mile 21 and was treated to a descent. A descent? Wait, I'm not at the top yet! The final few miles of the "climb" were a bowl that drops about 400 ft before re-ascending to 8200 ft at the village of Mt. Lemmon. At the base of the final climb, I caught Greg whom I hadn't seen since I flatted two hours before. We laughed about how tough the climb was, and rolled into town together. A great sense of accomplishment that we indulged by getting some hot chocolate (it was cold!) and huge pieces of banana cream pie. About 10 minutes later, Norm rolled in and about 30 minutes later, Manny arrived. Shortly thereafter, we got a text that Joseph had turned around. So we finished up our good, got some pics and then headed back down the mountain. It was about 30 degrees cooler at the top, so I put on my arm warmers and shoved some loose paper (the cafe to-go menus!) in my jersey front to block the wind. It took about 25 minutes of work to get back out to the first peak, which after the long break and food was tough. But once back to Mile 21, it was literally all downhill from there. The descent is somewhat technical and super-fast. By the time I got to the bottom, my hands were cramping from constantly being the brakes trying to moderate my speed. On several occasions I was touching 40 mph and that was trying to be conservative. Finally, after regrouping again at the bottom, we headed back for the final 15 miles toward home. The full day was 85 miles, about 8000 ft of climbing. A great day on the bike and one that I will remember forever.
PM - Once we rolled back into the hotel at about 3pm, we slammed our (late) lunches and got ready to head over to the University of Arizona pool for a swim workout. I was tempted to bail and just relax, but the idea of splashing around the pool for a drill workout sounded good. Finally at 5pm the tough day was over and we all gathered around the hotel pool for pizza and beer. Good times.

Sunday - Day 5
Final day of camp... no cycling. After four tough days of riding, it was nice not to be getting on the bike first thing in the morning. Besides I was running out of clean cycling clothes. Actually, I ran out of clean stuff on Friday... but was able to make do with some Woolite and the hotel room sink. Anyway, I digress. After a quick breakfast, we piled into the cars and headed out to Saguero National Park for an amazing trail run. There is a 8 mile loop that is simply spectacular. Everyone was on their own to decide how far they wanted to run, we simply had a two hour time limit. Most choose to do one loop. My legs were pretty toasted from the riding, but I wanted a little more than 8 miles. My lower threshold for a "long" run is 12 miles, so I ran one loop and did a 2 mile out and back to bring it up to the requisite dozen. The quads were not happy with me as I climbed back into the van for the 20 minute drive home. After some more breakfast and a shower, we packed up the gear, said our goodbyes and got on the road back to San Diego.

Overall, it was a tremendous few days. Training wise, it was my biggest week ever... with over 270 miles on the bike, 30 miles of running and about 7k of swimming. To think that pros do that every week!! Aside from the training, the other campers were awesome... good people all of them. It was great to spend some time hanging out, we had a blast.

Here are some pics from the rides.

Entrance to Colossal Cave Mountain Park

Joseph, Manny and Me - The Shootout Loop

Heading toward Colossal Cave Mountain Park

The Mt. Lemmon Summit Crew - Manny, Norm, Me, Greg, Joseph... before the climb

At the base of Mt. Lemmon, right before I flatted.

Somewhere near Mile 10 of the Mt. Lemmon climb

Mt. Lemmon - Looking down, around Mile 14.

Banana Cream Pie and Hot Chocolate at the top of Mt. Lemmon - delicious.

Taken while descending at 35+mph. Not recommended.

Do you think, after such sports-related injuries as tennis elbow, runner's knee and PlayStation thumb making their way into medical parlance, we will soon be talking about people suffering from selectors' headache?

If so, Geoff Miller and his cohorts must have been fighting over the Paracetamol yesterday, when they met to decide upon a final 13-man squad for the first Ashes Test against Australia (here it is, by the way). They probably weren't helped by the utterly insane run chase undertaken by Peter Trego and Somerset. Even though the 13-man squad can be changed for future matches, it can't have been an easy decision.

It can't have been easy, for example, to leave Steve Harmison out of the side. He bowled superbly for the England Lions in Australia's warm-up game, hurrying the batsmen with his pace and bounce and exposing some real flaws in the famously unorthodox technique of opener Phillip Hughes, dismissing him twice for seven and eight respectively. He bowled brilliantly, just as we all knew he could, but in the effective shootout between Harmison and Durham team mate Graham Onions, who also bowled well, Onions got the nod.

Ricky Ponting spoke out against Harmison's omission, but perhaps oversold him a touch. "He bowls at over 90mph," said Ponting, "and with his height, it's a pretty handy package." The thing is, though, Harmison doesn't bowl at over 90mph - not any more. And when he's not at his best, he's at risk of looking tame.

The 13-man squad is, as Aggers has smartly noticed, a balanced one, with flexibility allowing different selections depending on the conditions. If it's overcast, Onions will take the ball alongside Broad, Flintoff and Jimmy Anderson, with Graeme Swann likely to be the lone spinner, but given Sophia Gardens' - sorry, the Swalec Stadium's - aptitude for spin, it's likely that England will field two spinners, and in the thankful absence of the not-yet-ready Adil Rashid, they will be Swann and Panesar.

The question, of course, is whether Panesar has the nouse to spin out Australia's batsmen. He hasn't developed as well as we would have hoped in the last couple of years, and still sends down stock delivery after stock delivery, like some sort of gravy salesman. Until he learns the importance of variation, he's not going to pose the sort of threat he should.

Australia have a much bigger problem. Their only specialist spinner, Nathan Hauritz, has been very out of touch, and it looks increasingly possible they won't even pick him for the Swalec Stadium Test.

This is surely unthinkable.

The pitch won't just take spin - it will positively demand it. It's no coincidence Glamorgan were fined two points for a "poor" pitch that took too much turn (which naturally didn't help the controversy over the pitch's selection for the first Test). Quite simply, Australia need a specialist spinner, and Hauritz is the only one they have. Michael Clarke and Marcus North are both good quality part-time spinners, but they won't be bowling to take wickets, and I certainly can't see them taking five-fors.

They have to pick Hauritz despite his downturn in form. That's all they can do. Australia's dearth of spinners is good news for England though, especially with the rejuvenated Swann - who, by the way, I have been backing for an international call-up for at least ten years - being the leading Test wicket taker this year. It's enough to make you think Glamorgan's spinfest was picked for reasons other than money.

Maybe not.

One (or rather two) of the most interesting and appealing things about blogging is its immediacy and its brevity. Why wait a day for a full-scale investigation into a story by a national newspaper when you can read a journalist's opinions on it straightaway, and in just five minutes?

Then I come in and cock it all up by blogging regularly once a week and at great length. I suppose one way of looking at it is that I'm stripping down the boundaries, man, and I'm not restricting myself to a blog's... restrictions. But alternatively, it might just be that I trust my readers to have good attention spans and a good enough memory to return later if they're short on time.

Why am I saying this now? Because, writing a piece on American politics as I speak – well, not literally, since I'm obviously writing this as I speak and as it happens I'm not actually speaking at all – I can tell you that it is going to be epic. There's just too much to say. Sorry.

So if you're looking for a quick opinion on the American presidential election, here it is: I am expecting and dreading a Republican victory. But if you want a bit more than that, read on. And if you don't have long to read this, as you are perfectly entitled to be, what with this being a blog and everything, you can always take a look at the other stories and bookmark the first one for later.

Hell, who am I to give you advice? This blog is for you, not me. I hope you enjoy it. Until next Sunday then.

McCain in the fast lane but no home straight yet
God Save The Queen
Medicine flatlining in the comedy stakes
Alex Ferguson is a tosser
Admin: a word to the wise

No blood on the carpet, but then it wasn't that dirty a fight. The first televised debate between John McCain and Barack Obama has been and gone and there was no clear winner. It was a surprisingly clean affair, with Obama's assertiveness, using the words "when I'm President", seeming a bit incongruous in a debate between two candidates striving to seek legitimacy rather than state a case for election.

Whether this will last remains to be seen. But equally fascinating were the shenanigans on McCain's side beforehand. The Republican candidate tried to postpone the debate to allow a greater concentration on the current financial crisis. He did not succeed.

It may look like weakness, but trying to delay the debate was actually a very shrewd move by McCain. Not only did it give the appearance of a candidate in touch with the common man worried where his money's going; it neutralised the blow the financial crisis has had on his campaign by showing that he acknowledged the problem and wanted to resolve it straightaway. Obama, on the other hand, was in danger of appearing a power-hungry outsider not interested in the people he wants to lead.

But he pulled it back with aggression and good old common sense. You want to help the economy, John? Don't we all? But people want to know – now – what you're planning to do and I don't see why that should happen behind closed doors. Doing two things at once is an integral part of leading the country and hey, if you're not ready to do that, I'm happy to step in.

The bail-out is interesting. It looks like a bit of a rabbit out of a hat, but it was always on the cards. Matt, the cartoonist in The Telegraph, drew a fantastic cartoon, reproduced here with thanks, that sums it up quite well.

And the debate itself? Well... it's complicated – which is why analysts are choosing to strip it down by saying that McCain won on the all-important foreign policy front, but it was essentially a draw. I'm not sure about that. Obama made the better points but McCain made the better appearance and sadly, that's what's going to count. I would say that although neither candidate emerged a clear winner, McCain probably just edged ahead in the stakes.

He drove home the experience card. I mean, he rammed it home. Everything new that Obama suggested was brought back to his alleged inexperience, and although that is his stock response, McCain was able to highlight

his own experience to bring up good decisions he made on foreign policy (apparently there are some) earlier in his career. At one point he reacted to Obama's plan to negotiate with foreign threats by saying, "So let me get this right: we sit down with Ahmadinejad and he says, 'We're going to wipe Israel off the face of the Earth' and we say, 'No, you're not'? Oh please." That was damaging. Even though McCain was parodying Obama's supposed naïveté to an extreme, it made the Democratic senator a laughing stock in the hall and suggested he's... well... just too nice to tackle terrorism.

McCain automatically has the problem of having to admit to mistakes the Republicans have made in office, but he's somehow working it to his advantage. "We Republicans came to power to change government, and government changed us." Humility, however false. If Obama points out errors made in the Bush administration – such as landing the country in $700 billion of debt – then unless McCain is personally involved he can reply, "Yes, we've made mistakes, but I can change that", or even "I regret that mistake but I've learnt from it", bringing him back to the advantage of his experience. He also wins the award for stating the obvious: "We cannot allow a second Holocaust – let's make that very clear." Thanks for that, John.

And most powerfully, he can rally the troops. He used the debate over the financial crisis to say he has a fundamental belief in the American worker, whom he claims is better than any other in the world, to pull America out of this hole through sheer hard work. Who cares that an individual's hard work can't pull a country out of a $700 billion debt? McCain realises how much sweat I put into my job. He's on our side, unlike that black commie. I'm great! We're great! U-S-A! U-S-A!

Combine this with Obama's perceived class-related elitism and you have a problem: how can he win the blue-collar worker away from 'working man' McCain? Yes, this is bollocks, but that's their respective reputations in working-class America.

Obama's wry humour on politics can not only undermine him beside McCain's serious 'I care about American people' approach, but also appear patronising. Saying things like, "We had a 20th century mindset that basically said, 'Well, you know, [Musharraf] may be a dictator, but he's our dictator'" can come across as belittling the American public, suggesting they can't understand global politics without it being dumbed down, and however true that may be, that's not an image you want. It's a shame, because Obama has a head for a great turn of phrase, but his superb rhetoric may well act against him, not for him.

He also stuttered a bit in the debate, which I wasn't expecting, and has the unfortunate verbal tic of saying "y'know" a lot. However quickly he says it and however hard he swallows it, that "y'know" makes him appear less confident and less certain about his views. McCain's catchphrase seems to be "I'll tell ya", which is a lot more grabbing. Amazingly, his is often the real oratory.

The fact is that McCain 'won' the debate, at least on foreign policy, because he connects with more Americans. If one candidate responds to a question about Russia by talking about energy resources, and the other says he looked into Putin's eyes and saw three letters: a K, a G and a B, guess which will have workers talking by the water cooler about him. Yes, it's cheesy, yes, it's glib, but it's popular and it's going to win him the election.

I'm sorry. Excuse my pessimism. But mark my words: come Christmas, John McCain is probably going to be President of the United States of America.

We're in trouble.

Not another poll saying the Tories are ahead of us. I'm not holding a bloody election. I'm Prime Minister, not Cameron. We need to do something. What do people care about? Quick, Bryant, hand me that Daily Mail. Ah, the monarchy, eh? Very well – let's do something about it. That'll show 'em who's boss.

After a constitutional review by MP Chris Bryant, the Government is planning to rejig the way succession of the throne runs in this country. The law stating that Catholics cannot be King or Queen, and indeed that anyone inheriting the throne must make before parliament a declaration rejecting Catholicism, is to be thrown out, and so too is the requirement that the crown is automatically passed to a male heir. This means that Prince William's firstborn would be monarch upon his death even she was female.

It's a sound suggestion that obviously makes a lot of sense – there's no reason why even monarchy, the least democratic concept in the country, should be party to sexism and Catholic-bashing. I'm sure it's news that thrills Catholics and women alike, not to mention Catholic women. Finally, that insurmountable barrier is gone. They too can be Queen.

Hang on one crazy little minute though – don't you still have to be part of the royal family to do that? Isn't there some sort of requirement for someone to be born to a monarch to become one? Isn't this basically a minor amendment to an undemocratic system, perpetuating an antiquated outdated practice through supposed modernisation, and probably designed to get people behind the Labour Government again even though it affects them in absolutely no way?

I do love how people are celebrating this 'widening out' of succession, as if anyone can be King or Queen of the country now. It doesn't quite work like that. And it's a bit stupid to claim the current rules prohibiting women and Catholics from taking the throne 'clashes with the Human Rights Act'. The whole bloody idea of monarchy clashes with the Human Rights Act. Stop trying to polish a tiara-shaped turd.

Still, it's just making it fairer to those who are in line to the throne, and that runs deeper than you might think. The current law banning Catholics from the throne also applies to sons and daughters of Catholics, and those who marry them (honestly, this makes Catholics sound like mutants or something). Earlier this year Princess Anne's son Peter Phillips married Autumn Kelly, who was baptised a Catholic. He would have lost his place as 11th in line for the throne (blimey, that was a close one) but Kelly recanted her Catholicism.

Things have changed a little since the days of Thomas More. Put a crown and a sceptre in front of a wavering Catholic and they might just do a quick St. Peter impression – Jesus who?

Are you CTD? An FLK? NFN? How about GROLIES? Let's hope not. But rest assured you won't be for long – these abbreviations are falling out of fashion.

In medical circles these terms used to be thrown around like confetti, but apparently, no longer. Since you ask, they are acronyms used to describe patients, and just to warn you, most of them aren't that positive. CTD means 'Circling The Drain' (as in, dying quite rapidly), FLK means 'Funny-Looking Kid', NFN stands for 'Normal For Norfolk' (nice) and the innovative GROLIES denotes the description 'Guardian Reader Of Low Intelligence in Ethnic Skirt'.

Clearly these are brilliant, and should never fall out of fashion. My favourite was once DTS, used to describe obese patients. It means 'Danger To Shipping'. Now, though, I have fallen in love with the medical phrase TEETH, an abbreviated form of 'Tried Everything Else; Try Homeopathy'. One more secret of the medical world blown apart there.

But these acronyms aren't being used much any more, and who can be surprised? We live in a compensation culture: if you can sue somebody, you sue somebody. Twice. Surgeons are in constant fear of losing thousands if they don't get an operation exactly, perfectly right; why are they going to take risks with their job, reputation and wallet by calling a patient 'GPO' (Good for Parts Only)? What if the patient finds out? The doctor's immediately trying to settle out of court.

I don't know. Modern life is just ruining medical comedy. To quote Thornton Reed in Garth Marenghi's Darkplace: "The main reason I went into [medicine] was for the laughs – that and the pussy, and the pussy dried up a long time ago if you get my drift."

Sorry. Please don't sue me.

I've never liked Alex Ferguson.

When I was a naive young Spurs fan (i.e. from toddlerhood up until a few months ago, when I tore up my figurative season ticket through protest at how the club treated Dimitar Berbatov) I became increasingly frustrated with Manchester United grabbing last-minute equalisers/winners against us in the eighth minute of questionable injury time, and for this I blamed Ferguson's obvious manipulation

of referees and referees' assistants. Add to this his supreme arrogance, his absurd excuses and above all his incessant whining about referees being biased against his team – even though United have clearly had more luck with decisions than any other club in the world, ever – and you get a man that I would immediately consign to Room 101 without a second thought for his family, his friends if he has any, or the mistreatment of a grand Orwellian concept by BBC television.

But in recent months and years my intense hatred towards this waste of human tissue has been quelled slightly by another manager of equal detestitude (yes, I made that up). Arsene Wenger. Never before has such a whining hypocritical coward walked this Earth, and frankly I find it hilarious whenever Arsenal lose just because their manager is an arse.

But Ferguson's comments after their 2-0 win over Bolton have brought it all flooding back. Manchester United got a dodgy penalty after a fantastic tackle by Jlloyd JSamuel of JBolton was adjudged to be indecent. United took the chance and took the lead after an hour of being held at 0-0. Bolton boss Gary Megson called the decision "absolute nonsense" and "an absolute howler" (someone give the man a thesaurus). Ferguson responded, "I was surprised because it looked as though their lad got a foot on the ball," then, "But Rob Styles turned us down four or five times last year so maybe it is payback time. But he still owes us another four."

SHUT THE HELL UP. There is not some great conspiracy against your team, Fergs; on the contrary, referees have spent the last 15 years losing themselves in your colon. If it's beginning to even up now (I'm told decisions have finally been going against United) then that's justice, and to be honest, not enough of it. Rob Styles has not been giving bad decisions against Manchester United, and if he has it's pathetic bringing it up now. Let. It. Go.

I've never liked Alex Ferguson.

Sorry, just a brief bit of shopkeeping. I have recently undertaken a new university course and for my studies I will need to keep a blog. It won't be in the same vein as Huw Davies' Week Spot, and it won't be updated only on Sundays. It will be on this site, or perhaps another site connected by an internal link, but I will endeavour to keep it separate from this review of the week's events. So if, in the next few weeks, you see a new section to this blog, don't be scared - it's all part of the plan.

Thanks.

Looking at all kinds of news stories over the course of the week, you can't help but feel there's a lot of hostility in the world. As a highly-opinionated budding journalist, I like to think I'm adding to that.

Sarkozy upsets the Irish
London upsets the tourists
Pattinson upsets the balance of the English cricket team

The most amusing news for me this week was the EU’s understanding and diplomatic response to Ireland’s snubbing of the Lisbon Treaty. Ireland’s general public said ‘no’ in a referendum on June 12, and this week Nicolas Sarkozy, President of France and kind-of-President-of-the-EU-until-the-end-of-the-year, basically told them to try again and get it right this time.

Strangely, the response to his response hasn’t been that positive. The Irish are very proud of their referenda – any potential change to the Irish constitution must go to a public vote – and having sent a serious message to the EU and helped Poland and other member states to throw a spanner in the works they don’t really fancy the ignominy of being treated like an unruly child. After all, the power is theirs. If they keep saying no, the Lisbon Treaty can’t go ahead. Simple as.

Sarkozy has recently tried to explain his position, arguing that the EU needs to operate and can’t wait on the Irish forever because, “We will need to know a little in advance under which legal system, Nice or Lisbon, we will be making these decisions” (the wonderful irony there, of course, being that the Irish rejected the Nice Treaty as well). But the Irish have made a decision. It wasn’t a maybe. It was a no.

The bigger question for me is whether they should have had a referendum in the first place. The basis of Western democracy is that we have the power to elect people to make decisions for us, and then complain when they do. An attractive loophole is that if a massive issue arises, we can vote directly on it (theoretically). But for a referendum to make any sense, the issue can’t just be sufficiently important, but sufficiently simple as well.

The (brilliant) comedian Marcus Brigstocke put it well in his Planet Corduroy tour: “Yes, ask us questions we couldn’t possibly know the answer to. Please ask me something, I am utterly unqualified….I can tell you what the dividing line will be between the ‘Yes’ and the ‘No’ camps: it will be whether or not you had a shitty French exchange when you were a teenager.”

And he’s completely right. My bet is that very few Irish voters know the ins and outs of the monolithic slab of paper that is the Lisbon Treaty. They’re effectively voting on whether they like the EU or not. Now that’s OK if you’re voting on whether or not to join the EU or even the Euro (even if you can’t know the in-depth economic details, it’s a sufficiently big decision for the public to have a right to vote on it), but not in this case, perhaps.

The Sunday Telegraph has revealed that London is an expensive city for a tourist. The world continues to spin on its axis.

This cannot come as a surprise to anyone who has ever tried to do the tourism thing in London. “Two tickets to the London Eye, please.” “Certainly, sir. That’ll be £390.”

Sorry, that’s a gross exaggeration. As if anyone working for the London tourist trade would be as deferential and polite as to call you ‘sir’.

Anyway, the study calculated that for a family of four to take an open-top bus tour and visit the city’s top nine tourist attractions (including the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace and Tutankhamun live in person at the O2) would cost, in total, £550. If you’re looking for a comparison, Rome would cost only £216 for an equivalent day out, New York £376 and Paris – including the Eiffel Tower, Disneyland and the Louvre – £386. Riots not included.

You could argue, reasonably, that you’re paying for better attractions. Dublin may cost less than a third of the price on the same axis, but the tourist spots include Trinity College Library and the birthplace of George Bernard Shaw. Without any disrespect to Dublin, that’s not quite on the same scale as what London has to offer.

But this is not to excuse its extortionate prices. Madame Tussaud’s costs £27 in Hong Kong and £50 in Berlin, but £85 in London. There’s no excuse for that kind of overpricing. Maybe it’s hard when they’re stopping you walking in the street to take photographs and constantly asking the way to the Houses of Parliament, but you’ve got to treat tourists with a little respect.

In my extremely biased view, London could learn a thing or two from Cardiff. Not only does it have free prescriptions and free hospital parking (hurrah for the Welsh Assembly), but free museums as well. London claims its museums are free, but only when they feel like it – one-off exhibitions cost a bomb.

Of course, not everything in London costs money, and seeing the city’s undiscovered delights is definitely the way forward. It also might persuade tourism bosses to drop their prices at little. And for me at least, while Westminster Abbey’s great and everything, few experiences can top a walk through Hyde Park with a 99 and having a healthy political debate with a complete stranger at Speaker’s Corner.

Not that I stole the ice cream, obviously. I did have to pay for that, I suppose.

In sport, Padraig Harrington defied the weather to retain the Open, Lewis Hamilton defied his own team to win in Hockenheim and South Africa beat the English cricket team into a bloody pulp.

With questions over Hawk-eye and sportsmanship just on the first day, controversy was at the forefront and no more so than in the shadowy figure of Darren Pattinson. You may well ask who. The Grimsby-born, Australia-raised 29-year-old’s selection ahead of a plethora of proven stars and promising hopefuls can only spell bad news for English cricket.

Not that it’s Pattinson’s fault, of course – he was as stunned as anyone else to be called up for the English national side. And not just because he has a broad Aussie accent. After all, Kevin Pietersen was born and raised in South Africa, not to mention former English greats such as Tony Greig, Allan Lamb, Graeme Hick and Nasser Hussain all hailing from the southern hemisphere. No, the problem with Pattinson’s selection isn’t his nationality – it’s his pedigree.

When Pattinson walked onto the pitch just weeks short of his 30th birthday, he’d played just 11 first-class matches in his career. Yes, 11. Ever. Two years ago he was a roof-tiler. You simply cannot throw such an inexperienced player into a Test Match and expect him to do well.

Much was spoken about England’s decision to go with a five-pronged bowling attack, but it was hardly a sharp one. In fact, it had as much penetration as a spork. What with Andrew Flintoff playing his first Test in 18 months and Monty Panesar extracting little spin from the typical Headingley pitch, Jimmy Anderson and Stuart Broad had a tough enough job without Pattinson chucking down harmless wobblers.

This is not to mention the adverse psychological ramifications of such a random selection. Steve Harmison expressed concern that Pattinson was selected ahead of him. Matthew Hoggard mentioned the possibility of international retirement. How it must feel for the likes of Harmison, Hoggard, Simon Jones, Chris Tremlett and Kabir Ali (6-58 for Worcestershire at the weekend), knowing they’re effectively next in line for a place only for Pattinson to come in from nowhere. It’s not even about Muggins’ Turn; to pick Pattinson on form alone (29 first-class wickets this season at an average of 20.86) is crazy, especially when Harmison has taken 40 at 23.1, and knows a bit about Test cricket.

Pattinson just isn’t good enough for Test cricket – or at least has not been given the time on the county circuit to prove he is. He’s inexperienced. He’s Australian. He can’t bat (a problem, given England’s tail). And at 29, he’s not one for the future. Why pick him?

He also dropped an easy catch. Maybe he’ll fit in after all.

[Monday’s edit: incredibly, the selectors’ idiocy has been surpassed by that of Kevin Pietersen, who, required to bat for at least a day to give England a chance of a draw, hit 4 4 1 4 before getting himself out. 13 from 5 balls. Just what England needed.]

I must apologise for some naughty words appearing in this post. Such are the dangers of talking about professional football. Rest assured, though, that it's not me providing the swearing – it's the managers. Irresponsible bastards.

The blog's also a bit truncated – i.e. short – this week. After a hefty analysis of the first Obama vs. McCain debate last week, I thought it might be best for me to give American politics a rest this time round, even with the Palin/Biden showdown having taken place this week. So this is more lightweight, in focus and pounds of virtual paper.

Finally, you may have noticed a new section to the blog, available on the wall to the top-right of the page, as promised in my last post. There's nothing on it yet, but it'll happen, and it'll be about online journalism (well, I find it interesting). You may choose to ignore it or you may choose to read it. Obviously I'd prefer it if you did read it but just so you know: it won't be my opinions on the week that passed, as this is. It's not really affiliated with Huw Davies' Week Spot. Well, it is, because it's me writing it. But it's not the same blog. It's not the same sphere. It's not the same Huw Davies.

It's blogging, Jim, but not as we know it.

And now: normal service resumes.

Chancer of the Exchequer
Churchill vs. The Daleks
FuKinnear

The BBC reports that Alistair Darling, Chancellor of the Exchequer, has said he is willing to take "some pretty big steps" to stabilise British banking and the economy.

GOOD.

I'm not saying he should, necessarily, because I don't understand economics enough to suggest whether interference would be appropriate or not, and whether taking steps would be better than waiting it out. But I'm certainly glad to hear he is willing to take pretty big steps. You'd hope so. Otherwise, what is the point in government?

He also said he was looking at "a range of proposals". That is not convincing. Apart from the fact that every politician in the history of the world ever has said that exact sentence – or at least, none that I know of has said, "We are not looking at a range of proposals" – it's disconcerting to hear it from the Chancellor of the Exchequer because it doesn't tell us anything.

It is not news. Or rather, it shouldn't be. I'd hope that we are confident enough in our government to know they would take the steps necessary to bring this country out of a hole. We should be. We shouldn't, however, have to be reassured they would.

The fact is that people want something more concrete than that. Back in the day it was good enough to hear "Hey everybody, it's gonna be OK" when the economy was hitting the fan, but now, when people are completely, horribly terrified of losing their money, they want to know the Government has a plan – not that it will find one, but that it has one. Until then, words are not enough. And, as Obama and McCain's failure to immediately convince the majority about their plans for the economy proved (sorry, that's the last I say about America), people are happy – well, not happy, but prepared – to learn a bit more about financial politics than they previously were. That's the level of trust we have in our politicians now. And given that Darling thinks we can still be placated by vague promises, it's justified and probably necessary.

Sad, innit?

It was Magazine Week all last week (or this week, if anyone reads this as soon as I post it), and to celebrate, Borders booksellers offered a buy-one-get-one-half-price deal on magazines and magazine subscriptions. Huzzah! Reason at last for me to buy The Oldie without feeling I should spend the money on pretending to be young.

There was also a poll, sponsored by the Periodical Publishers Association (PPA), to find Britain's favourite magazine cover. I know what you're thinking: what kind of sad bastard remembers their favourite front cover to a magazine? So to help us all out, a team of industry experts nominated some and whittled them down to a 'best of the best' shortlist of 16. Here they all are.

As those of you who have just looked at that link know, the Radio Times Dalek cover won. I'm not disappointed as such; more indifferent. I mean, it's an all right cover, I suppose. I'm not overwhelmed, but I'm not underwhelmed either. I'm 'whelmed'. It's a striking image to put on a front cover, but the 'Vote Dalek' slogan doesn't actually make any sense – it's just a very tenuous tie-in to the General Election that was happening at the time (if anything, it probably gained some votes from people taking the slogan as an order). So it's not all that clever, or clever at all in fact. Still, it doesn't need to be, and that's why it won. It's simple and it grabs your attention – and that's the point. Still, it'd be a downright lie to deny that a lot of those votes were members of the public thinking, "Ooh, Daleks!"

I honestly thought the NME's Beth Ditto cover would win, but I just as honestly hoped that Time Out would. It takes some balls to stick it to Winston Churchill – look how badly Hitler fared – but to do it on the anniversary of his death in the midst of some serious Churchillmania is about the bravest thing you can do as the editor of a magazine. Not only that but it's an amazing, attention-grabbing front cover; not to mention beautifully ironic in using Churchill's own 'V' sign as a 'fuck you' to the man himself.

It's a shame that Time Out is purely just a 'What's On' read now because we need some more political ferocity in our magazines, but maybe a guide to London isn't the best vessel for that. Still, we need something – before we all start voting Dalek.

I'm sure you've all heard by now about Joe Kinnear's verbal tirade against certain members of the media in his first official press conference as Newcastle manager. If not, here it is in its full glory. I love The Guardian for printing this, but in all honesty it's hard not to when, as a journalist, you hear, "Write what you like. Makes no difference to me."

Choosing the best bit of this fantastic rant – please read all of it – is hard, but my personal favourites are the start –

"Which one is Simon Bird?"

"Me."

"You're a cunt."

- and the end:

"Enjoyed getting back in the swing of things?"

"Absolutely. I've loved every moment of it."

I actually don't have much to say about Kinnear's outburst except that I would love it to happen in football more often – love it. It's great to see a football manager wearing his heart on his sleeve and holding his career with invisible tongs. And it's not as if it was a one-off: brilliantly, Kinnear had to watch his first game in charge of Newcastle from the stands because he never finished serving a touchline ban at Nottingham Forest four years ago.

He was, of course, wrong to have such a go at the press. They reported the truth: that he had taken a day off from training on his first day of work, and they merely cast aspersions to tensions at the club – which, when you're in the relegation zone with allegedly one of the strongest squads in the country (uh... ), is likely to be the case. And as manager, however temporarily, of a team in difficulties, Kinnear should be trying to calm the waters, not rock the boat.

But I can't judge someone who provides me with that much entertainment. And thanks to Everton's wavering concentration before and after the half-time break, Newcastle grabbed a 2-2 draw today. Maybe there's life in the old Toon yet.

Perhaps not for Spurs though.

Things have been pretty crazy around Casa Flores for the last month with my family visiting from California and what, at times, seemed like endless stream of parties to cook and prepare for. So after nearly six weeks focused on celebrating with friends and family, it's time to look toward the future on how to make the new year even better than the last.

2010 was a huge year of change for me and my family. In August, we moved from the beaches of sunny San Diego to the mountains of West Virginia in order for my wife to pursue a lifelong goal of hers, which was to work at The Greenbrier. The stars aligned for her, as she is now playing a key role in the rebirth of the resort... truly exciting times. We swapped roles as she took over the responsibility of primary breadwinner as I quit my job at a telecommunications company and effectively ended my career in technology sales to take over as the primary caregiver for our two young daughters. This has a been a incredible blessing. My relationship with my kids has improved dramatically. Not that it was bad before, but we are much closer now than when I was working full-time.

The other blessing that has come out of the last few months is that the downtime has allowed me to do some thinking about how I want to focus my energies going forward.

Primary 2011 goal - To leverage my experience and passion for endurance sports and fitness by providing coaching and training services, primarily focused on beginner/novice athletes who are looking to use endurance sports as a way to open the door to a fit and healthy lifestyle. The state of West Virginia suffers from some the highest obesity rates in the country, despite the ample outdoor activities that are available here. My aim is to help stem the tide of this epidemic one individual at a time by becoming an evangelist and an educator. The first step is to educate myself more fully and I am currently in the process of obtaining my NASM Certified Personal Training Certification and later this year will pursue my USAT Triathlon Level 1 Certification. Much, much more on this to come as this plan comes to fruition. Stay tuned.

Of course, I have some personal fitness goals as well, some big picture and some more fun little challenges.

• Become a runner again. After six months off, it's healed and time to get back to it. And get back to 80 min half-marathon shape by the end of the summer.
• Row a 6:40 2K on my Concept2 indoor rower. My original time frame was by December 1. A back injury last month derailed my efforts somewhat, but I am back (pun intended) and will be posting my progress here regularly as I try to achieve this goal by February 1.
• Row 2,000,000 lifetime meters by April 31. (at 1,048,829m as of Jan 4)
• Sub 4:30 Half Ironman Triathlon. Goal race - PPD Beach to Battleship Triathlon
• Complete both TRX 40/40 challenges (upper body = low row/atomic pushups, lower body = hip press, suspended lunges)