So, after a 72 hour rest between blogs, I should be refreshed and raring to go. But, I am troubled by the thought that I should have stopped at number 77. I’ve mentioned before that according to Douglas Adams and “ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy “ series that 42 is the answer to everything. Yet, I fear I might just be wrong. And this is where, dear readers, not for the first time, you learn something new from my blog.
Number seventy-seven is not a prime number. But, it is the total of the first eight prime numbers and it is also the atomic number for Iridium. Iridium is how they finally proved what killed off the dinosaurs, which puts to rest the urban myth that is gathering strength, that they died from an early strain of the Big V. Did you really think it was going to be that simple?
Seems that iridium marker layer in the K-T boundary ( please don’t ask me to explain, I just read and copy the stuff down, I don’t have a research lab and surely it’s enough that over four months in to the Big V I am still relying on my South African mosquito bites to have made me immune … you’ll know I was wrong when this blog doesn’t appear for a period in excess of 72 hours …. ) Anyway Atomic Number 77 sounded the death knell for your friendly neighbourhood dinosaur even if that’s not made clear in the Dino the Dinosaur books and cartoons.
Technically all books and blogs should end on their seven-seventh page, so I am really pushing the frontiers and boundaries of science with what I do. Blog number 81 and over the weekend up to 40,000 words on my Christiaan Barnard/ Hamilto Naki book ( and yes, Christiaan does have 2 ‘a’s ) Not sure what happens when you challenge an atomic theory in physics, but I don’t intend to hang around to find out.
What I have found out is that the professional footballers aren’t getting their seventy-two hour break from matches. And why should they, I hear you ask ( where does the question mark come in a sentence like that? ) I know in the bracketed bit it comes at the end but can some grammar/syntax geek give me a hand here, please. I’m looking to Andrea the rival Blogger who is hot on my spelling mistakes to tell me, though, meanwhile, I have to congratulate her on her poem, “ Dreaming “ coming second in the Watford Area Arts Forum Competition.
After a hundred days without football it’s back big time. I will pause there to allow a collective cheer from my male readers and even louder groan from my female followers. And the matches follow thick and fast. Arsenal have managed to lose both their games already whilst my team Newcastle helped make my Father’s Day with a 3-0 win over Sheffield United. I don’t want to dwell on it or gloat ( not that I have any Sheffield readers as far as I am aware ) but the match was memorable for a couple of special reasons.
For years Newcastle United fans have been boycotting matches in protest at the ownership of Mike Ashley ( I don’t like him as he didn’t offer me a lift in his helicopter back from a match at West Bromwich where I sat next to him in the Directors’ Box… though he always had nice Xmas decorations and lights on his big house in Totteridge Lane which he had bought from Mickey Most, the record producer who made “ The Animals “ famous… )
Anyway, the Toon fans hate him. He was a Spurs fan and owned JD Sports and tried to rename St James’s Park and then he bought Debenhams and closed half the stores and sacked a lot of the staff. So, not a lot going for him, but then he’s not a lot different from so many club owners. A former one, Alan Sugar thinks we should end social distancing because he’s not had the Big V and doesn’t know anybody who has. Mind you he lives in a mansion in Chigwell so I guess he has a bit of protection. But, yesterday with a total empty stadium, those stay away protesting fans succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. Shame, really as it was the best performance by the team of the season. But, I said there were two memorable reasons. Let’s get to the other.
Now, even all of you who absolutely detest and despise football will understand this. At the start of the season ( which feels as if it was in a different century ) Newcastle signed a player called Joelinton. They paid over £30m for him a club record fee. I don’t know what he earns, but I would hazard a guess at somewhere north of £70,000 a week. In his entire time at the club he’d managed to score one league goal ( and yes, he is a centre-forward and that’s allegedly what they are supposed to do ) . That was back in August when he managed to scramble a ball into the back of the Spurs net at their new multi-million pound stadium. It came as much a surprise to him as it did to everybody else, because even back then it was obvious he was totally useless. Interesting hair-cut, but that was as far as it went.
But, yesterday, after missing an open goal that Sam, who was watching with me and is not known for his footballing skills said he could have scored ( and he could ) he did finally score his very first goal at home. It was ironic that it was in front of a totally empty stadium, but once he had put the ball in the net he turned around to receive the usual smothering congratulations from his team-mates, then realized they were keeping their distance and he just didn’t know what to do. It was a merciful relief for all concerned when he was substituted a minute later.
Now, apologies for boring the socks off you with science and sport, but let me turn to poetry instead. Sorry, Andrea, but I am not reproducing your poem here, but I am giving you three lines from the Bobster, Bob Dylan. One reviewer of his new album, which I mentioned a few blogs ago described him as the most important poet since 1620. I can’t remember who that geezer was he mentioned, but even I, Dylan afficianado that I am, had to raise an eyebrow there. Quite a bushy eyebrow, at that, as they desperately need trimming. But there is a track on the album called, “ I Contain Multitudes “ and when I sat down yesterday morning and gave the whole album a good listen those three lines caught my attention.
“ I am a man of contradictions,
I am a man of many moods.
I contain multitudes . “
I hope that makes you sufficiently curious to listen to the whole song. But, the fact is that it left me feeling I could adopt that as my personal anthem. I heard my wife on the phone on Friday telling somebody that I was Marmite. And I took that as a compliment. I don’t want to be all things to all men ( or women ). I am not looking to be loved or hated. I am just looking not to create indifference about myself. If those blogs have achieved that ( and I believe from comments and responses I get most days that they have ) then my job is done. Well, not quite because I think I’ve quite a few more blogs in me. Cue more anguished groans. Ok, but you do still keep on reading them, don’t you ?
But that’s your quota for the day. I’ve three zoom meetings and I might need to mow the lawn as I missed out on that yesterday. Happy birthday regular reader, Lee Earl. I promised him a shout out and he’s got it.
Stay safe and if we are spared I will see you all tomorrow.