Welcome Home

Blue skies over London and my first visit to Stamford Bridge after the Summer break, for a not very taxing game against Stoke City. It feels like coming home. I’m disappointed that the beer has changed, though I never liked the old one and they all taste the same anyway. But the Zigger-zagger man is here in full throaty voice (there’ still only one of him too). Alex, in the row behind, is as grumpy as ever, even though we win, comfortably, 2-0. Alex, on the pitch, is solid and dependable and, even though not so Super Frank misses a penalty, as the final whistle blows and we discover Tottenham have gone down 1-0 to Wigan, at home too, everything is, for a few moments at least, in it’s right place, and life feels organised and under control and simple and fine.