We have London fog and visibility 50 feet. Photo in Richmond Park, near Sheen Gate, whilst walking the faithful pooch.
We see
Chelsea dis-assemble Everton 3-1 at Stamford Bridge and I learn a few new usages for words otherwise not said in public company (Everton, by the way, a district of Liverpool in Merseyside) . We are seated near the Everton section and, I note, the visitors entirely male and many of them look like, well, thugs. I am sure they are not but at least one guy thrown out for taunting Chelsea. Otherwise the vibe is wonderful on a warm autumnal evening and we are priveleged to some remarkable football : in fact, the best football in the world. Both kids, but especially Eitan,
in enemy territory and I remind Eitan that last time we were here he sported his ManU gear until he took it off. Under duress. The Shakespeares get into the home team and we buy Chelsea caps and jump for joy @ each goal. They have slushies, salt-beef sandwiches on some kind of weird pretzel bread, hamburgers and sausages (gross, why do people eat them?). Says Eitan:
"Top tip Madeleine: support Chelsea if you don't want to get mobbed."
Sonnet takes the evening to see the Beijing Dance Theatre at Sadlers Wells in
Islington with Lizzie. She returns home to find me in front of "Die Hard 2" as Bruce Willis puts
six bullets into some dude's head :
"I'm not watching this after the theatre" she says, making an abrupt U-turn. Me, I have a late evening.
