Driving home for Christmas. I was beginning to think we were starting to put this whole pandemic business behind us and I could stop mentioning the C word. Alas, here we go again or more to the point - here we dont go again! When we can book any trip with confidence, all of a sudden looks further away from us than ever. We are back to waiting on the word of TFB, as to whether further restrictions will be foisted upon us. The other Home Nations went early, but TFB holds the purse strings and has one eye on the knives in the back. He eventually chose to maintain the status quo. Plan B onwards and upwards. The situation seems to be getting closer to home as well. The Man in the Middle has tested positive, even though he was fully boosted. Im fine he states unsure whether it is the Omicron variant, a bit breathless, but just like having a cold. A couple of days later and he could hardly walk upstairs. He is now on the mend. I remind him that he is out of condition anyway, not having run for a bus or a tram for a
good while on our East European football missions. Peak fitness possibly waned a decade ago, after a dash outside Partizan Belgrade in 2011. On reflection, he thinks it could be the new undetected strain - the public house variant - caught whilst indulging in licensed premises. The Tricky Trees will have to cope without him for the next 2 matchdays. We have another friend, who succumbed to the Tenerife variant once back in the UK. The rules changed 3 times, whilst he was out there and it played on his mind whether he would get home or spend time locked in a Spanish hotel room. There was also the small matter of the testing regime eating into his beer budget.
Driving home for Christmas has a new impetus this year. Mini have latched on to the tune, as part of their latest TV advertising campaign. The Rea family fortune was already doing quite nicely on the annual royalty cheque, so this year the icing will be really on the cake when bank balance is inspected. It highlights that Mr Rea wrote the song on Christmas Eve 1978 - in a Mini. What it doesnt say is that he wrote
it driving the 250 miles home to the Boro from London. I believe that one of cars featured in the advert features a Mini Electric model. The stated range on a single charge is up to 145 miles. If a budding songwriter his Christmas tune today, hed be able to add an extra verse whilst the car was on charge somewhere south of Sheffield.
In years past, we would have sorted out a bit of a get together with old friends. Time often heals some of the differences of opinion from school. I stress that these would be gatherings, not parties. In political circles, it seems the two are often indistinguishable. There could be a reassessment of the English Language going forward. Does a party require to have copious cheese, outdoor catering, more than 3 bottles of wine and the attendance of the shy one from accounts who likes a glass of fizz? There is no lockdown to date or restrictions on social mixing, but the transmission of the new variant has forced most into a form of hibernation. The usual buzz of a licensed premises at the festive period was missing. Everyone was just either being
thoughtful to protect the older relatives or just being plain cautious. Meanwhile elsewhere in the North East, audience of 80000+ managed a spot of festive football at St James Park and Awesome Park.
As a child of the 1960s, the words make do Our last serious venture to Athens was 21 months ago, but I have managed to blog and find something to write about closer to home. It is always interesting to look more closely at things considered not worthy on your doorstep. I settled into a Christmas routine. A Norfolk Terrier of my acquaintance likes a routine and demands a full entertainment package. We were out across the fields, down the woods or on the beach everyday. There were always squirrels to chase or new forms of seafood to inspect on the high tide line.
