Here we go again. Again.

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After the disappointment of last time out, and the exhilaration of the previous campaign, it’s the start of another football season, kicking off (for us at least) at Deepdale in Preston, this evening.

And usually about now, I’d offer some sort of salient comment or knowledgeable opinion on how things are going to go for my beloved Blades this time around.

But I actually have no idea.

We’ve got rid of some great players, we’ve got some promising new players in, we’ve had a decent pre-season, but we haven’t really been tested, we have all sorts of boardroom issues hanging over us, we’re starting on -2 points, and this is the Championship: a notoriously difficult league.

In fact, I’m not even sure what a successful season looks like. Promotion? Play-offs? Avoiding relegation?
But then, if you don’t have a goal, you can never be disappointed when you don’t hit the target you never set, right?

And, with the club’s video package at an eye-watering £180, I’m not sure how many of the matches I’m going to be watching anyway.

Ah, here we go again. Again.

Breeze

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Could this be the last “proper” cold front to come through this winter?
It’s definitely on its way, with the skies looking threatening, and the wind on the rise.

My feeling is no. There’s still plenty of time for a couple more Cape storms to round off a very wet and cold wintertime here.

So, some sort of hat is probably in order.

That said, after this one and its hangers on, there does appear to be a bit of a window of distinctly springlike weather in the medium-term forecast.

Let’s not count our chickens.

Actually, chicken counting might be a good idea before the worst of the weather comes in tonight. There’s a real danger that your chickens might get blown away by a wind which is expected to gust well into the 90s. That’s kph, not the best decade for music.

50 knots. 58 Swedish miles per hour. Hectic, bru. Those numbers fall squarely into the Force 10 Storm on the Beaufort Scale, which I’m told is the goto scale for all things wind-related. So yes, count your chickens and make sure you tape down your beagle’s ears firmly to prevent excessive flappery.

So yeah, another few days of cold, wet misery to get through before we can even think about getting rid of these “hospital tans” and enjoying the sunshine.

Good luck.

A new sport

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We can tell just about exactly where the local building work has got to by which brands of plastic wrapper we’re finding in our back garden.
The roof is done (using Marley roofing membrane), the electrics are going in (Voltex), and it looks like the bathrooms are well on their way (Cobra – a classic choice).

And after the excitement of the Pole Vault this week, we’re being treated to a new sport, which – given that breakdancing has made it to the Olympics this time around – I can only imagine we might see (or… er… hear) in LA in 2028.

Unintelligible Shouting.

I’m not exactly sure of the intricacies of the laws of this new sport, but given that we have experts in the field working next door at the moment, I have gathered at least some knowledge of how it works.

Points are clearly awarded in the commonly used Artistic Impression and Technical Merit categories, much like its sister sport, Synchronised Artistic Swimming. But unlike the swimmers, it’s not about getting your collective leg over together, but more on the volume, raucousness and lack of coherence in your presented piece.

And the competition is pretty tough.

Earlier, we enjoyed endured a 45 second long spiel of what was likely some request for a part or tool. But this was a request which came out in one single string, apparently without breathing or punctuation. It was scored highly from that point of view, but honestly, you’d have to be there or fairly nearby to hear it, which really let the whole thing down; and the judges will rightly dock points for that sort of oversight at this level.

Step forward competitor number two – appropriately enough working on one of the bathrooms. Utilising the echo of the presumably newly plastered walls, he belted out… something… so loudly that the person on the other end of my phone call asked if everything was ok. And I was inside our house at the time.
But again, concentrating too hard on one single aspect of the performance was a rookie error: he got a reply to whatever he was asking, and the officials were quick to jump on that, asserting that if a reasonable reply could be given, then whatever was asked – while obviously ridiculously loud – was also clearly comprehensible.

And with a couple of the others out of the way, the pre-event favourite (who I have to say sounded pretty much like competitor number two again), stepped in and swept through to the gold medal position. Ostensibly addressing someone in the same room, the volume was actually offensive, prompting nods of both pain and approval from the assessors. And the judging panel were further favourably impressed by the fact that not only were they unsure of what language he was using, they were also at odds as to whether he was, in fact, singing. The use of intensity, pitch and general slurring earned a remarkable 96.74% overall, and I think we can all agree that a score like that is unlikely to be beaten.

Please.

This project is four months in now, and running long overdue. Thankfully, (and I think this is perfectly clear from my ramblings above), I don’t believe that it’s had any effect on my sanity at all.

Up and over

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Amazing scenes at the Olympics last night, as Mr Pole Vault, Armand Duplantis, won gold and broke the world record for the 9th time. But this seems a bit excessive from the Olympics twitter account.

Great image, though.

Without gravity, 6.25m would be nothing. Anyone could jump over anything. In fact, the problem wouldn’t be going up, it would coming back down. Imagine that he ran along, vaulted up… and just kept going.
World record? No problem.
Running out of oxygen and ending up in space? Slightly more concerning.

Also, I know he’s clearly been concentrating on his career in athletics, but what sort of person has never heard of gravity? It’s a bit of a fundamental when it comes to education. It’s rather insulting to suggest that he’s a one trick pony.

No need for this sort of nonsense. Or this:

Anyway. Last night we watched the pole vault.
This evening, we’re watching a Lithuanian on the parallel bars.

Little and Large

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Much has been made of the “viral” image of Shaquille O’Neal (2’16 m) and Simone Biles (1’42m).

74cm between them, and apparently she’s wearing heels.

It’s a reminder that humans come in all shapes and sizes, and what might work for one sport would certainly not work for another.

Although you’d love to see it.

Shaq on the balance beam? Simone trying to slam dunk a basketball which is about half her size?

Hilarity.

But by far the best take on the photo? This one:

If you know, you know…

And if you don’t:

High time I had another Father Ted marathon, I think.