Work

Rather beautifully, this classic piece of Soviet propaganda is stuck to the wall beside me as I write these words in my break. Another Saturday at work. Had to get up early. Nausea. London does look rather incredible on a Saturday morning with the trees in blossom, the sun shining, and the air cleared after rain last night. The view from the Central Line as you pass through Acton is staggering - London (or at least the western parts of it) are laid out before you. Several coffees have made me feel a little more human, and I have two afternoons off next week, one of which allows me to prepare for the Champions' League Final (no beer for the first time in 15 years, though). Working today does mean that I am missing the first FA Cup final I've actually wanted to watch since 2002. As a child, before Mr Murdoch's channel ensured that football pervaded every aspect of British existence, FA Cup day was one of the highlights of my year - the build up from 12 o'clock, ably handled by Des et al, with highlights from previous years was always bliss. I have to say that it has lost some of its shine in recent years - neither Millwall nor Southampton were particualrly inspiring, and both the BBC and Sky now have the old-style FA Cup build up every Saturday afternoon, and the quality of football in the Champions' League dwarfs that of the English cup competitions. And I am becoming older and more cynical with every hour that passes.