Hello.
I thought it was about time I reported in again.
Things have been gradually improving in my tempestuous love affair with the beautiful game.
And today I reached new heights.
I became a Fox in disguise.
I went to the Mad Stad to watch the boys live with three Royals fans.

Well done those Chelsea boys!
Yes I know those are not words you would usually expect to see writ large on this blog.
But you see, whilst I was away on my ... erm ... sabbatical, my secret interest in this lot has increased.
Not that I would ever betray my Foxes for them.

I think my post must have gone astray.
Whatever other reason could there be for not having received my invitation to that wedding, when others have clearly received theirs.
'Spect you can look forward to something a bit more up market than pie and mash there David.
Not that I'm bitter you understand.

We're quite green around these parts.
Not green as in wet behind the ears.
But green as in environmentally aware.
So it has not come as a complete surprise that the owner of our local team, Forest Green Rovers, has unilaterally banned red meat from the diets of the players and fans when they are at the ground.

I've been sick girls.
Not in the conventional sense you understand.
Sick in my heart.
It started back in the summer, in June. My lover was kind and sympathetic as you would expect.
And I was in denial for a while. Then just got absorbed in a wave of negativity.

Is it my imagination, or is there an increasing polarisation between clubs in the football league? There are those seeking to grow at a pace in line with their means, such as Blackpool, Aston Villa and Arsenal. Those who have Sugar Daddies and so disconnected from the real world. And teams which see borrowing on the promise of future return as the road to success, such as Manchester United, Portsmouth and Liverpool?

I'm looking at a bunch of Spurs fans on the screen on my living room wall.
HD certainly shows up every tiny detail of those miserable little faces as their men get a kicking from the Young Boys.
No doubt City's manipulation of the situation with Craig Bellamy to prevent any other Premiership team getting the benefit of his talents, whatever the attitude problems that come with that, feels particularly galling to 'Arry this evening when he could have done with a solid performance from the Boy Wonder.

Welcome back for the new term everyone.
I have got so much to tell you.
We are just back from a caravan holiday in the North West.
And visits to lots of football grounds.
From the Theatre of Dreams to lowly Chester's ground, rising like a phoenix from the ashes.

Is a great line from this song.
And tomorrow is when it all starts.
This time tomorrow I'll be in a field somewhere need Chorley, Lancashire, with My Lover, playing guitars.
We are going to explore the local sights of course.
Bury market.
Old Trafford.

HL again this evening.
In my opinion, one of the recurring themes of blog seems to suggest the idea that simple, one dimensional solutions to problems do not work. And that football, like many other aspects of modern life, is often victim or martyr to public opinion, public outcry or public condemnation.

Football has taken a low profile in this house over the last few weeks. A few brief moments of interest for me.
Roy Hodgson's arrival at Anfield, subsequent welcome to Joe Cole too.
It's HL tonight btw.
GB is still alive and kicking, I've not done away with her.
She may have something to say if I prod her hard enough, however.

"You've fallen out of love with football haven't you?", said My Lover a few days ago.
I was shocked by his question but denied he was right.
It made me think though.
Unable to face posting on my blog for days at a time (first time in the 2 and a half years I have been writing it).

It's HL tonight. GB is still reeling from the aftershock of her first failed World Cup campaign, the loss of Fox's manager ( a man in whom she believed) and, worst of all, living with a bloke who believes LFC are going to win the Premiership next season.
So, it's all over; the big 4 yearly adventure, Fabio's Folly or, as it's become known in our house, the cultural event that must not be talked about.

I feel the need to indulge in a little self flagellation.
That's better.
Meanwhile, back with Laurel and Hardy.
What's that?
Time to move on?
You're right of course.
Time to start thinking about My Lover's simmering excitement at the appointed of his royal Hodgsonness to his beloved Liverpool.

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.", Martin Luther King, 1963
"The ultimate measure of a football blogger is not whether she posts in times of triumph, but the quality and frequency of her writing in times of trouble", Georgina Best, 2010
One of us managed to live up to our ideals.