A version of this piece first appeared in My Eyes Have Seen The Glory Chris Parker, loving husband, doting father, loyal friend, died this time last year. A few weeks before his sudden passing, family and close friends gathered in a secluded pub garden to celebrate the christening of his first child.

So how was it for you? The morning after is always worse than the night before, or in this case two mornings after. It's bad enough watching Spurs self-destruct, but the real impact is when you have to go work on Monday. My tried and tested method of dealing with football-related grief (hey, that's sounds good, [.

By now everyone who has any connection to Ireland has had their say about the handball. Prime Ministers, footballers including our own human wind turbine, and, on the Today programme yesterday morning, A Rich Irish Bloke Who No One has Heard Of. My neighbour's Irish setter is in mourning. That must be why he was [.

Don't waste your valuable time reading this. Really, there's no punchline, not even a half baked joke or modestly amusing article. Feel free to let me know how much time you've wasted. You'll never get it back, you know. The news at Spurs is: nothing. England? Well, all power to them and good luck to Crouch [.

One of the good things about not having a crowded fixture list this season is that when we win, there's more time to bask in the warm nourishing glow of victory. It's a great feeling, something which Spurs fans have frankly not been accustomed to over the years. The reservations expressed in my match report [.

I am having coffee with my friend Adriana. "So," she says, "I see". She sets the handle of the cup to the right, with the spoon at a decorous diagonal. "You were in charge in there. Very perky." I leave in the air the unspoken implication that this is not always the case. "Something is doing you good".