Oh how slowly can I stay here?

...and never yet too much

Today the sun shone. If only for a little while...

And my heart sings of many things...

...in cries and whispers

Sunday morning. Wonder what the new Blur stuff will sound like? Good, I should expect.

A few snowy days this week, but it's disappeared again. Back to greyness and rain. Bah.

That dreadful turncoat Berbatov knocked the mighty Spurs out of the cup yesterday. Typical. At least now they can "concentrate on the League", heh heh. They better had, as they're right back in the thick of the relegation battle again. Balle. Stoke on Tuesday. A real twelve-pointer if ever there was one.

Roll on Springtime I say...a bit of sunshine and daylight would work wonders. Payday. About bleedin' time too.

Home is a love that I miss very much...

...so the past has been bottled and labelled with love...

Guess who's back?

Just the one point, but a step in the right direction. A pity Calamity was in such good form today cos Spurs really did create the most chances. Is it just me, or is it a bit worrying that Tottenham have one goalie who can barely run and can't kick the ball but who plays the whole ninety minutes anyway...and an eighty-year-old Italian feller as sole backup? Hmmm.

It's trying to snow. Me likee.

But when that bald guy sang "You sexy thing"...

...both of our pants just dropped...

Gulp. Spurs are officially bottom of the League. Horrible. At least until they play today at 17:00 (swedish time). It's so ridiculously tight down there, though, that a win would see them move up about five places or more. So fingers (and everything else) crossed and thumbs held for that. A bit of a grudge match with traitorous Sol playing for them (amongst other ex-Spurs boys) and 'arry and little Jermaine having moved in the opposite direction.

A little snow here today. Najs säger jag. Hopefully more on the way, as the temperature is hovering around the zero mark. I've just treated myself to a nice Lemsip. Mmmm. Although it doesn't taste the same as I remember. A little sourer. Or maybe that's just me, snigger.

To dare is to do, baby...

And like the waves, without a sound...

I'll never let you down...

The snow came to nothing, as it often does, but my hopes are high that it will return, heh heh.

Time to get back to the gym after weeks and weeks of over-indulgence (read: general piggery) over the festive period. Back to school and all that. It's alright. Could be worse. The swing of things. It's like riding a bike. Or a horse. Or something. The old routines. Isn't it?

The mighty Tottenham have sunk back into the mire of the "bottom-three". Gulp. Time is a-ticking, they're taking a licking. Bah. This has got to stop. And soon. Not enough balls in the squad, it appears.

Do you believe in love? Do you believe in life?

...'cos I believe a little part of you inside of me will never die

Okay, this weather is confusing me. This morning I woke to -9 degrees and bright sunshine again, after yesterday's two or three above and damp. What is going on? And when is the snow arriving, heh heh?

Spurs go marching on in the FA Cup, courtesy of two goals from the Russian feller with the bad hair. He's the knockout king. He scores in every round of the cups but struggles in the League. Bah. The League is all that matters right now. Have to wait another week until the next match though. Come on! tap tap tap...

Feels like months since I was last at work. I'll have forgotten how everything works by the time I get back. Ah, it'll take five minutes I guess and then straight back into the old routine.

Gears of War 2 on the XBox360 is a wonderful thing. Oh yes. I've spent an embarassing amount of time trying to get my XBox avatar to look like me. To no avail, I fear. He'll be just to the right of this post.

I'm a big boy now...

...or so they say

Woke up this morning to -10 degrees and bright sunshine. Bootiful.

It's a Friday but it feels like another day entirely. A few days off work and my internal clock (if that's what it is) is all over the shop. Still a few more days off until the working year begins again.

Too cold to snow now. Apparently. Bah. Spurs begin their FA Cup campaign tonight, but it feels like it would be more prudent to rest a few players for the League at the moment. Still no shopping in the January sales by them yet, but it feels like somebody must be on the way in.

Talking of sales, why am I in a shopping mood? Hmmm...surprising, eh? Not...

Ooh, I've got a gag:

A man walks into a jewellers and without a word steps up to the counter and whips out his old boy, placing it on the desk in front of the bemused shopgirl. The assistant is a little taken aback, so she says "Excuse me, sir, I think you've made a mistake...this is a 'clock' shop not a 'cock' shop".

"I knows that", says the man..."put a pair of hands on this for me would you?"

BOOM BOOM. This could be a regular thing. It's the way I tell 'em, etc.,

I come awake with a gift for womankind...

...you're still asleep, but the gift don't seem to mind...

So that's it for another year then. All the pressies have been unwrapped and all the fireworks have fizzled out. Mind, another week before work starts again...

We're in the middle of a cold snap here, but still no bleedin' snow. The temperature's been hovering between about -8 and 0 degrees but...nothing. Snow, already! Bah. Snow, lovely snow. Det är dags.

A dreadful Christmas for the mighty Tottenham. Maybe buying back Jermain Defoe will kick-start things again. Something is needed. And soon.

Another year older, another year wiser, my arse.

Happy New Year clarts!

The future's bright...the future's goldie lookin'.