January and February are the season for Seville oranges. Seville oranges are used for marmalade, and they're much more bitter than other oranges - which is why regular oranges are usually called "sweet oranges" when you need to disambiguate them from Sevilles. If you try to make marmalade with sweet oranges, it apparently comes out disgustingly ( Read more... )

I promised the tweeter website a post about why "Sk8ter Boi" sucks rocks through a straw, so here it is. It bugged the piss out of me the first time I heard it, and further acquaintence has only deepened my distaste.

He was a boy, she was a girl
Can I make it anymore obvious?I failed to pick up on this one on first hearing, because I was living in ( Read more... )

Foul weather forced the postponement of several games. Most significantly for us, Chesterfield, the only team between us and the top of the table, weren't in action, giving us a golden opportunity to overtake them. Our obstacle - not counting the ever-threatening elements - was Rochdale, a team we thrashed at their place less than two months ago. ( Read more... )

I'm not going to do the monthly meme, because I missed so many months it's hardly worth bothering. Also that last sentence would have been the first sentence of December, and I'm afraid of recursion.

( You know how this works, don't you? )

[Another character sketch from the novel I really should try to write. As before, please please comment, especially if something sounds wrong ( Read more... )

[This is a character sketch from a novel I keep telling myself I'm going to write. I'd be interested in comments, especially anything you think doesn't ring true ( Read more... )

Have a smartphone selfie.


( Read more... )

We had a chance - slim, but undeniably a chance - of avoiding the drop. We had to win, and hope Colchester lost in such a way that the combined goal difference was three goals or more. I declared loudly that I had come to witness our relegation, that we were about to become a League 2 team, that the drop was inevitable; the truth was that as long ( Read more... )

This time, I made it to America ( Read more... )

The programme for the Crawley game was almost perfect. It had two pictures of Matt Sparrow, now playing for Crawley and looking as good as ever, and one of Gary Hooper. Just as Fluffy was betting I would take it to bed with me, I turned the page and was confronted with a picture of a certain ex manager I'd rather forget. "I bet you don't sleep with ( Read more... )