Started looking out gear for the trip this week. And then knuckled down to the club newsletter. Although I think the finished thing is acceptable enough, it could be better. With more time. Perhaps just with someone a bit hungrier? That's the thing these days - who's hungrier? Who wants it more? Spain or Italy? This was the first Euro 2012 game I'd watched and it was a faster, more open and more pressing game than I expected.
But something troubles me; I don't know what it is. A sense of something troubling has settled nearby. Unfinished business. I do know what it is. And I know it won't be settled, for that would be undiplomatic. There would be ructions. Unintended consequences. I'll just put it in its box. In its effing box. And writing that down, I feel the load lifting. Phew.

Crazy Chester followed me, and he caught me in the fog.
He said, "I will fix your rags, if you'll take Jack, my dog."
I said, "Wait a minute, Chester, you know I'm a peaceful man."
He said, "That's okay, boy, won't you feed him when you can."

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