Four days spent away in that reality known as life with little to no internet and yet I return mentally and physically exhausted. A combination of family, driving and far too much fresh air with accompanying pollen. The great outdoors is desperately in need for trees with built in sockets. Alas, I only jest. It's good to get away. Whilst I spent my time talking to the animals and reciting poetry, skipping on the beach, there was the little matter of Tottenham hosting Southampton. The battle between the originators of 'Ohh When the Saints' and the copycats that sing it so much better.
I cheated nature by attempting to check my Twitter time-line (possibly the worst way anyone can attempt to follow a football match). Thankfully, the lack of 3G meant I couldn't see a thing. Although from the looks of it, random tweets I sent during the course of the day managed to deliver (and embarrass myself). I had not a clue that Spurs we're plodding their way to a no score draw until the 70th minute mark when someone told me he heard not a lot was happening and we looked positively pedestrian in our attempts to change that. Second hand information is frustrating. Is it factually correct? An exaggerated opinion?
Around the 80th minute mark, the same person mentioned it was still 0-0 (his 3G also practically non-existent and the both of us with as many call bars as Spurs had goals). I sighed. Dropping of points now would pretty much hammer a final nail into the coffin and render the Chelsea away game as an afterthought rather than a play-off.
Then a butterfly flaps its wings and half way across the world (few hundred miles if that to be exact) a hurricane storms through N17. Gareth Bale was born to play for Spurs and save Spurs and have Spurs sat on his back.
When news eventually filtered its way to my isolated haven I screamed out with delight, punching the sunshine lit air with defiance. Like King Canute I stood in front of the sea attempting to hold back the tide. But much like Canute knew, no one man is capable of the impossible. Well, perhaps just the one man...