Slack Jawed Babbling

Never was a holiday so indulgently welcomed. Tenerife, an island that has revealed its layered charms to Family Atkinson time after time, again restored spirits (and topped up sangria and suntan levels).     Granny’s deep resistance to the insidious cancer that had wracked her body finally overwhelmed it at the end of July. The end to her tungsten struggle came with dignity and respect, and with grief and loss. We had already planned a holiday with Auntie Sue in the Canaries, before Granny took a final turn for the worse. In the circumstances, we considered simply binning the trip. But given that Sue had come over for her Mum's funeral, we felt returning with her for a week of family-focused relaxation might just be the boost our collective serotonin levels would need. The funeral was an epic of its kind. As befits a life full of love, friendship, selflessness and good humour, Granny’s final appearance at the Church she adored was played out before a packed hous...

Summertime rolls, as Jane’s Addiction sharply observed back in 1988. I don’t think they were talking about picnic provisions. The season always seems to kick on with haste, leaving moments, events and experiences struggling for attention in its dusty trail. Already the glittering World Cup in Brazil seems like a distant memory as the papers revert to transfer gossip and manager mind-game-mongering. In football terms, the tournament will be remembered as a success. We enjoyed more goals scored than in any of the previous Finals; witnessed some electrifying skill (Van Persie’s arched back header will live long in the memory); confirmed a new generation of talent (Rodriguez looks sublime) and marvelled at vibrant, emotional, spine tingling support from the home nation. And the best team won. RVP makes his mark Brazil’s problems won’t go away because of this success. The controversial investment in this World Cup and 2016’s Olympic Games at the perceived expense of local job...

No update since June. This is a disgrace and entirely accounted for by the pasting my gang took at Royal Ascot. Gubbed, if we are to borrow some Commonwealth Games vernacular. Only Mind of Madness and Telescope troubled the scoresheet. The former in a place capacity only, after a tame earlier effort in the Windsor Castle; the latter, in tremendous style, in the Hardwicke. I had a decent bet so some ground was reclaimed. Without him I’d have been close to 40 points down. As it was I ran away with a 15 point deficit overall, thinking I’d absconded with the Crown Jewels. The Royal meeting is so tough. The losers included Aljamaheer, Roudee, Es Que Love (twice), Toofi, Cock Of The North and Tiggy Wiggy. Only the last named could really claim a hard luck story. After this, some new blood was sought. Roudee was scratched. Euro Charline, Nafaqa, American Hope and Ray Ward were added on the basis of decent efforts over the Ascot jamboree. Smidge of aftertiming here as all six have...