The real Walter Mondale

It's all there, the picture from 1984. Our namesake is talking to a lone fisherman. Big Ron is gladhandling thousands of happy shiny types whilst our friend Walter is just hangin with a fisherman. I wonder where he is now?
And by the way, Big Ron may have won in 1984 but where is he now?
Looks like Walter is laughing last.

Quiz time.

It's a busy time for me as I'm off on vacation in a couple of days time. Here's a quiz for you to amuse yourself with. Answers in a few days.
1. Who won the FA Cup in 1973?
2. Who replaced Robert Macnamara as Sec of defence in 1967?
3. The Magpies is the nickname of which English football team?
4. "Oh, I am so bored with it all" were the last words of which British Prime minister?
5. Spiro Agnew was Governor of which state?
6. Which london Bridge lies between Westminster and Vauxhall bridge?
7. 18th President of the USA?
8. The Prince of Wales' birthday?
9. 3+6=?
10. Freya was the Norse god of what?
11. The A train runs from where to where?
12. Richard Nixon's middle name?
13. LBJ's dog was called?
14. "Oh Lord and master of mankind...." complete the next line of this old hymn.
15. My cat has a nickname, what is it?
16. In the offical classification of icebergs, what name is given to the smallest type of iceberg?
17. How much protein (in grams) is in a Macdonalds Big Mac?
18. In the 2000 Presidential election Tennessee went Democrat or Republican?
19. There are eight IVY league universities, name four of them.
20. Describe, in your own words, a recent sensation of 'ennui'.

There you go, you have half an hour, no talking.
Answers in a few days.

The end of facial hair.

It's all gone now. There was just to much emotional baggage linked with growing a beard.
There was the kid in my home town who took acid and then his mum died mysteriously and then he flunked out of University and went mad and still wanders the streets asking for cigarettes in between getting beaten up by local hicks, he has a beard.
Then there was my nemesis in teaching college who took one look at me and thought "shit, you're just shit". He did everything within his power to fail me and destroy my fledgling teaching career. For nine weeks he made my life hell. He had a beard.
Added to which i kept seeing wierd people in the street with crappy facial hair. Plus the fact that I'm blonde and beards don't really work on blonde people.
I toyed with the idea of a Piazza/Nascar goatee but by god you shouda seen it (OOOOH! slack jawed yokel alert).
So i'm clean for Kerry/Edwards and it's all the way with LBJ.

Endless suffering II. Some good news.

OK, I just got some good news that I thought you, my blog faithful would like to hear.
My sporting spirits have been lifted by some news from The UK.
It seems that my five year old neice Eleanor is something of a sporting champion.
She won her kindergarten sports day "beat the keeper" (penalty kicks) competition with a straight sweep of five consecutive goals. Well done girl!
As well as this, she smashed (that's right, Smashed) the Browick Road Infants School bowling record. The record stood at 24 and had done so for years. Eleanor's score? 40.
So, there's hope for the future.

Facial hair.

It's summer, It's growing.
I'm in great doubt about it.
I look like a German sailor from WW2.

Endless suffering.

A passion for football runs deep in my family. My father was a noble center forward playing for a number of quality amateur sides from the 1950s through to the mid 1970s, my brother was a handy player, I just turned up and hurt people. My enthusiasm bloomed vicariously upon the terraces at Carrow Road, home of Norwich City, the Canaries. This interest has followed me across the Atlantic where I have been fortunate to follow the far away fortunes of Norwich City as they scaled the mighty heights. I have also been able to endure the joy but mostly pain and self loathing of watching England's latest European campaign. Dan Bookham sent me an article the other day,The article was concerned about the rise of new footballing nations, the non superpower brigade. It seems that with the decline of once great footballing nations such as Germany, Italy, dare I say it,even England there are some new kids on the block and they are pushing their way noisily to the fore. The article makes claims that globalization is now affecting football and that as a result the smaller nations, with their doubtless quality are able to take on any number of 'big boys'. This hurts. I have just one point to make. Why can't I follow a team (and remember, I have no choice in this, such support was chosen for me, by birth) that hits the right note, at the right time, in the right place? Why must I always be the bridesmaid at these things? I mean, don't get me wrong, we never even really got close this time but why not just let us have a little bit of glory just once? I remember the then England captain Bryan Robson telling us all how sick he was of looking at photographs of that swinging summers afternoon in 1966, the last and only time that England have ever won anything of significance, he was hoping to place that picture in it's proper historical perspective by bringing home the world cup. He was writing this in 1986.
OK, I know that this is a rant. I should be grateful. Norwich are in the Premiership after 9 often mediocre years in Division one (the Championship as it's now been rebranded). I have a great life, lovely wife etc, etc.
But just once, that's all I ask.