Who needs tech?

My bathroom scales are on the blink. Or they were. Electronic ones. I step on them and a message appears on the mini screen: "O-Ld". What? Overload? Come on, I may have been snacking too much during lockdown but that's ludicrous. Maybe it's a zero, not O. So maybe it means "zero liked". It's possible     it doesn't speak English so perhaps it's "me no like...". Me no like what? Or whom?

Have my scales been hacked? GCHQ checking I've been getting exercise?

Wait, maybe it's "Oiled". It needs oil? Off I go my local garage, which has finally opened after lockdown. I met the owner recently in Lidl; he was bemoaning having to pay rent throughout the closure, even though no income. Puts my bathroom scales problem in perspective.

Anyway I did what you always do if your computer goes weird - switch it off then back on. Only there isn't a switch, or a reset button, so I take out the batteries and re-insert them. No different. Obviously therefore it's the batteries. So I buy new ones and insert them. No different. Money wasted.

Off to Asda. Face mask on. Mechanical bathroom scales £4. Bargain. No problem. Check out lady advises me to keep the  receipt in case they are faulty. Don't bother, I'll buy another one. Although not a £4 one if that doesn't last.

Anyone need four 3 volt batteries, shaped as circular discs?

The Cold Blooded Hearts

How many football managers are rock stars? Or even look like rock stars? There are plenty who fancy themselves as style icons but not so many with rugged rock star hair, hairy chest and smoldering looks (think Rod Stewart). So all hail Gareth Ainsworth, long-serving manager of the mighty Wycombe Wanderers, aka the Chairboys. He is the longest serving manager, at 7½ years, in the top four divisions of English football (the average tenure is about 20 minutes).

Ainsworth is lead singer and songwriter of The Cold Blooded Hearts. Their latest effort The Wanderer is available on Spotify. It's cheesy country and western stuff. Great for a night out in High Wycombe (ask my sons about that).

Everyone has a nickname in football. His is Wild Thing.

Adebayo Akinfenwa is another wild thing. Also, like Ainsworth, a cult figure. He is Wycombe's centre forward (the modern usage "striker" might be a bit of a misnomer for him) and the word "figure" is apt; he weighs in at 16 stone (101 Kg), so says the purveyor of truth known as Wikipedia, and can bench press (whatever that means) 200 Kg. He roams around the football field like King Kong. Sprinting is not his thing but frightening opposing defenders (and sometimes his own teammates) definitely is. You have to play the ball to his feet. Do not expect him to jump. Do not expect him to run in behind defenders. Get the ball onto his chest and he will hold it up until teammates arrive to help him out i.e. take the ball from him and plonk it in the net. Don't expect him to run to the corner flag to join in the celebrations. But when his team scored the decisive goal tonight, even he was part of a huge scrum of flailing Wycombe bodies. I pitied whoever was underneath him; they may not be ready for next Monday's final.

Wycombe Wanderers are in League One and tonight  they fought their way through to the Play Off Final at Wembley Stadium. In normal times I'd definitely be up for the trip there. Unfortunately fans are not allowed at the moment. Boris, could you make an exception?

Somehow The Chairboys (High Wycombe is a furniture town) seems a rather feeble moniker for this burly group of lads. We really need something more gritty. Suggestions?

Brunel's bridge

I had to drive to Plymouth today. Over the Tamar bridge. £2 toll. Who gets that? Devon and Cornwall councils? Lanes closed for maintenance, so I guess that answers the question.

On the way back I love the sight of Brunel's magnificent bridge, over which the trains between London and Penzance trundle gently. Clearly there is a speed limit but why? If it's dangerous, I'd have thought the quicker you get over it the better. I've often wondered this on the train, rather like worrying on a plane about how it stays up.

The bridge was built in 1859 but actually looks modern. It reminds me of the Pompidou Centre with its tubes. Brunel of course was the Chief Engineer of the Great Western Railway. Which is a pretty good legacy. Well done, bro. (I'm not the kind of person who ever uses "bro" but I'm practising for my streaming)

Isambard Kingdom Brunel. Now there's a name for you. Were these common 19th century forenames? Actually his father had Isambard as a second name; his mother's maiden name was Kingdom. Apparently Isambard is a word of Norman origin but the all-knowing Mr Google couldn't offer me more than four Isambards, all of whom were connected to the Brunels. So just a bit quirky.

I have memories of Plymouth. The only time I have ever had a speeding fine was a few years ago, coming back from a poker tournament in Plymouth at 3am. The road is littered with 50mph stretches, many of which are cunningly positioned at the bottom of hills in order to catch out motorists and maximise the council's income. I don't recall whether I was elated after a good win or furious over a bad beat but my concentration slipped for a moment. A few days later the dreaded letter arrived - pay £60 or attend a Mickey Mouse course. Protection racket. Given that I had never previously been accused of speeding and knew perfectly well how to avoid exceeding speed limits (drive slower), I paid up. And remembered it ever since.

Canadian Cornwall

I was Googling something and noticed that there is a place in Canada called Cornwall. Did you know that? I didn't.

Cornwall is a town in Ontario, famous for, er, call centres. Seriously? Nothing better? "Do they eat pasties and cream teas?" I hear you ask. Always thinking of your stomach. But a fair question. Perhaps my Canadian readers can enlighten us. There is an annual Pastyfest in Calumel, Michigan, so maybe the answer is yes. (I do know Michigan isn't in Canada, BTW)

Famous son of Cornwall, Ontario? Ryan Gosling. On up for all you La La Land fans. [Ed: Ryan tells me he has made 30 other movies so don't pigeonhole him]

geotargit.com tells me there are 14 places in the world called Cornwall. One is in Tasmania. I've been to Tassie but didn't notice that (it only has 65 residents so easy to miss). Another is in Jamaica. The rest are towns in the US. Cornwall County, Jamaica (Kaanwal Kounti in Patois or Creole) includes the city of Montego Bay.

In contrast there are 1,716 San Joses in the world. But that feels like cheating.

Cornish miners, farmers and preachers spread Cornish placenames throughout the world. For instance there is a Looe in the Philippines (cut the cheap jokes, boys!)

I once attempted to complete a competition to visit every pub owned by St Austell Brewery. There are currently 170 of them so it's not surprising I failed. Also not surprising that I put on weight. 14 Cornwalls seems like a doddle in comparison, especially as I'm one up already.

Off I go.See you in Jamaica!

Drinks breaks

The latest footballing innovation (fad) is the drinks break. Since football restarted, it seems our fainthearted heroes are unable to run about for the usual 45 minutes in the summer heat so, come 22 and a half minutes, they stop the game and have a guzzle. Did no-one tell them about British summers? Pouring rain, 13 degrees, gasping for a drink. Of what? Is it something performance enhancing? Stimulants? Gin  and tonic?

Obviously the managers take the opportunity for a quick coaching session. Occasionally the drink or the coaching seems to make a difference.

Other sports have drinks breaks. Tennis players are unable to go more than about 5 minutes without a sit down, towelling and glugging. I have known croquet players to have a pint sitting on the grass beside their chair whilst waiting for their turn. No names, no pack drill. It gives the player a sense of freedom. I imagine.

Professional golfers are always under pressure to walk quickly between holes and shots, so they drink on the go. Why can't footballers do that? They have sanitised balls around the edge of the pitch ready for throw-ins so why not drinks bottles too? Then no breaks. Who'd want to be a central midfielder though? You get thirsty and drift towards the side line and your manager bellows "where are you going? Get back in place".

If you have to have drinks breaks, this seems like an ideal opportunity for sponsorship. Everything else is sponsored - shirt fronts, shirt sleeves, boots, sports drinks, courtesy cars. Golfers have sponsored caps, cricketers have sponsored protective equipment (of all kinds). Croquet, not so much. Why not sponsored drinks breaks? "Take a break, have a Proper Job". Better than  Kit Kat.

Co-parenting

I wanted to talk about football (groan) but got stuck not knowing how to describe my daughter-in-law's father. Trevor is definitely a dear friend but am I actually related to him?

The thing is, he is one of two people I know and like that try - with some success - to wind me up by describing the Premier League as the First Division and the league that Ipswich Town are in - League One - as the Third Division. This nomenclature went out in 1992, guys! Are you old or just annoying?

Anyhow, barracking aside, what relation, if any, is Trevor to me?

Applying a degree of logic: first of all we are the same generation so normally that would mean some kind of brother or cousin. Maybe brother-in-law-in-law? I've never understood the concepts of first/second cousins or once/twice removed, but perhaps that could be part of the title? How about "grand-something"?

The thing about "in-law" is that there is a clear implication of a legal status. So that's out. Narrowing down.

Definitely not cousins; a legally defined term I think. No consanguinity.

Which leaves me with something like brother twice removed - one removal for down a generation, from me to my daughter-in-law - and once for up a generation from her to her father. 

"This is my brother twice removed" is therefore how I might introduce Tony - the other friend who refuses to acknowledge any football in the last 28 years - when we meet someone in the Britannia Inn (very soon hopefully). That is either a conversation piece or a conversation-stopper. Depending on how many drinks the various parties have had.

I therefore consulted Mr Jimmy Wales, aka Wikipedia. Which we know always tells the truth. This tells me that Trevor and I are co-fathers-in-law. Not sure I think much of that; it makes us sound like a couple, with responsibility for our offspring.

My solution for this problem is: brothers-in-arms. It implies shared values and a willingness to stand up for each other. I like it. I could refer you to the Dire Straits song but it really doesn't help - no hyphens. So just my word for it.

How about it, Trevor, are we brothers-in-arms?

Who knew football could be so profound?