Coventry

Ok not as exotic as Cairo (indeed not really as exotic as most places in the world) but its home in a way. So first weekend of my return from travels sees me going up to Coventry to watch Coventry v Leeds and see my mum.

Somehow in my absence Coventry had managed to claw their way up to 4th in the Championship so I felt I ought to see why/how. Not really any the wiser after 3-2 defeat, but the appetite for success in the city could be seen from the crowd of 28,000. Any signs of success and we all flood back, only to have hopes dashed. Actually not awful but just ok. Lots of slightly hopeful forward balls. But the main observation (especially for non-footie fans) I would make is how much more enjoyable a match is when one goes with friends. Which of course is what most people do.

Then you are in your own little group bubble and tend to notice just the general atmosphere (ie good) rather than the irritating habits of your fellow spectators. On your own the latter start to come home to roost. And not the obvious bits of swearing and invective. Just things like the girl in front being so under-dressed for the day that she was shivering and my knees against the seat in front felt like they were resting on a vibrator. Or the little kid next to me. Now if one wanted evidence of the fallibilty of our Creator it would be the lack of a volume knob on little boys. Something as small as a 7 year old should not be able to produce such a piercing sound. Any signs of a Coventry attack and the ears of every alsatian in North Warwickshire must have started to bleed. God that kid's vice needs to break soon. And then on the bus home, I ended up in the bus with the nutter. His rendition of Robbie Williams' Rock DJ to the bus will live in my memory for all the wrong reasons. High volume and so flat that I started to hanker after the shrieking 7 year old.

 But if you are watching a match with mates most of these things just fail to register. (Well the the last bloke's singing would still have done.)

But have to say I got more out of watching my friends' 15 year-old playing on Sunday morning in the park. Really high skill levels these kids have, lots of goals. But could do with a bar for half-time and some terracing. To be fair though conditions better than most of my previous attempts to watch him play when the weather felt like a monsoon hitting Antarctica. But at least I haven't paid £27 for the privilege.