Summer of Sport

It's hard to be a television blogger when you are in the middle of a football World Cup because there ain't a right lot on telly apart from what some term the beautiful game. Which this summer I just can't bring myself to care about, for some reason. The England team plane landed with an offer from the pilot to just keep the engines running (see Private Eye) so there's no point getting too hopeful about any great sporting achievement from our end of things. (Two matches lost as I write.)

It's possibly partly because in York, we are entirely focused on preparing for the Tour de France which will be cycling through our city (and right past the end of our street) on Sunday July 6th. There are yellow bikes, bunting, poor French puns and knitted jerseys all over town. I have even less knowledge of cycling than I do of football, and as far as I am concerned Lance Armstrong has left a pretty big scar slashed right across the sport, but it's hard not to get swept along by such a big event happening right on our doorstep.

Anyway, the fact remains that the television schedules are entirely clogged up with footie and football punditry (I'm sorry, Newcastle, but Alan Shearer in full drone is fairly close to what I imagine torture by THE WORLD'S MOST BORING MAN would be like) during the hours that I am free to view them. Alternatives on offer involve documentaries about missing planes, fostering and mobility scooters, none of which have really led me to much writing inspiration. The missing Malaysian Airways flight MH370 has of course a poignant right to a place on a blog about travel, but I cannot even begin to comprehend what torment and tragedy those passengers and their families have faced and I feel it would be inappropriate to make any comment here.

So in the evenings I've picked up my book and started going out for long walks instead. Hardly a bad thing.

And everything I ever had to say about football has already been said, when I went to see Brazil play New Zealand at the Olympics in 2012.