A Pair of Size Elevens

The Sixteenth of May Two Thousand and Twelve. Wednesday.

I hate shoe shopping. I'm not blessed with any sort of fashion sense, so I have no idea what I'm supposed to be wearing. As long as it's comfortable and keeps my socks from getting dirty I'm happy.

With summer ostensibly just around the corner I thought I'd better buy myself something a bit lighter to wear on my feet instead of the steel-capped work shoes that form my regular footwear. I think I'm still a vegetarian, so if I'm buying shoes I try to avoid leather. I keep saying I'll go for a pair of vegan Doc Marten's one day, but have you seen how much they are? No, I utilise the time honoured mathematical formula of working out how many pairs of cheaper shoes I would get through in the time a decent, better-made pair would last. I think I've got the ratio just about in my favour.

Here's the canvas whatnots I bought today:

Not that I'm superstitious, but apparently it's bad luck to put new shoes on a table. With this in mind I rooted out my ironing board (don't think I've actually done any ironing this year, yet) and put them on that instead. I'm not sure what sort of luck that will bring - probably wrinkle free.

(As an aside, I think they're on the Wii again upstairs. There's a lot of noise and my windows are squeaking and everything and there are no sex sounds so I think it's all video game related)

So that's me shoes sorted out for the next six months or so. But, much like the proverbial bus of legend, you wait for one pair of shoes and another turns up at the same time!

I was sat on my perch at work, explaining the restrictions on a Super Off Peak Return ticket to a random bystander when I was offered a pair of shoes by my colleague. They were his father's, the late and sorely missed John Clough (station supervisor par excellence and founder of Clough Trains Northern). Brand new work shoes in my size, they were on offer if I wanted them. As I said, I hate shoe shopping so to be presented with a pair as a feet accompli (Ay thang yew!) was too good an opportunity to turn down. Here's what they look like:

Haven't put the ironing board away yet, so I thought I'd use it again. Flash shows up how lovely and shiny they are. Yes, they're leather. Yes, I'm a hypocrite. But for work nothing else is really suitable.

It's a bit odd wearing shoes that belonged to someone who has since passed on. I once took a trip around Europe in a pair of Nike flip-flops that were once worn by a deceased uncle of mine. But that's another story (just imagine the Eiffel Tower, the Peggy Guggenheim in Venice, the Atomium and the Temple Bar and you'll have a vague idea of what transpired).

I did have a pair of jet black Converse once. They were pretty cool.

More soonliest.

City 'Til I Die

The Fifteenth of May Two Thousand and Twelve. Tuesday.

What qualifies you as a football fan? Anybody can say they follow a team. What do you have to do to be allowed to bathe in the reflected glory of 'your' team's success? When are you a proper fan?

I haven't been to a City match in years. The last time was for my one and only visit to the Etihad/City of Manchester Stadium/Eastlands once for a rather dour goalless draw against Birmingham City. A bit of googling has filled in the details - it was on the 8 February 2004. I remember now, I took my dad for his birthday.

Ah, dad. With your tales of Bell, Summerbee and Lee. You painted me blue in a town of red devils (Salford RLFC being the original Red Devils, of course...) I can't blame you entirely - going against the popular tide appealed to my outsider mentality. But it was a bit rough at times. Losing the FA Cup. Losing the pigging Full Members Cup (remember that?) Relegation to the third tier of English football.

But it's ace being a City fan. It's funny and strange and stupid. Football might not be a huge thing in my life, but funny, strange and stupid are, so City are a perfect fit. This blog isn't about my experiences with the men in sky blue, though. It's about my claim to the glory of the fact that Manchester City are the 2011/12 league champions.

I had a chance to go to the FA cup semi-final last year (you know, the one against United, that we won on our way to winning our first trophy in 35 years) but turned it down as I had a long standing family commitment. There were more important things in my life than football.

So am I a fan? What right have I to wave my inflatable banana in triumph eight years after going to my last game? Is it enough to say I stood in the Kippax in front of Curly Watts 25 years ago?

Yes, and I'll tell you for why.

I never gave up.

I kept on listening and hoping until the final whistle. I couldn't believe the reports of people who were leaving the ground while there was still five minutes to play! I watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory on Sunday for the first time in years. There's a line in there where Charlie says he should have a golden ticket because he wants it more than anyone else in the world. Didn't these people want the championship? Why did they give up? I know nothing about football - tactics and all that - but I know that. I really, really wanted it, and that is why, after all these years, I can have it.

There's a lot I don't like about football - the money, the corruption, the homophobia, the thugs like Joey Barton - to the point where I considered giving up on it now that the pain of my childhood had been erased. But that would be throwing the baby out with the bath water - you can't just ignore the joy that comes when those negatives are overcome. So I'm afraid I'm City 'til I die.

Hmm, too much introspection. Let's have a fashion parade. Way back last year I detailed two of the City kits I had as a boy. Here are the kits currently in my possession:

Ah, this is an old favourite of mine - the replica of the 1969 FA cup winning shirt. Had this years. Was a lot thinner when I first got it. Little bit tight now (harrumph).

Hmm, not sure what season this one's from, but at least it still fits.

Kappa away kit from 1999. I think they must have worn this twice at most because (and I'm not an expert here) having blue in your home and away kit means it's not much use as a change strip. Most of the time they used that blue and fluorescent yellow striped thing that starred in the play-off final against Gillingham. You know, this one:

Yes, my friends. Never forget that Sergio Aguero is the modern day Paul Dickov!

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