Twitter is a wonderful community. Sometimes it’s pretty harsh. A sort of car-crash, can’t look away kind of harsh.

Michael Owen was back commentating this afternoon and most people aren’t huge fans. I’ve tweeted about how poor his commentary can be before, albeit not in the form of some of the tweets below.

It ranged from the observant…

To the honest…

To the downright mean…

If you can’t say anything nice… 🙂


My Favourite Albums #2: The End Of History – Fionn Regan

I think this is actually my favourite album… I always come back to it. It never gets old. I wish I could have made it. Or written one of the songs. Or a line from one of the verses.

It’s perfect.

She will not let you be her lover.
She goes out looking for the taxi.
Her phone is ringing straight to message minder.
Send out a battalion to find her.

My Favourite Albums #2: The End Of History – Fionn Regan

Everything Is… OK

Late last year I went to a physio. I’d been getting regular injuries at football. Sore ankle here, groin strain there. Small stuff. It seemed like a pretty normal things to happen to a man of a certain age, but I wanted to get it looked at.

To my surprise the physio took me aside at the start of my second session and said:

“I think there might be something wrong here… Neurologically.”

What then followed was several months of freaking out, appointments and diagnosis. Followed by more freaking out.

I had a lump on my Cauda Equina. That was what was causing everything. The surgeons at the wonderful Royal Victoria Hospital recommended excision.

We cut you and take it out.

We. Cut. You. And. Take. It. Out. 😦

There were risks both ways. Left unchecked it could cause some scary issues. These were also the issues that could happen if the op went wrong.

For months I’ve been worried. It’s occupied a lot of brain real estate. The op was two weeks ago. Things are looking pretty great.

Everything Is… OK.

I am thankful.

Everything Is… OK