Further to the last post:
1st half performance in Minsk: England are malfunctioning in midfield again, the ball is passed around with some aplomb at the back and then hoofed forward at Heskey, circumnavigating midfield, in the hope that he can hold it up for Rooney to produce the preferred outcome. Meantime Walcot tears up and down the right channel with pace, but is messy in his final delivery. A brief lead is undone by more fragility in the middle as Belarus slip the ball neatly through.
Wednesday morning: following, by now, a near 48 hour gap between toilet visits, all early hubris is undone at 9am. During a, thankfully, free period I have to undertake that hilariously familar run to the toilet - hilarious because I can only imagine what it must look like to the casual observer as I run and desperately clench my buttcheeks at the same time. What better place to indulge in this weird stiff legged run than in a school, where nobody is on the lookout for reasons to undermine you... Upon reaching said toilet something approaching a heinous McDonalds thick shake is delivered in the nick of time.
2nd half in Minsk: a little Italian jiggery-pokery at half-time sees Gerrard push forward in midfield and suddenly Belarus are on the back foot. England still regularly lose possesion, but there's menace in their attacks - even Heskey is taking on and running at defenders. Rooneys game suddenly comes alive, slick passing ensues, then goals. The last 15 minutes are a cakewalk.
Thursday morning: the toilet beckons at about 10.45. But there is no urgency or cramps. Rather that, I hesitate to say this but, 'pleasant' full colon feeling that tends to preceed a proper log. What arrives is probably best described as initially log-like and then stodgy. A hugely improved outcome.
Like I said, inconsistency. Weird.
Maybe, as I sleep, Fabio comes and talks to my bottom.
Rituals of Loss
3 months ago