© Stuart Butler
It wasn’t a geat game; no poetry in motion but Ernie Hunt equalised and he had bow legs and Swindon had a side of cool teenagers against the neaderthals and a love affair began – why? I dunno – why did I fall in love with my hometown rather than the game of football itself? In a way, it’s an obvious question with obvious answers but bobble hats off to those who manage to withstand that force of upbringing and stay neutral and objective. By the way, just read this about love by a sociologist in Steve Jones’ book “The Single Helix” – “the cognitive affective state characterised by intrusive and obsessive fantasising concerning reciprocity of amorant feeling by the object of amorance.” Hence the cry of the spurned, I suppose, “You’re not fit to wear the shirt”: again, a very good article by Russell Brand in the Guardian on this theme this week-end. Right, that’s it – now into the home of the enemy (Bristol City) for youngest daughter’s 18th birthday lunch.