Bitter as the Gall

Charlton 2 Fulham 2


Alan Pardew continues to play Santa, and checks his transfer-window wish list.

My last blog was written, in line with the founding philosophy and therefore the nomenclature, late at night, or early in the morning, according to your lights. And it spent what was left of the night with the title 'Hopes and Fears', which I had applied to the heading at the commencement. However, before I actually got to the end of writing it, I found out about Charlton's new manager, and added a paragraph or two, and changed the caption on the Christmas picture to reflect the arrival of the new boss, and then I went to bed.

As is my custom on Madrid Nights, I always have another look at what I have written in the cold light of, er... noon, mostly, and in the case of the last piece, I made a lot of changes, corrected a couple of errors and the like, and then I remembered what fun it had been last year to give every piece during the 12 days of Christmas the name of a carol, and then try to bend whatever I was writing about to fit. You can check last year's archive if you have a mind to, but as Charlton were not doing all that well at the time (plus ça change) I was able to make use of titles such as In the Bleak Midwinter, and then when Charlton recorded that fine 2-0 victory over West Ham on New Year's Day, Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.

Thus, in the light of the news about Pards, as he is apparently to be called by the usual suspects on the various Charlton websites (see Frankie et al, links top right), I changed the humdrum 'Hopes and Fears', to the name of a favourite carol of mine, which was apparently written by two clergymen from New England round about 1849.

I also announced that I would try and emulate my feat of title-giving, this year, but and oh, how prudent, added that if this proved to be impossible, I would use internal lines from carols. And this is what I have done, here, after Fulham's late equaliser, courtesy of a ludicrous decision by the absurd Graham Poll, robbed Charlton of what sounded like three well-deserved points. I am not going into details here, as the Inspector has them.

However it is indicative of the atmosphere among the aforementioned usual suspects that, despite not going to join all the other football fans at the pub for the live game (our beloved landlady reported one day last year that precisely none of them turned up when a Charlton fixture was featured - and it was against Chelsea as well), I sat here at the computer and followed the BBC live updates page, which adds a few descriptive lines of the match and updates every two minutes. I only meant to check the starting line-ups at first, and then retire to bed with a good book (it was a very cold night) for the duration, and was indeed on the point of so doing when Bent equalised after 19 minutes, So I hung on and then by half time the score was 2-1, where it stayed, right up to the 94th minute (no one knows where Mr Poll got that number from, either, if it was he who decided this), just when I was promising myself a small bottle of cava to celebrate.

So the title, from the third verse of The Holly and the Ivy, explains itself.


Late news: Atypically, I am writing this in the morning, having begun around 9.50, and as I near the end, I discover that Charlton have just signed China captain Zheng Zhi on loan till the end of the season, and are quite likely to adopt homeless Hearts captain Steven Pressley, too, once that much-anticipated window opens, er, tomorrow?

So, two new captains. All Charlton need to do now is sign Mrs Freeman's cat (for very much older listeners).