Mother's Day

I checked in with the Inspector's page (see helpful links, at right) last evening, to see if he had anything to say about Charlton's upcoming game against Newcastle later on, and found myself witnessing a minor tragedy. Obviously you can check it out yourselves, but to save you the bother, the gist of it is that several weeks ago, possibly inspired by Charlton visiting there pre-season, the Inspector decided to treat himself to a short spring break in Valencia, and went on line to check prices and dates, and came up with a great wheeze: he would take in Charlton's game against Newcastle on the Saturday, fly to Valencia on Sunday afternoon and be there in time for the Valencia - Santander match on Sunday evening. Perfect; two football matches (or ‘battles', as the mass media would have it) and a few days away.

For 19 March, tomorrow as ever is, is the date set for Valencia to go gay (in the old fashioned sense of the word) and celebrate its very existence with a non-stop display of fireworks, floats, booze and all the usual paraphernalia of a Spanish fiesta. The Valencia celebrations are known as the fallas, and I assume The Inspector knew what he was letting himself in for when he booked his flights, for, during the fallas, sleep is not a commodity which is readily available, as the bangers, crackers and rattles go on being deployed right through the night. Spanish people adore noise, you see. I myself don't, in spite of having lived here for more than thirty years, nor do I understand why they do, but there; not for me to question the ways of my adopted homeland.

But here's the tragic bit. Spanish TV puts out two games every Saturday night, and these are selected quite late on to assure that the more interesting ones figure. Now looking at this weekend's fixtures, Valencia - Santander doesn't look all that exciting, and yet it was selected to be shown at 7 o'clock yesterday. A stroke of genius, as totally against the form book, in-form Valencia crashed 0-2 to what the British media would describe as lowly Santander, thus commencing the ruination of my work-syndicate's pools coupon for this weekend. And then on top of that, also for televisual reasons, Charlton's game against Newcastle was switched to this afternoon at 1.30, when The Inspector will be on the plane. So instead of two games, he ends up with nothing.

But there has been a fair amount of bitter wailing on the various Charlton blogs and message boards, too, as the caprice of the television industry lands the Charlton - Newcastle match slap in the middle of Mother's Day.

My understanding of what this day is really all about dates back to a mid-sixties episode of The Archers, when Doris Archer was explaining to a young member of her family that the fourth (?) Sunday in Lent is Mothering Sunday, and it was when servant girls working in big houses were allowed to travel home and visit their mothers for the day. It was not meant to be an excuse for everyone who was a mother to be feted, taken out for lunch, bought large boxes of chocolates and sent huge cards bedecked with bits of satin.

But unfortunately for Frankie, and a lot more Charlton fans (and Newcastle fans too, perhaps) all mothers demand their due on this day, and woe betide anyone who objects to taking the missus out rather than popping down to SE7. And, as Frankie quite reasonably points out, his wife isn't even his mother, anyway.

So what will the lads be missing? It seems that Lisbie missed an open goal at Watford and Charlton had to settle for 2-2, although they had been 0-2 down for most of the time, so maybe the much-vaunted revival is not so certain as it looked after the West Ham game. This revival also rather depended on teams like Manchester City and the aforementioned West Ham continuing to sink into the mire, and yet both achieved unexpected away wins at higher-rated opposition yesterday - the first time in my life I've been sorry that Blackburn Rovers lost.

However, apparently Lawro (haven't checked this myself) thinks that Charlton are on for a 2-0 win; but it is feared that they will be without Darren Bent, who is injured again, or so people are assuming in the wake of the news that Preston's David Nugent might be (or by now might have been) called up for the England squad. It all seems to me that Charlton have a long way to go. And with neither The Inspector nor Frankie to cheer them on, things could get tricky.

My excuses for not having added a piece to the blog these past two weeks are the usual ones: pressure of work (those February exams) and the wretched cough and cold which in common with a high percentage of Madrid's population, I cannot shake off. I have, however, only missed one quiz, in late January, and am happy to report that it is in good shape, with lots of regular attenders and some new teams. As is the case with new teams, they haven't made much of an impression on the stranglehold of the three regulars. We ourselves are having a fairly useful 2007, having recorded two high-scoring victories (154 and 153) in the past few weeks, and our old friends the OFs, reinforced for operational reasons by both Rory and Edu, managed 153 in their victory last Monday, and even then one of them had the nerve to be triumphalist about what had been their first win in weeks. We have been without Sam, too, on a number of occasions, owing to family commitments, when he has been replaced by our new colleague Lesley, who has fitted in well.

As mentioned above, 19 March in Valencia is fallas, but in the church calendar it is the feast day of Saint Joseph, foster father of the infant Jesus. So when Spain was looking about for a suitable day to use as Father's Day, 19 March was what they chose, and so this year the English Mother's Day is immediately before Spanish Father's Day. And don't Spanish mothers have a day? I hear you cry. They do indeed, it is the first Sunday in May, the month of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Anyway, to all you mothers, or at least those where Mothering Sunday equates with Mother's Day, I hope you enjoy the accolades you feel you deserve, and while I am on the topic of congratulations, reiterated ones to my old friend Harry for his birthday yesterday, and to his two sons for theirs during the past week.

I leave you with a fascinating bit of news, a real scoop, from the BBC sports page a week or two ago:

Chelsea manager Jose Mourinho was spotted taking his children for a burger in the MacDonald's in Clacton.

Terrific stuff.