I’m absolutely not the only one, but I am not enjoying life at the moment. This being stuck at home business is tiresome. Necessary, but tiresome.
I have been working from home since the afternoon of 12th March, the day after Kingstonian’s loss at home to Cheshunt. My company is actually very good, and I’ve been able to do 100% of my tasks at home thanks to the glories of modern technology.
Having said that, I don’t like it, and, in recent days I do feel a bit claustrophobic. In theory, because of my Type 2 diabetes and (let’s be blunt) the fact that I am a very fat person, I cannot leave the house for any reason until the second week in July. This is due to a 12 week quarantine as dictated by the NHS due to the reasons I’ve just mentioned. The only time I do go out (even though I shouldn’t), is to walk about 400 yards to the corner shop to stock up on stuff (usually stuff that I shouldn’t be buying if I want to control my diabetes…) and then walk about 400 yards back.
For someone who quite often doesn’t really want to go anywhere and can be supremely lazy when it comes to wanting to travel, I have a completely itchy backside, I am beginning to yearn for a holiday or a weekend away, or…sod it, I miss the football.
I was rather tired near what became the end of the season, I was absolutely running out of puff and was beginning to look forward to the end of April and the end of the 2019-20 campaign. It had been fun, but I was now getting thoroughly irritated by certain matters and needed a break before I snapped. Now, I am impatient for non-league football to begin the 2020-21 season and equally for the Premier League to finish the 2019-20 season.
But the impatience is completely balanced by a feeling that things are being rushed. Quite rightly, we’ve heard absolutely nothing about the future plans at non-league level for the 2020-21 season – indeed we have no idea when or even if the 2019-20 FA Trophy and FA Vase tournaments will be completed, but it looks like the FA Premier League may well get going again next month.
As regular readers will know, I am a rabid Liverpool supporter and naturally I am a bit more than utterly desperate for them to win two games and win their first English title since 1990. Yet, I feel uncomfortable with sport beginning to return whilst people are still dying in large numbers from a disease that is, let’s face it, not well understood. Watford’s fine forward Troy Deeney has today said that he will not be training, as has been allowed with restrictions by the Premier League from today onwards, as he is afraid of passing this disease to his family.
It is an indictment of the way things are that firstly some thoroughly uncaring swines are criticizing Troy for his views (modern life means having to be afraid of having an opinion for fear of being viciously abused by people armed with keyboards – I know there’s an irony in that comment as I am currently typing something using one of these weapons), but also that I have a thorough respect and admiration for the guy for being brave enough to put his head above the parapet to make what on the face of it seems to be a thoroughly sensible view in that he wants to safeguard his health and his family’s health (pretty decent reasons if you ask me), and the criticism of him is absolutely baffling and unnecessary.
Don’t get me wrong, I am desperate for sport to return, I am desperately desperate for Liverpool to win the title, I will watch the games and races, etc., when they happen. I will celebrate Liverpool’s title in my own inimitable fashion if it happens (usually hiding in a dark corner and crying) and I will not put an asterisk against the title win if it happens like some people (usually non-Liverpool supporters) will. I miss seeing Liverpool games, I miss the cricket, the motor sport, the baseball, the rugby, the golf, the cycling, I am looking forward so much to my favourite sports returning, but I just hope that things are not being rushed and my concerns are unfounded.
In the meantime, we wait to see what happens to the 2020-21 season for Kingstonian. Perhaps it will start on time, perhaps it will be a little late, perhaps it will be very late and actually be a 2021 season starting in January, perhaps we even have to wait until the 2021-22 season for a return, who knows? I sure as heck don’t, and people making predictions as to what’s going to happen are simply chucking spaghetti at the wall in the hope that something will stick. As difficult as it is, we must be patient as basically we have no other choice.
Hopefully, the next time I get around to typing something, there will actually be something to type about that’s not about sitting in the living room of a second floor flat in Roundshaw that has a view of two roofs and that’s about it. Keep safe, people.