Sunday 27th July 2025

It may be hard for some people to believe, but some days there can be just too much sport on TV.

Take Sunday, there was the last day of the 4th test between England and India, the Belgian Grand Prix from Spa, the final stage to Le Tour and the final of the women's Euros.

All on at pretty much the same time.

I have not watched motor racing in over two decades, and live Test Match Cricket since 2005, so it was going to be a toss up between the cycling and kicky ball.

We were up pretty early, the cats fed, coffee drunk. But I saw we didn't have enough fruit for breakfast, but instead of waiting until Tesco opened, I suggested going out for breakfast.

We went into town and found the car park already three quarters full, and once we were in Chaplins, found just one table free.

A cruise ship has docked, and so the wait between ordering our food and it coming was enlivened by bus-loads of mainly American tourists being dropped into town.

As the bus left, you could them, standing around looking at DDC's worst plans made real, and them thinking, is this it?

Breakfast came, and was good. We are so regular here now, the waitress knows our order before we say it.

Not much else to do, so once finished we go back to the car and drive back home, along Townwall Street, now not clogged with traffic, then home.

Back home I mow the lawnmeadow, then after thinking about it, rake the thatch up. But my mind baulked at the scarifying tool. So, we decided to buy a machine instead, to make it easier.

That's arriving on Monday.

I sit on the patio with Scully, watching the birds and beers, me sipping from an ice cold bottle of Leffe.

Which I discover is now brewed in the UK, so will not be buying that again.

Come three in the afternoon, and the cycling starts. So, I settle down to watch it, and with the addition of three climbs up to Sacré-Cœur up the narrow cobbled streets of Montmartre, I decided to watch that until the end, and tape England v Spain to watch once the cycling was finished.

The cycling was brilliant, and doubly so the new climb. The race was won by my favourite rider, Wout van Aert, who found new reserves of strength to outclimb Tadej Pogačar on the second climb, then being the best descender, opened up a large lead, which he kept through the last circuit.

Then over to the footy. The game had nearly finished, or should have, but I started from kick off, sipping a pint of Taddy Porter and munching chilli nuts as Spain took the lead, then England levelled early in the second half.

Due to a glitch in the i player, I had seen the score with 5 minutes to go in extra time, so the only unknown was those last five minutes.

No goals scored, so went to penalties.

And unlike the England men, there was never any doubt with Spain scoring just one spot kick, so England ran out 3-1 winners.

Let the celebration, and tears, begin.