Monday 26th January 2026

The past is a different country.

For the last few days we have been watching both the original BBC made Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy as well as a film made to commemorate The Clash playing the opening night at The Roxy, New Year's Eve 1976.

Both films showed how grim the 1970s were for most, with the wealthy and professionals driving around un luxury cars while the plebs slummed it in little ore than slums whilst working back-breaking long shifts in factories or down mines.

One section of The Clash film showed how Covent Garden market was closed down, and the communities around it withered and died, the precursor to gentrification that we saw in many parts of London, with the working poor pushed further out.

The Royal Opera lived next door to he market, and dancers mixed with costermongers in the pubs and bars around the market.

What life was there for the young and disaffected? Not much.

Play some rock and roll, live in a squat. Mick Jones described how if he wanted to continue to claim the dole, after four weeks he would be sent to a working "camp", where regular hours would be taught, all leading to the discipline of a working life. Schools taught many of us to be nothing but monkeys for the manufacturing machine.

But then the machines were closed.

But to Monday.

And to start the day, I had an appointment with a podiatrist.

I have type 2 diabetes, though I am trying to fix that with lifestyle changes, and may be on the road to that goal, but the condition means taking care of your feet.

Diabetes results in the deadening of the senses in the feet, and so you may not feel cuts or injuries sustained, so I go there now so Siobhan looks at my feet, cuts the nails and removes dead skin.

Thanks to the first appointment, my feet are much better, but more to go. But having a half eight appointment in Deal meant being out of the house early, in the middle of what counts for rush hour here, and getting into Deal, finding a place to park so to be on time.

Jools went swimming first thing, while I laid in bed. Up for a coffee, so that when Jools returned, I could leave and take my chances on the road.

Traffic was slow, but I was parked up by quarter to eight, so had time for a wander.

A change from a few months ago where I would park as close as possible and walk a less as possible.

I parked near the castle, then cut through up to the promenade and along to the pier, past the small fishing fleet all dragged up onto the beach. Not a soul about in the pre-dawn gloom.

Then walk to the High Street, and back along to the clinic, where she was already there, so I was called in early.

The verdict was, indeed, my feet are better, so after the clippings and filing, I left to walk back to the car and home.

Back home for ten past nine. I have a brew with Jools before she is off out again, to take one of her crafting friends for coffee in Deal, where she will meet friends and chat, and forget about her husband for an hour or so.

I stay home to begin preparations for our delayed Christmas lunch with Jen, as she was away when it was actually Christmas.

Potatoes peels and left to soak; beef seasoned and allowed to come to room temperature; stuffing mixed and chestnuts added; vegetables prepped and left ready to cook.

At quarter past twelve, the beef went in the oven. The joint, nearly nine pounds of prime rib (with bones, mind), just fitted in the new tin, and was soon filling the kitchen and house with glorious smells. It would take nearly three hours to cook.

Potatoes boiled, then steam dried, before being put in hot fat and cooked for nearly two hours, with regular basting, so were all golden and crispy.

There were pigs in blankets too, so once the meat was done, the vegetables put on to steam, the Yorkshire puddings put into cook, and Jools went to pick up Jen.

It was all ready at ten past three. I carve the meat and dish up the food. There is a jug of beef gravy, wine, beer too.

The ribs were done perfectly, and the outer edges crispy and full of flavour.

Due to us eating less, I couldn't eat it all, and left a Yorkshire pudding, some stuffing and a roast potato.

We were all full to bursting.

But it were good.

Jools and Jen cleared up, and then Jonathon from the builders turned up with two electricians, to finalise plans for the bathroom.

Work is now confirmed, along with colours for a walls and the new walk in shower unit.

Jools took Jen home, and once ack we sat down to watch the last two episodes of Tinker, Tailor, along with Scully asleep between us on a blanket.

That gave me half an hour before the start of the Norwich game, v Coventry.

A lot has happened since we let at their place in September. For us, a long losing run, sacking the coach and now we have a new one, and are on a roll. Coventry, meanwhile, are top of the league, top scorers, and favourites for promotion.

But they are wobbling.

Their manager, Frank Lampard Jr, wanted to be our manager back in 2021. He was interviewed, and two days later TalkSport announced he had been offered the job, other newspapers thought it a formality.

Its not that I don't like Frank, it's just he is the story wherever he goes. And instead of being Coventry City, it's Frank Lampard's Coventry City. I didn't want that for my club.

Norwich played well in the first half, though had just one shot. And shortly before half time, Cov scored. A well worked goal, shot on the turn and under our keeper.

Second half started, and we levelled straight away, and twenty minutes later scored what turned out to be the winner.

Norwich played well in and out of possession. Pressing well, and passing the ball well, sometimes riding their luck, but in the second half, so did Coventry.

Norwich had a run of four tricky games, and have won the first three of them, with Middlesborough away at the weekend. From seven points adrift from safety in November to four points above it now.

An astonishing turn round with Philippe Clement at the helm, seeing and guiding all.