Qatar World Cup

When the award was made, a decade since, I was incandescent, contemptuous, convinced that FIFA’s corrupt core had finally imploded. It’ll never happen, I told all who’d listen.

It is happening, albeit seasonally rearranged to avoid the impossible summer heat and in air-conditioned stadia. A week before, I described to those interested, my attitude to Qatar 2022 as – disengaged – certainly ill-prepared. For the first time in 56 years, no wall chart is up and ready.

The wrong time of year in the wrong place. The country’s list of shortcomings larger than most, including the reluctance to use the letter U when required.

But now, as the group stages conclude in exciting climaxes, I am, inevitably, engaged.

[Authentic selfie - 1 December 2022]

Wet and Dry

Is a dry sense of humour good and is there a wet sense of humour? If a wet lettuce is a drag on social events, is a dry lettuce the life and soul of the party?

It was midsummer’s day in the salad drawer and the party was in full swing. Peppers, plump and bright, chatted in a multicoloured group comparing hues of green, orange and red. They spoke of yellow, who had gone the day before, reportedly into a ham sandwich. Two spring onions, a little limp, were struggling out of their purple elastic band that loosely corralled them. The lettuce, bone dry, encouraged them all to get up and dance.

[Authentic selfie - 17 November 2022]

Would you rather be buried alive or be burnt alive?

The question, posed by his wife as they were discussing funeral plans, was one previously asked but now freshly minted following a memorial for a close friend.

Of course, she had meant, would he prefer burial or cremation.

He had given his stock answer: Just put me in a black bag and leave me out with the bins.

But that had prompted a new question. Which week? Rubbish or recycling? Would you rather wake up in landfill or come to in a processing plant?

At that point he regretted not paying the extra to sign up for the garden waste.

 

[A hundred-word story - 20 October 2022]

Haircut

One gets used to inane questions in the barber’s – or hairdresser’s as they now prefer. My responses are generally as formulaic as the enquiries:

Are you doing anything special today? The truth is, getting my hair cut is the highlight, but do I want to share that fact.

Going anywhere nice for your holidays? Tempting to reply, no I’m going somewhere horrible for a change, but sarcasm halfway through a cut is unwise.

Yesterday, a new one. As soon as I was seated and had outlined my modest requirements – a good trim, thin it out, tapered at the back – she, a barber new to me, asked, “Scissor cut?”

I hesitated, wondering what possible options there were. Chew the hair off with her bare teeth? Set fire to it and extinguish when the excess was burnt off? I concurred with her initial suggestion.

[Authentic selfie - 13 October 2022]