December

[Sweder]

I think you nailed it EG: 'businesslike' is exactly what I wanted, and for me this route is just that, a no-nonsense grind of a run where running's the thing and nought else. Yes, I can cover the same distance through the leafy lanes and cobbled avenues of Lewes, twisting & turning under historical eaves and up through the castle lanes, but there are many roads to cross and a lot of tired, careless drivers to watch out for; there's no chance of a heads down, no nonsense mindless boogie and that's what I needed last night.

Funny though; I was unsure of my route until I reached the prison; turn left into town or right to take my medicine. There was a hint of self-flagellation in my choice, just as there was last time I chose to turn right; a gentle rebuke for recent corporeal indiscretions perhaps.

If you've not got hold of Live in Gdansk yet I heartily recommend adding it to your seasonal wish-list. It's stuffed with haunting, lilting guitar, and somehow the live element adds to rather than detracts from the soothing effect. Maximum volume, a large glass of something special and low lighting are de rigeur.

Changing subject for a moment the gild seems to be finally off the Wenger lilly. Once again his young charges came up short, understandably so perhaps against a literal wealth of Abu Dhabi-bought talent. Yet the Arsenal manager appeared somehow terribly wronged. Was he upset that City had - shock-horror - taken the competition seriously by fielding first-team regulars? Surely it can't have been Sparky's light-footed skip through the visitors' technical area to show off his silky ball skills? Wenger refused to shake hands with Hughes, claiming in the post-match that he can shake hands or not with 'whom I choose'. Well, no, that's not so Arsene; you have a responsibility to show respect and at least the pretence of sporting behaviour even when the bitter pill of defeat is lodged in your craw. I've been a secret admirer of Wenger and his youthful experiements for some time but last night he descended into the self-deluded ranks of Lord Purple and Ranting Rafa with his grizzly display of public petulance.

Even those two old wasp-chewers manage a cursory glove-touch after their feisty, bile-fuelled encounters.