But that was over an hour ago, and fans are still driving aimless circles round Doha, beating the timeless tattoo on their horns: Baa! Baa! Ba-Ba-Baa! - Baa! Baa! Ba-Ba-Baa! The same rhythm as favoured by the strutting playground gangs in my primary school, all of fifty years ago, except, for lack of horned cars, it was a vocal exercise: Oi! Oi! Oi-Oi-Oi! - Oi! Oi! Oi-Oi-Oi! It didn't achieve much then either.
Still, a win for Ghana would have been nice. Ghana was one of the first African countries I knew by name, because, as a fledgling stamp collector (all of five years old) I was given a few Ghana postage stamps by a neighbour shortly after they gained their independence. Of course, my Stanley Gibbons 'Gay Venture' Stamp Album (a name they probably abandoned long ago) had no page for Ghana. Stick them under Gold Coast, said my Dad. I did, without knowing why.
Outside my window, the cavalcade continues...
WELCOME, FRIEND!
this week's favourites
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I had just changed into my extreme hot weather walking kit and was on the point of going out when I thought I heard a cricket or cicada chir...
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For less than the price of a pint, and free if you are a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, The Weft is a selection from my poetry files. For thos... -
When Matthew Gloag (no relation to his namesake who founded The Famous Grouse distillery) was five years old, he wrote, in his exercise boo...
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