Perhaps this entry would be better suited to my work log (which I am often reminded does get neglected). Considering this for a few moments, I opted to post here because the story is better suited to what became a long and meandering entry. Where to begin? As I returned to my car after paying for my parking at Wycombe station, I noticed a car pull up and park a few spaces beyond my own car. It was a Jaguar with a private plate. I thought little of it. A high flying director, of a big multinational heading into the London office. Then getting closer, I recognised the face but could not put a name there. As I got into my car, the penny dropped, but I did not have a pen or scrap of paper to take a autograph. The celebrity in question, was by now on his way to the station and I still needed to get my ticket from the machine. Just my luck, the machine was not accepting credit cards, so I would have to scrape some cash together and make do. I hoped, deep inside that this was not to set the trend for the rest of the day. There was proposed strike on some lines of the Underground and if the industrial action was severe I was going to jump into a black cab. Thankfully, the disruption was minor and none of my stations or lines were closed. I reached my destination, after a fantastic ten minute trip on the DLR or Docklands Light Railway to the uninitiated. Before I head down on a trip down memory lane (literally) referencing the thirteen (yes, that is 13) year old episode of The Simpson’s – Marge versus The Monorail (I will try to control myself and not come out with random quotes). Personally I think DG should spent a month covering the train system. Of course, after e-mailing Diamond, he replied almost instantly as he has already been there nearly two years ago. As I came down the stairs I consulted the map I had printed from work the previous week, the main roundabout was outside, but I was slightly lost. Sorry, I was completely lost. I headed across a bridge, which is directly in the flight path of City Airport. Then I saw the sign, naming the bridge and I just looked up to the dull grey sky and laughed. God works in mysterious ways. The official name of the road is Woolwich Manor Way. But unofficially it is called the Sir Steve Redgrave Bridge. Nine hours later, I snapped a quick picture with my camera phone as I headed toward my car at High Wycombe station.

The road to Wembley, no I’m not talking about the football challenge for Fans Of The Week on Soccer AM. I am talking about the real road (or more accurately speaking train track) to the majestic new stadium to be the home of football in the motherland of the game. Was hoping to mention it on my weekend entry, I was glued to the window, as I saw us approaching the famous arch in the skyline. However it looked so much more magical this morning, with the sun just rising in the distance and a golden sunlight caressing the once side of the white structure. On Saturday I text Chris, to report how the outside at least looked almost complete. On an weekly basis I would go past the football ground (that is perhaps the understatement of the century if not millennium) on my way into Central London and would often monitor the progress of development. Yet it is only now it is truly taking shape. Hungary are the first visitors to the new Wembley. Just a shame I never got a chance or opportunity to see England at the Twin Towers.

Rather late in the day (in terms of breaking news) I know, but I thought I would add my fifty pence worth. Gorgeous George is in the Celebrity Big Brother house, while we (the British taxpayer) pay him an insane amount of money to ‘represent’ the people. The Guardian on their News blog have already covered the story with at least four if not more seperate entries with constantly changing view point. Even our friend Diamond Geezer has started his own Gallowatch on his blog. As a member of GG’s constituency, he has every right to know what this man is doing on television rather than voting in the House of Commons. My view is perfectly clear, from 26th August last year and I am not alone in my hatred for him. Strange how I include two public figures of such great contrast in my entry today. On one hand you have a great athlete that has proved himself on the world stage on five times and been honoured by HRH The Queen. Then we have a cigar smoking, self-promoting, sleazy slime ball. Ollie over at Dayorama takes a comical approach on the inclusion of an Member Of Parliament in the wrong house! If opinion does sway you to my side of the water, then perhaps you will consider the facts and figures. Gorgeous George has a disgraceful record in comparison to his predecessor, King.