I absolutely love the way Son uses language. I looked at his Facebook profile earlier this evening, and saw his comment that he was "somewhere between passion and apathy". Maybe because I am/was an english teacher, and love both literature and language myself, I really appreciate it - and perhaps that's why he does too. I'm not taking the credit for it, because he is his own person, always has been. And he has always followed his passions. I just enjoy it when he uses words in such a fresh and distinctive way. And he could always write. His degree in Sociology may have helped (though he would probably disagree). I was certainly impressed with a lot of the stuff he learned at Sussex, and which seems to have stuck. He knows about Psychology, Cognitive Therapy and many things which are a complete mystery to me. I remember a while ago I sent him a text message quoting something from Jung (which I've now forgotten), and his reply was "Yeah, but Jung did go completely mad!" It's that lovely combination of knowledge and wit that appeals to me. And the fact that it's Son saying it is just the icing on the cake.
Watching the England game this evening also reminds me of Son. He has been playing
and watching football since he was knee-high to a goal post. (Our team is Tottenham Hotspur, The Spurs, courtesy of my Mum who grew up in Tottenham, round the corner from White Hart Lane.) He played first for the school team in primary school, and then for the Cubs. This was a disaster because the Cubs had a terrible team who always lost their games - very disheartening. Then we discovered the Cherry Hinton Lions, and he played for the under 8s, right through to the under 17s. What a team! They were in a Sunday League which played, come rain, shine, hail or snowstorm,every week, and was very competitive. Everyone (except the manager's son) had to fight for their place in the team. And they won all the cups and medals, year after year. Son was a very good player, who scored a lot of goals, and loved his footy. It was always very exciting to watch, and I became a Sunday Football Mum, shouting encouragement from the touchline in all weathers. On one memorable occasion (I think it was Under 13s), the Cup Final was played at the Cambridge United ground, and Son scored the winning goal. The excitement was almost too much to bear, and that tinny old stand echoed to our ecstatic cheers. At the end of each season, when they took home the League and Cup trophies, we used to drive home, covered in mud and glory, singing along to "We are the Champions" by Queen. It was wonderful. And we have those medals and miniature trophies still. Tucked into a box of memories for Son, along with stuffed toys, vintage Spurs kits, old school books and his collection of football programmes. I kind of hope he always keeps them, but who knows..
Late result: England 1 Germany 2, in a Friendly (Ha Ha) game at Wembley. No comment.