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Stiff upper lip time
There's not much to smile about at the moment with Barnet FC having lost six out of seven of their League 2 games this season and already having been eliminated from two Cup competitions.
One point from a possible 21 means stiff upper lip time. I've given up saying to opposition directors before the game: "May the better team win".
Mrs S, aware of the pain and suffering, has tried to alleviate the gloom. I told her this morning: "I need a Sun" ... meaning, of course, a copy of the daily newspaper that carries reports of Barnet games.
"I'm beyond that now", she responded. Adding, on seeing my baffled expression, "I'm past child-bearing age".
Normally my reply would be "I do the funnies round here" but I just essayed a weak smile and acknowledged her humour.
The one thing that perked me up on Saturday, before Bury scored two late goals to go top of the table, was a couple of young lads asking me for my autograph.
"You don't want mine", I replied, trying desperately at an out-of-character modesty.
"Yes they do", said the gent with them. "They read your piece every week".
Signy 1, Fellow Bloggers 0. I haven't been so chuffed since the Sunday Times headlined me as the Controversial Editor three decades ago for writing that anti-Semitism was more of a problem than colour in NW London.
That was a far better reaction to my signature than the one years ago when I was asked to sign as I went into the Tottenham Hotspur ground.
Thinking that my signature was required because I had just written one of my books on Spurs, I asked the name of my admirer.
"To Bob, best wishes from .... Dennis Signy", I then wrote with a flourish.
The recipient looked at the signature and scowled. "I thought you were Denis Compton", he said, before walking away obviously niggled at the waste of a page in his book.
Well, the Middlesex and England cricketer and Arsenal footballer and I both had dark hair (at the time) and both came from Hendon. You could always tells us apart, though,.... I had two 'n's in my Dennis!
Back to Barnet. The story goes that a wise man said: "Cheer up, it can only get worse". So we all cheered up ... and it did get worse.
It will be a long week before my Gang of Four travelling party hit the road for Cleethorpes this Saturday - that's where Grimsby Town play - for a tilt at a side we have never beaten. Mrs S came with us last season as it was an evening game on our wedding anniversary and the five of us enjoyed a romantic fish and chip supper.
I haven't discussed next year's anniversary treat with her yet but it will be a trip to Brentford. Keep it quiet. I know a nice caff there down by the A4.
My "lucky" cashmere jacket to ensure Barnet's success did not get us beyond the pre-season games in July and, when the chairman chastised me for smoking, I said that I would stop once the team won a game". Each week now I say: "This is my last cigarette". I refute the scandalous allegation that I've got a supply in until next May.
PS If Dr Gray at the Grovemead Health Centre is reading this, I am only kidding. It's gallows humour, Doc.