Hedging my bets.

My interview at Burnley this morning. I was up very early, as Sir Alex Ferguson might have said, squeaky bottom time. Anyway, it was Maggie the dog who dragged me in here, honest. I must admit it looked quite beautiful in the early morning sun. After all we have been discussing about relligion of late, I was tempted to go down on my knees and make a plea, to Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, but my knees wouldn't let me anyhow. In that wonderful book, Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh makes that analogy, that being a Catholic, is like being a trout at the end of a fisherman's line, and the fish is running away upstream, but all it needs is a little pressure applied from the fisherman on the bank and it is brought back to reality as it were. Apologies for probably misunderstanding that thought, but it has been many years since last read. The T.V. series was excellent, with marvellous performances by all the cast, particularly by a young man, I can't remember either his character, or actual name, possibly Anthony something? I think he called himself, that Portugese Dago, and camped it up splendidly. I think he said to the Jeremy Irons character, if I don't see you, I shall come along, like an old stoat, and ch-ch-chivvy you out. I saw Jeremy Irons, on Who do you think you are. Apparently some of his family were from Cork. West Brits I believe they were called.
Adios.