The 26th Sunday in Premier League Football

continued from here

 The 26th Sunday in Premier League Football 

Both games ended in ties, 1-1 Crystal Palace and Newcastle, and 2-2 Liverpool and Tottenham, a game decided not by the players but a linesman - “May his testicles shrivel up inside him then die!” Uncle Albert said. “I mean that charitably,” he added, because he wished much worse, I suspected.

Mo Salah

    By the time the games were over and we’d had lunch - split pea soup and bread and butter with a glass of milk with a dollop of bourbon - the dust motes turned to gnats had turned to grainy sleet. The steps and the sidewalk were a mush of slippery slush. Getting Uncle Albert home didn’t look as if it were going to be possible.

     He had me call Maggie, one of the students he lives with, the one that catered our lunch that time. She said she’d just gotten back from Smithfield and the roads were okay, but she could see why Uncle Albert shouldn’t be walking on the sidewalks. “I wouldn’t let him,” she said.

     “I’m walking over,” I said, “to pick up his pajamas and a toothbrush and stuff.”

     “I’m here,” she said. “Zenobia and Carl and I are going to watch the Super Bowl though none of us cares who wins.

     “As long as it’s not the Patriots,” she said.

For supper, we had “crack slaw.” It’s called that, Roz’s friend that she got the recipe from says, because it’s that addictive. It is pretty good.

     After supper, we watched the game until it got to 3-3. Then, that was enough sports for one day. Especially it was enough American football. “This is a shit game,” Uncle Albert said. He meant “compared to Association football.”

     It was an extraordinary thing to hear, Uncle Albert saying “shit.”

02.04.18