In Leeds for meetings today. Did the 50-mile trip in about thirty-five minutes this morning, courtesy of Stone Temple Pilots. I'd forgotten how much I love Sex Type Thing. And Crackerman. Marvellous driving music. [Also, if you try your hardest to ignore how very much Scott Weiland wants to be Kurt Cobain, Creep is beautiful, too.]

Serie A has a mid-week outing this evening. The Sardines are away to Atalanta. Given the trouble they had getting to Reggio Calabria last week, I really hope they booked their flight a while ago, else their bus will have had to have set off the day before yesterday. In the meantime, Massimiliano Allegri wins this week's prize for Stating the Bleedin' Obvious. *eyeroll*

I am growing terribly fond of Bolton Wanderers. I have been stalking the site like a crazed thing desperate for news of mai Ebi, and they are about as parochial in their fussy detail as Palermo. I mean, what other top-league team would run a news article declaring that someone is happy? Bless them to Bognor and back. [Also, I has a picture. I am a happy bunny.]

Martha told me yesterday of some benefit game in which a Milan all-star team took part. One of whom was called Costacurta. She was good enough to link me to gallery. Once I had finished screeching and flailing I was able to check it out, but was still none the wiser. Does anyone know what it was for? When it was? Why there were no pictures of Albertini?