Part 1 of The Football Years (6 March) featured pea soup. This edition gets serious, with soya bean curry. The recipe is at the end. After I have explained its significance.
When I stopped playing football, the gap it left in my life felt bigger than I could have expected. I miss it a surprising amount, even all these years after the broken leg brought it to an early end.
Playing the game was about more than ninety minutes exercise on a Sunday morning. It gave me a regular ritual in my life.
In my football years a typical Sunday morning started with a friend turning up at around 9.15 in his van. I would need to be ready to go. This was not as straightforward as it might sound.
It wasn’t just a matter of getting up, getting dressed and having breakfast. There was the frequent discovery that the mud-covered football boots you had thrown into a cupboard after the previous week’s game had mysteriously failed to clean and polish themselves. Not only was the mud still there. If you had left the boots in a plastic bag you also got the bonus of interesting new fungal life forms colonising the damp leather.
Then there was the toilet issue.