No history my arse. 135 years more like. We were just crap for 134.

I did tell you 2006 was going to be an auspicious year.

Reading, the best second-division team since the war, celebrate on a gloomy and grey day in Leicester.
Whoever flukes their way up via the playoffs will do it in front of 70 000 at the finest stadium in Britain.

If it needs spelling out, Reading FC, one of the oldest football clubs in the world, today clinched promotion to the top division of English football for the first time in their history. They also achieved this with 6 games to spare, which is better than anyone's done since the war. Not bad for a team whose first match, in 1872, finished in a 0-0 draw against my secondary school.

Without wishing to go overboard, I'd say we can now confirm that Reading are without a shadow of a doubt the best football team in the world ever. Even Chris Tarrant pretty much agrees with me.

This means that:

1. next year if French people ask me who I support I can actually say "Reading" without them saying "what?" Yes Liverpool were my first love, but supporting what was for 8 years my hometown club has far more indie cred and is better for my image. Or so says my stylist.

2. The following statement is true for the first time ever: tonight I wish I was in Reading not Paris.

3. children in small towns like Leeds, Nottingham, or Sheffield, frog sample, will start saying, "yeah, basically I support United / Forest / Wednesday, but my Premiership team is Reading."

To sum up - in a footballing sense, today could not be any more perfect unless Liverpool won the Mersey derby with an own goal from a former Man Utd player. You say what?

A dramatic error

One thing I have learnt this week is that when someone kindly invites you to their show, it's generally a good idea to turn up at the correct theatre. Unfortunately on Saturday I comprehensively failed to do this. So I can't really inform you about what a lovely performance of The Wizard of Oz I saw the other day, because I didn't see it. Instead, I merely caused great confusion among two grey-bearded men on the door of what appeared to be some kind of bizarre family reunion. Who the hell has a family reunion in a theatre?

Walking back home from the wrong theatre
is better in Paris than in central Reading.

Anyway, with this notable exception, I did manage to turn up in the right place for the vast majority of things last week. Aside from meeting random Italian pop singers during the week and spending St Paddy's down the pub with a vast array of people none of whom were Irish, I even got some useful stuff done. We auditioned Christophe (le batteur) and Alex (le guitariste) in the studios on Sunday, and proceeded to forcefully separate bricks from mortar through the sheer power of noise. Soft rock it ain't. This was universally considered as A Good Thing, and the two musicians seem to want to carry on with us so that's all fruity. The Parisians among you may wish to keep a Saturday evening free in June - we're playing the Sentier des Halles three weeks in a row.

Beave and I finished the weekend making our way down to the Parc des Princes on Sunday evening to watch PSG destroy Auxerre 4-1. PSG must be the most frustrating team to support in the world - they are capable of a result like this, playing some beautiful football*, but it was also their first win in 8 league matches... says it all really.

* In the 57th minute, PSG won the ball near their own corner flag. Ponced around with a couple of one touch passes to get it out of defence, then knocked it about in midfield while the crowd started shouting "olé". 10 passes later, Beave turned round and said "if they score from this move, it'll be some goal". Then this only went and happened.

www.planetepsg.com is worth visiting, but only if you are in any sense interested.

It should be noted that René Bolf's earlier own goal was also a thing of beauty.

Eschatology and the Post-Tribulation Rapture

The bottom of my road, yesterday.
It's better than Winnersh Triangle.

Two innocent looking middle aged ladies walked into the hotel reception in the afternoon while I was working. "Bonjour," I said. "Hello," they said in French, smiling warmly and dropping a copy of La Tour de Garde on the desk, "we wondered whether you'd be interested in our magazines."

"YAY," I thought very nearly out loud, "Jehovah's Witnesses!"

This was of course completely the wrong thing to think, because if you look delighted at the arrival of two Jehovah's Witnesses then they are generally going to assume that you are Enthusiastic To Learn About The Truth. Which is, funnily enough, precisely what they did.

"Do you know these magazines then?" one asked. Hell yes, I said, the Gingehovah only spent most of 2003 defending her faith against my apostatic conjectures, and tentatively inviting me to her Bile Study evenings. "Do you know God?" she asked. "My Dad," I replied, "is an Anglican vicar, and has a direct line to God, as it happens. We were introduced when I was a kid." "This month's issue", she continued undaunted and clearly gaining momentum, "is about morality and money. Which is more important to you?"

Realising that answering such a question would lead to (if previous Gingehovah experiences are anything to go by) a three hour argument followed by a break for a hot chocolate and then another three hours before she sleeps over and we're late for university the next morning, I pointed out that I was, in case she hadn't noticed, at work, and that it really wasn't the best moment to explore the metaphysical condition of mankind with someone I wasn't going to agree with even if she offered to make me pies for the rest of my life. But I did take her magazines. They are brilliant. I think they see their world through the same filters as Jean-Pierre Jeunet put on the cameras while filming Amélie, if you see what I mean, which all things considered you probably don't, but on the small offchance that you do, well, there you are.

By the way, if you do happen to be a devout believer in similar things, you may wish to consider using this useful site to let people know where you've gone in case you're ever unexpectedly taken up to heaven. A sort of spam from the afterlife, if you like.

Now, more importantly, in case you're wondering, there was a Timber excursion this weekend, to Vanves on the invitation of the cheeky Chief Leaf. Unfortunately, however, Vanves is not interesting enough to take photos of. Sorry about that. Suggestions are welcome for the next one if you have any particular requests.

I... know nothing

I increasingly identify with this man.

Last week featured a highly amusing expedition up to the Stade de France with Beave, to watch France lose 2-1 at home to Slovakia. France wasted about a dozen easy chances to score, while Slovakia had about three half chances all match and scored twice - a stunning angled drive from Nemeth, and a clinically executed free kick, both from the edge of the area. Little Jimmy, the hotel's resident child - and budding football fanatic - was inconsolable on Thursday. I laughed cruelly at him and pointed out sensitively that, unlike France, England won. Meanwhile the Argies also lost, and Germany went down 4-1 in Florence. Anyone who complains about the England performance, under these circumstances, needs boiling.

Last week also saw possibly the most immature argument ever seen between two football clubs, in the run-up to the PSG-OM grudge match. Result: Marseille pettily refused to send their first team, turned down the tickets allocated to their fans, and turned up with a bunch of reserves. PSG, in the way that only PSG can, managed to turn what should have been an easy win into a 0-0 draw. I've been to watch them several times over the years, the Parc des Princes generates a fantastic atmosphere considering it's full of French people, but they really are one of the most frustrating, underachieving, and generally arse clubs in the world. (Note: at Christmas they were 2nd in the league and doing just fine. Out of the blue, they sacked their manager, and brought in a new president. They are now 7th and haven't won for 6 matches.)

For those of you disappointed at the lack of a weekend Timberblog excursion, this was due to a healthy social life on Saturday, and a completely unhealthy social life on Sunday.

In unrelated news, I have made my first short fillum. Click here to see it. This site will also let you make your own.

[Film rated 15 for strong language and mild sexual references.]