Written by Jamie

I am brewing a pot of coffee, steam rising. I have bread product of some kind with Bacon. I’ll be honest, I’ve lost track which one. I still don’t know what is wrong with Bacon between two slices of bread but now it’s all focaccia and ciabatta and I couldn’t tell the difference if you laced one with a month old Estonian herring.

Another thing worth a question is this, when did butter become an optional extra when you are getting a bacon sandwich? Do you want butter? Of course I do, if it’s not too much trouble. No proper bread, optional butter, no red sauce, in future just do me a couple of rashers of bacon and leave it at that.

Of course I want butter, the greasier the better, dripping out of the side mixed with the red sauce.

Today, I dream of Spain, of America, or frankly just about anywhere where sea is lapping to shore. Where I can sit like Derek Trotter in a beach bar drinking more cocktails than James Bond.

Such fantasies while frustrating are slightly more appealing than the alternative. Which is, in reality sitting at my desk getting neurotic about Arsenal’s transfer activity or rather, the lack of it.

If I were on holiday, I wouldn’t be sitting there doing that. I would be in a bar, on a beach, having lunch, exploring an old cathedral, doing a tour of a football ground.

I would even rather be in a Waterpark, Go-Karting possibly even at the same time but I wouldn’t be subjected to this.

If on holiday I would occasionally find myself looking at a two day old report from Steve Stammers in the Daily Mirror while consuming a big cake and cooling VAT looking at a magnificent vista. As if i were some amatuer James Richardson.

Instead, it’s Coffee, Bacon and a Windows vista.

Every TV show yesterday showed a beach, even the Grand Prix.

I look out over London Wall and the day looks lethargic. People move slowly in the heat outside the Museum of London, almost slow motion, Almost as slow as Arsenal’s Summer. A summer of big change, so we are told. Not one player in or one player out by 27^th June and don’t give me any of that Jenkinson stuff, i mean players that will definately have an impact next season.

First we are signing Gervinho, then we are not, then we have signed him, now we haven’t even made a bid.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m right behind Le Gaffer but the time it takes for us to sign a player does gives me the ache.

Stars form and burst, giant pandas mate and we still can’t conclude a deal.

We are like a 16 year old geek of the class trying to get his next door neighbours phone number. The President of Lille says we made contact but made no offer. It makes it sound like we rang up and got shy, giggled, said “Gervinho” and hung up.

I watch a lot of European football and I have seen Gervinho play half a dozen times. However despite this and him having the most ridiculous centre parting since “Saved by the Bell” was on TV, a month ago I couldn’t have picked out Gervinho if he, Scott Parker, Chris Samba and Juan Mata had done a conga past me singing “The Locomotion”.

That isn’t to say that he is not a good player.

I watched reports from around the world on the news this morning. War, torture, famine and not one word about Arsenal, Not one word. Selfish BBC.

This summer however for Family reasons, some work reasons and some financial reasons a holiday in June or July or even August is out of the question.

There is nothing quite as frustrating as being told you can’t go to Barcelona when all you want to do is hang out on the beach in Barcelona. Ask El Capitan.

Last year I went away in late November, it wasn’t easy catching the games abroad in November. You invairiably end up in a back street Irish bar sat next to some guy who came for a holiday in 1982 and never went back.

“I had trials” he will say, then you are subjected to two hours of the “I could have been a contender, but the booze, the girls, knee injury, blah,blah blah” speech. By the time Wilshere pops in the fourth at Villa Park you are reaching for the Tequilas.

The overwhelming point is this. Summer is for holidays, Winter is for football.

Holiday resorts in November are full of sadness and storm clouds and sitting around looking at Newsnow in June doesn’t look a lot differnet.

It isn’t going to do you any good come the fixture pile up.

So if you can’t get away and I can’t, then get your sun tan oil and get to your nearest park or pub by the river, or your back garden. Pour yourself a Pina Colada and read a two day old copy of the Daily Mirror and for a moment, just a moment, you might be able to convince yourself that your not addicted.

So Happy Holidays even if they are, only in your mind!