So the football season started yesterday for me, with Arsenal taking on Liverpool (I am an Arsenal fan by the way). In the past, this kind of thing would have got me stupidly excited. Couple that with the fact that it was the start of the season, and you'd think I would have been cock-a-hoop. It turns out I wasn't. Maybe it is because of the World Cup and I have OD’d on football? Maybe it is because I know it will just be a procession of disappointment until the end of the season (alright glass half empty man!)? Or maybe I just don’t care about it anymore.

All summer I have been excited about us strengthening our squad, but Wenger hasn’t. He truly is spectacularly stubborn. I hoped we could keep hold of Fabregas, but it turns out even that felt bitter sweet. A player who loved the club, is staying out of obligation. That shouldn’t be why you stay! That is like remaining in a loveless marriage for the kids, a noble intention but in the long run probably not healthy for anyone. Manchester City have been spending huge amounts of money, disgusting amounts. Now I am no commie, but seriously, £225k a week for Yaya Toure. He should be ashamed of himself. His club should be ashamed. He could pay for the salaries of 6 nurses for an entire year on 1 weeks wages. As a society, it is out fault. We value a man for kicking a football more than someone who saves lives, on a daily basis. We only think about nurses and the such like when we are effected by death. Then we ask for donations to hospices and the such like, but then Saturday comes around and we are fixated on away goals, and the lack of pace on the wings.

This isn’t to say I have fallen out of love with the game, just that I don’t seem to care as much. This started a year or so ago, probably when my nephew was born, when I realised there are more important things in the world than a football result. A result I cannot change or have any impact on. Why get upset about it? I remember slammed doors after being beaten by Galatasary, I remember heart break after losing in Paris to Barca. None of that pain remains, it is a fleeting fake emotion, and all that is left afterwards are thoughts of what to have for dinner, and whether to watch a dvd or Antiques Roadshow. It is amazing how healing it can be to listen to Fiona Bruce.

So we drew 1-1 yesterday, through a spawny error from Liverpool’s keeper. I am not sure how I am supposed to feel about that. I did however make some rather excellent cheese scones yesterday, which I am very proud about.

- Anand (PS: Huddersfield ruined my accumulator this weekend!)