Raining on a Monday

Arsenal, it's Arsenal we sing
For it's by far the greatest team
The world has ever seen.

- an Arsenal ditty, maybe one I'll hear this Saturday

There's a story about a dog, by the name of Bobby, who guarded his master's grave for 14 years. Never left his side. Died by his side. Cute story. He's buried at Greyfriars church, and it's the most visited grave in Edinburgh. Little kids gather sticks from the cemetery gardens and lay them by the tombstone. Gardeners have to disperse the growing mound of sticks every month or so, or otherwise it'll bury the tombstone. There's even a little statue of the dog (a Scottish terrier - what else?) in front of a pub by the church.

Shows what a little bit of dedication can do for you.

It's such a pretty little city, Edinburgh. It even looks good in the rain.

I've been glancing through the transfer rumours at newsnow, and it's kind of sad. There's probably only 2 or 3 players left who have the experience and the stature to be a sub at Arsenal, and who can be signed outside the transfer window. And so, they're posting increasingly tenuous links to players who I've never heard of. At this rate, by the end of the week Emmanuel Petit will be rumoured to come out of retirement to join us. Which wouldn't be too bad, I suppose - at least he's experienced enough and tough enough to boss the midfield.

If I can rig it, I may be able to duck down to Bolton for the away game on Saturday, before swinging back to Manchester. It's difficult to get a room in Bolton. No one really wants to stay there, for some odd reason. These Arsenal games are getting pretty addictive - it's so nice to watch the team live.

Oh we love you Arsenal, we do.

Read My Mind

It's funny how you just break down,
Waiting for some sign.
I pull up, by the side of your driveway,
With magic soaked in my spine,
Can you read my mind?

- The Killers, Read My Mind

I had my first haggis today. Strange, strange thing - like someone had scooped out the meat inside four sausage rolls and mashed them into a grey, unwholesome paste. It didn't taste too bad, though. Must be the extra oatmeal.

And I'm in Edinburgh. And it's raining. It's pretty when it rains - gives everything a nice sheen, envelopes the place in a mist. I think I'll like this city, once I wake up. I never knew how exhausting a 3 hour train ride can be. It's set on on two step sides of a ravine, and both sides face each other. They've got these five, six storey buildings that wind along medieval cobbled streets. It's pretty, and it's nice.

There's not much Arsenal news. So... I'll make some up. It's curious that Wenger's chosen such old players this transfer season. Silvestre instead of Senderos. Mineiro or Appiah instead of Flamini. It's a break with his chosen policy of the past three years. He's also elevated a kid in Wilshire and bought another one in Ramsey.

I'm starting to think that he thinks this is it. That this squad is good enough to win this year. That Denilson/Diaby/Song will be good enough. That Gallas and Toure can work together. That van Persie and Rosicky can keep fit enough to make a meaningful contribution.

It's very exciting, mainly because Wenger knows that he's got to deliver this year. One more year like this, and the rising pile of excrement will move into range of the ceiling fan. We're very, very impatient here at the Arsenal. We want a real title challenge.

I'm not sure what to think. If I'm a Wenger-believer, we're in for interesting times. If I'm a Wenger doubter, I'll have to think that Wenger's finally lost it. I don't know. My faith in Wenger oscillates between highs and lows. But in the midst of all this presumptive optimism, my patience in really breaking down.

Sick of waiting for a sign, I suppose.