Easy Duck Spice Bag Recipe

This duck spice bag recipe came about after a weekend trip to Leeds for some holiday shopping.

While we were there, we stopped at Trinity Kitchen and decided to try Dole Spice Bags. Spice bags are an Irish favourite that have thankfully made their way over here, basically a glorious mixture of crispy chips, meat or a meat alternative, sauce, vegetables and seasoning all thrown together.

I went for the vegan Irish Spice Bag, sometimes called a Dirty Bag, while Debs had the Crispy Aromatic Duck Bag. Both were absolutely delicious.

The only problem was that we knew it might be a while before we were back in Leeds.

A few days later, on the way home from work, I had the idea of trying to recreate the crispy duck spice bag for Debs. I called into Aldi, picked up what I needed and gave it a go.

Apparently it was pretty close to the real thing, which earned me some proper brownie points.

The method is really simple and works just as well with crispy duck, chicken or plant-based pieces. I used plant-based No Chicken Pieces for mine.

Easy Duck Spice Bag Recipe

Serves: 2
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 15 minutes
Calories: approximately 800 kcal per portion using plant-based pieces

Ingredients

• 500g skin-on fries
• 240g crispy duck, chicken or plant-based No Chicken Pieces
• 150g hoisin sauce
• ½ cucumber, peeled and finely sliced
• 5–6 spring onions, finely sliced
• Sesame seeds, lightly toasted
• A little oil, for frying

You can use any chips you like, but I find skin-on fries work particularly well because they go really crispy and stand up better once everything is mixed together.

How to Make a Duck Spice Bag

1. Cook the chips according to the packet instructions until they're properly golden and crispy.
2. While the chips are cooking, heat a little oil in a frying pan and gently cook your duck, chicken or plant-based pieces. If you're using raw meat, make sure it's completely cooked through.
3. Once cooked, reduce the heat and add the hoisin sauce. Stir everything together and warm gently until the pieces are completely coated.
4. Add most of the toasted sesame seeds and give everything another quick stir.
5. Take the pan off the heat, then add the cucumber and spring onions. Toss them through the hoisin mixture. Adding them right at the end keeps a bit of freshness and crunch.
6. Add the crispy chips and gently toss everything together. You want the chips lightly coated in hoisin rather than completely soaked in it.
7. Divide between two bowls or plates and finish with the remaining toasted sesame seeds.
8. Serve straight away while the chips are still crispy.

Duck, Chicken or Plant-Based?

Although this started out as an attempt to recreate the Crispy Aromatic Duck Spice Bag we had in Leeds, the recipe is very easy to adapt.

Crispy aromatic duck is the obvious choice, especially if you can find one of the ready-to-cook packs in the supermarket. Chicken works perfectly well too, while plant-based chicken-style pieces make a really good vegetarian or vegan version. Just check that your hoisin sauce is suitable if you're keeping the whole thing vegan.

The important bit is the combination of crispy chips, sticky hoisin, spring onion, cucumber and toasted sesame. It's ridiculously simple, but it works.

A Few Notes

Don't add the cucumber and spring onions too early. They only need tossing through once the pan is off the heat, otherwise the cucumber starts to soften and you lose the contrast with the hot chips and sticky sauce.

Likewise, get the chips as crispy as you can before adding them. Once the hoisin goes on, they'll naturally soften a little, so starting with properly crisp fries makes a big difference.

The calorie figure is only a rough estimate because fries, hoisin sauce and whichever duck, chicken or plant-based pieces you use can vary quite a lot. My plant-based version comes out at roughly 800 kcal per portion. A version made with crispy aromatic duck may be a little higher.

Is it exactly the same as the one from Dole Spice Bags? Probably not. But it was close enough to bring back memories of our lunch in Leeds, it took about 25 minutes from start to finish and, most importantly, Debs loved it, and we had it two days in a row.

Cheat Fajita Pasta Recipe

This cheat fajita pasta recipe came about after I had the Vegan Fajita Pasta at Slug & Lettuce and really enjoyed it.

The Slug & Lettuce version is described as penne pasta in a Sheese® sauce with onion, peas and mixed peppers, finished with spring onion. The one I had seemed a little different though. I don't remember any peas or any peppers, but it did have sun-dried tomatoes in it.

Either way, it gave me the idea to make my own quick fajita pasta at home.

I wasn't bothered about keeping mine vegan, so I went for a simple vegetarian version using cream cheese, Cheddar and a ready-made fajita seasoning mix. No measuring out cumin, paprika, chilli and garlic... hence the word cheat.

It turned out to be a lovely tea, and from start to finish it only takes about 20 minutes.

Cheat Fajita Pasta Recipe

Serves: 2
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 20 minutes
Calories: 650kcal per portion

Ingredients

• 200g penne pasta
• ½ onion, thinly sliced
• 50–60g sun-dried tomatoes, roughly chopped
• ½ pepper, thinly sliced – optional
• A small handful of peas – optional
• 3 teaspoons fajita seasoning mix
• 100g full-fat cream cheese
• 50g grated Cheddar - optional
• A splash of milk
• A little pasta cooking water
• 2 spring onions, finely sliced
• A squeeze of lime
• 1 tablespoon oil, ideally from the sun-dried tomato jar
• Black pepper

How to Make Fajita Pasta

1. Cook the penne according to the packet instructions. Before draining it, save a little of the pasta cooking water.
2. While the pasta is cooking, heat the oil in a frying pan and gently cook the onion for a few minutes until it starts to soften.
3. If you're using pepper, add it to the pan and cook for another couple of minutes.
4. Add the sun-dried tomatoes, then stir in the fajita seasoning. I used 3 teaspoons, which gave the pasta plenty of flavour while keeping it fairly mild.
5. Turn the heat down and add the cream cheese, grated Cheddar and a splash of milk. Stir until everything has melted into a smooth, creamy sauce.
6. Add the cooked penne along with a splash of the reserved pasta water. Stir everything together until the sauce coats the pasta properly.
7. If you're adding peas, stir them through now and give them a minute or two to heat through.
8. Finish with a squeeze of lime, plenty of black pepper and the sliced spring onions on top for decoration.
9. Serve straight away.

Chicken or Quorn Fajita Pasta

This works perfectly well as it is, but you can easily turn it into a more substantial meal by adding chicken or Quorn.

If you're using chicken, slice it into small pieces and cook it thoroughly before adding the onion and continuing with the recipe. Quorn pieces can be cooked in much the same way, following the packet instructions.

Either option works really well with the creamy fajita sauce and turns this into an easy chicken fajita pasta or Quorn fajita pasta without changing much else.

A Few Notes

The peas and pepper are both optional. The Slug & Lettuce fajita pasta description mentions both, but the dish I was served didn't have either.

I did use half a pepper in my homemade version and thought it worked well, but the sun-dried tomatoes were the ingredient I definitely wanted to keep. They add a slightly sweet, savoury flavour that works brilliantly with the creamy cheese sauce and fajita seasoning.

If you are feeling adventurous, you could, of course, make your own fajita seasoning using garlic, smoked paprika, cumin and chilli powder, but that rather defeats the point of this recipe.

This is supposed to be a quick and easy fajita pasta inspired by the Slug & Lettuce Vegan Fajita Pasta, and the ready-made seasoning does the job perfectly.

Maldron Hotel Liverpool Review

Stayed: 21st-22nd Sept 2026
Room type: Executive King Room
Overall score: 9.5/10

We stayed for one night at the Maldron Hotel Liverpool while spending a couple of days in the city (a birthday trip from my wife for the both of us).

She booked an Executive King Room, which comes with the added bonus of bathrobes, slippers and our own coffee machine.

The standard rooms are already very well appointed, with air conditioning, complimentary Wi-Fi, flat-screen TV, hair dryer, complimentary toiletries, ironing facilities, in-room safe and tea and coffee making facilities.

The room itself was VERY comfortable, but that's only a fraction of the story.

Accommodation

Before we arrived, I was slightly worried about noise.

The Maldron is right on the edge of Liverpool city centre, with some pretty busy roads close by, and the Liverpool ONE coach station, so I expected the usual city hotel hustle and bustle through the night. Loud people talking in the hotel corridors, late-night revellers coming back, screaming kids, the general noise of a hotel operating 24/7... and, of course, the ruddy bins being emptied somewhere at some ungodly hour.

There was absolutely none of it.

I'm usually an early riser and the slightest noise can wake me from a deep sleep. Not here. I slept until just gone 8am.

That's almost unheard of. It probably helped that the bed was so incredibly comfy too.

We could honestly have been staying in the middle of the countryside, it was that quiet.

Staff and service

The staff were really friendly and helpful throughout our stay, and check-in was an absolute breeze.

They even left a personal Happy Birthday message for me.

As it was my birthday, we were also given a complimentary drink each in the bar, which was a lovely touch.

Bar and dining area

The bar and dining area is lovely and relaxed, with huge windows looking out onto the busy Liverpool streets outside.

It's a nice place to sit with a drink and watch the city going by, without feeling like you're sitting in the middle of it.

Location

Location is another big tick.

You're right on the edge of Liverpool city centre, so it's only a few minutes' walk to the bars, restaurants and the Cavern Quarter.

If you're driving, discounted parking is available at the John Lewis Q-Park, just a couple of minutes' walk from the hotel.

Breakfast

Breakfast was very good.

It's buffet style, which is always my preference for this sort of hotel stay, with plenty of hot and cold food plus a good selection of drinks.

My quick test as a vegetarian is always whether there's enough choice for me without breakfast becoming toast, beans and another slice of toast. The Maldron passes that test easily.

There was one small disappointment.

We were shown to a table where there had obviously been a recent spill, so the floor around us was still damp. I later noticed there was also some scrambled egg left on the floor.

Had I spotted it straight away, I'd simply have asked for another table, but I was a little surprised we'd been seated there in the first place.

That's where the missing half point went.

The Verdict

This was a genuinely excellent stay.

The Maldron Hotel Liverpool is comfortable, exceptionally quiet, brilliantly located and has some of the friendliest hotel staff we've come across.

The thing I'll remember most is probably just how peaceful the room was. For a hotel sitting so close to the centre of a busy city, the lack of outside noise or hotel noise was remarkable.

Add in a very comfortable room, good breakfast, relaxed bar area and the fact you can walk into the heart of Liverpool within minutes, and there really isn't much to criticise.

Apart from that slightly soggy breakfast table floor, we'd struggle to fault it.

A superb city-centre hotel that somehow manages to feel remarkably peaceful. We'd happily stay here again.

Places I've Lived

I've been wanting to put this little post together for a while, and I've only just got around to it. It's simply a list of the places I've lived over the years, roughly when I lived there, and a Google Maps pin showing the actual property where possible.

Note: Where I've included a month, I'm pretty sure the date is accurate. The others should be pretty close.

22 Sept 1967 - 1969 - West Riding Villas, Ferrybridge
Honestly, I've no idea exactly how long I lived here. All I know is that this is where we lived when I was born. I remember being told a story about us getting flooded, so we must have been pretty close to the river or canal. The street isn't there any more and I can't even find any photographs of it online (although I have since found this old map). The location on the map is therefore a bit of an educated guess, but I reckon it's a damn close one.

Another educated guess is that it was a roomy two story house with kitchen, living room, cast iron coal fireplace, three bedrooms and possibly an outside toilet!

1969 - 1988 - 24 Crewe Avenue, Ferrybridge
We moved here sometime around 1969. I must still have been very young because I don't really have any memories of moving there. I'm guessing a little at the date we moved out, but it was definitely after my parents divorced.

Downstairs bathroom and toilet, three bedrooms, I had the small box room.

1988 - 1989 - 5 Oakfield Crescent, Knottingley, West Yorkshire
Moved here after my parents divorced and Mum married my stepdad, Dave. I didn't stay for long, as you can see. Again, I had the small box room!

1989 - 1993 - 20 Bransby Rise, Farsley, Leeds
My first move away from home. It was a small rented one-bedroom flat on the first floor with a tiny kitchen and no central heating!

1993 - 1994 - 35 Kingsway Court, Moortown, Leeds
Moved somewhere a little bigger, this time a top floor flat with two bedrooms and, importantly, central heating. It was another rented place, but it probably felt like a palace compared with the previous flat.

1994 - Jan 1997 - 35 Shadwell Walk, Moortown, Leeds
My first property purchase. The road name sounded good because Shadwell itself was, and still is, a very posh place to live. Shadwell Walk, however, was on the wrong side of the Ring Road! Even so, this part of Moortown was a very pleasant, leafy suburb.

Jan 1997 - Aug 2009 - 5 Laundon Way, Whetstone, Leicestershire
I moved down to Leicestershire for work when I started at Marconi, formerly GEC, in Coventry.

Aug 2009 - Nov 2009 - 5 Oakfield Crescent, Knottingley, West Yorkshire
After my divorce I moved back in with Dave for a few months.

Nov 2009 - Jun 2010 - 5 Ashdown Court, Ferrybridge, West Yorkshire
Back to renting another top floor flat again. This was an interesting one because the development had been built on the site of the old Greyhound pub, where we used to go in the 1970s and have a bottle of Coca-Cola and some XL Beef crisps.

Jun 2010 - Now - 22 Womersley Road, Knottingley, West Yorkshire
I moved in with Debs and we made this our forever home... until we move again!

My 2026 Harvest Pale Ale Recipe

So each year after I harvest my First Gold hope, I take a look at what I have and I create a one off beer with the fresh green hops, this year, I decided to brew a Pale Ale.

This recipe uses clean Pilsner malt paired with Carapils and wheat malt for body and head stability, and loads it up with 700g of fresh wet First Gold hops harvested on brew day.

Batch Size 20 Litres

Target OG 1.060

Target FG 1.011

Target ABV 6.4%

Target Parameters

• Est. Bitterness: ~28 IBU
• Est. Colour: ~9 EBC (Pale Straw / Light Gold)
• Mash Efficiency: ~75%
• Boil Time: 60 minutes

The Grain Bill

Grain / Fermentable	Weight	Percentage	Purpose
Pilsner Malt	4.50kg	90%	Crisp, clean, straw-gold malt base
Carapils / Dextrin Malt	0.25kg	5%	Enhances body, mouthfeel, and head retention
Wheat Malt	0.25kg	5%	Head stability and subtle grain smoothness

Hop Schedule (Fresh Wet Hops)

Addition	Variety	Weight	Timing / Notes
Bitterness	Magnum (or Challenger)	15g	Boil 60 min (hits target ~25 IBU base)
Wet Whirlpool	Fresh First Gold	500g	Whirlpool 20 min @ 80°C–85°C
Wet Dry Hop	Fresh First Gold	200g	Add on Day 7 (3 days contact, submerged)

Pellet Substitution Note

If you are brewing this outside harvest season or using dried hop pellets instead of wet hops, replace the wet hop additions with standard T90 pellets at a 5.5:1 ratio:

• Whirlpool: Replace 500g fresh wet hops with ~92g of First Gold pellets (steeped at 80°C–85°C for 20 mins).
• Dry Hop: Replace 200g fresh wet hops with ~38g of First Gold pellets (dry hopped for 3 days).

Yeast & Fermentation Schedule

• Yeast: 1 x 11g sachet Lallemand Nottingham Ale Yeast (direct pitched).
• Primary Fermentation: Ferment at a strict 18°C for 5 to 6 days until active bubbling subsides.
• Diacetyl Rest & Dry Hop: On Day 6–7, raise temperature controller to 20°C. Add the 200g fresh First Gold hops in a weighted, sanitised mesh bag (or 38g pellets). Maintain at 20°C for 3 days.
• Cold Crash: Drop temperature to 3°C for 48 hours to settle out hop material and yeast prior to packaging.

Step-by-Step Mash & Brew Guide

1. The Mash

Strike with approximately 15L of water at 72°C to achieve a target mash temperature of 65°C. Hold at 65°C for 60 minutes for high fermentability, giving Nottingham the headroom to attenuate fully down to ~1.011.

2. Lauter & Sparge

Sparge with water at 76°C until you collect roughly 24L to 25L of pre-boil wort in the kettle.

3. The Boil

Bring to a rolling boil for 60 minutes. Add 15g of Magnum at the 60-minute mark to build a clean 25 IBU bitterness backbone.

4. Wet Hop Whirlpool (80°C)

At the end of the 60-minute boil, turn off the heat and cool the wort down to 80°C–85°C. Stir in 500g of fresh wet First Gold hops (or 92g pellets). Cover and steep for 20 minutes. Keeping the temperature below 85°C prevents burning off the fresh floral and citrus oils.

5. Fermentation & Dry Hopping

Chill the wort to 18°C, oxygenate well, and pitch the Nottingham yeast. Follow the temperature schedule above, adding the weighted 200g fresh dry hop bag on Day 7 for a 3-day contact window before cold crashing.

VAR Needs a Challenge

I suppose the inevitable VAR post had to come eventually from em after the fiasco this weekend!

This latest trigger was Erling Haaland's winning goal for Manchester City against Manchester United on 13th September. The goal was originally ruled out for offside, VAR intervened and it was eventually awarded, despite Enzo Fernández being in an offside position and making an obvious attempt to play the ball.

To their credit, refereeing body Pro Ref, formerly the PGMOL and perhaps temporarily deserving the name Am Ref, admitted afterwards that an "error of judgement" had been made (it doesn't help, we still lost points!). VAR Matt Donohue should have sent referee Michael Oliver to the pitchside monitor to decide whether Fernández had interfered with play.

For me, this is the problem with VAR in a nutshell.

I'm not against VAR, I like it, it's a great idea, and I certainly don't want to go back to pretending referees and linesmen can see everything perfectly in real time. The technology can help us make better decisions. The problem is that, several years after introducing it, the system and the processes around it still aren't consistently doing what they were designed to do.

Some parts should be as automated as we can reasonably make them. Offside is the obvious example. The Premier League already uses semi-automated offside technology, which is a big improvement on watching somebody manually position lines on a television screen. If technology can establish whether a player is physically onside or offside faster and more accurately than a human being, let it do it.

The Haaland decision also shows the limit of that approach, though. Technology could establish that Haaland was onside and Fernández was offside. What it couldn't decide was whether Fernández was interfering with play. That's still a judgement call, and somehow the process failed to get that judgement in front of the referee standing on the pitch.

I'd also broadcast the VAR conversation live.

We hear referees explaining decisions in rugby and other sports and, even when you disagree with them, at least you understand how they've reached the decision. Football still leaves supporters staring at a referee with his finger to his ear for two or three minutes while commentators try to guess what's happening.

But the biggest change I'd make is even simpler, and again football could pinch the idea from other sports.

Give each team a VAR challenge.

Perhaps the manager or captain gets one challenge per half. If they think the officials have missed something significant, they can ask for the decision to be reviewed. You'd have to put sensible limits around what could be challenged and I'd probably let a team keep its challenge if it was successful, but the basic idea isn't complicated.

In Sunday's Manchester derby, Manchester United would surely have challenged the decision to award the goal. Michael Oliver would then have been sent to the monitor, watched Fernández attempt to head the ball while Lisandro Martínez reacted to him, and made the final decision himself.

Would it slow the game down occasionally? Yes.

But VAR already slows games down. We regularly spend several minutes waiting for decisions while nobody inside the stadium really knows what's going on. If we're going to interrupt the game anyway, I'd rather use that time to give both teams a limited opportunity to say, "You've missed something, have another look."

VAR doesn't need scrapping. It needs simplifying.

Automate the genuinely objective decisions, let us hear how the subjective ones are being discussed, and give teams a limited right to challenge an important decision when they believe the officials have got it wrong.

It still wouldn't eliminate mistakes because human judgement will always be part of football, but it might finally make VAR feel like something designed to help the game rather than something being inflicted upon it.

Rant over! 

Whitbread Trophy Bitter: Recreating My 1980s Pint

Whitbread Trophy Bitter is a beer I remember from when I first started drinking in the 1980s. Like a lot of beers from that period, my memory of it isn't made up of detailed tasting notes; I just remember it as a proper pint of bitter, fairly light in strength, mildly sweet, but with a decent bitterness to it.

I originally found a historical Whitbread Trophy recipe from 1965 and thought that would be an interesting beer to recreate. The problem was that Trophy wasn't really one single beer. Whitbread used the Trophy name across different breweries and regions, often adapting existing local bitters, so the Trophy being poured in Yorkshire during the 1980s could be quite different from a London-brewed version being poured in another pub to some kid "darn sarf".

That sent me looking for the Trophy I might actually have been drinking.

Whitbread Trophy, Sheffield

I always believed that the pint I enjoyed was likely brewed in Sheffield, and I've found some information in Les Howarth's The Home Brewer's Recipe Database, which lists a separate Whitbread Sheffield version of Trophy. 

The source material behind that entry includes Roger Protz's Real Ale Drinker's Almanac from around the end of the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s, which puts it very close to the period I'm trying to recreate.

The Sheffield entry gives the beer as:

• Original Gravity: 1.036
• Bitterness: 24 IBU
• 70% pale malt
• 5% crystal malt
• 10% torrified wheat
• 15% sugar
• Bittering: 80% hop extract, 20% Target
• Dry hop: Goldings

That immediately looks like a very different beer from the older Trophy recipe I was looking at. There's less reliance on malt for the body, a substantial amount of sugar to help keep it dry and drinkable, torrified wheat for head retention, and a hopping schedule that looks wonderfully commercial and very much of its time.

Most of the bitterness came from hop extract, with Target providing the remaining contribution. Target was still a relatively modern British hop during the 1980s and its firm, assertive bitterness fits rather nicely with my memory of Trophy being a noticeably bitter pint.

The Goldings dry hop is also important. Although most of the bitterness came from extract, the finished beer wasn't necessarily devoid of traditional English hop character; the Goldings should give it a restrained floral and earthy aroma without turning it into anything resembling a modern dry-hopped beer.

My 23 Litre Recipe

This is my homebrew reconstruction based on the historical Sheffield information rather than a claim that I've somehow uncovered Whitbread's exact brewhouse sheet. Where the original information doesn't provide a figure, I've kept things simple and tried to make choices that fit the beer and the period.

Ingredient	Amount
British pale malt	2.4 kg
Medium crystal malt	170 g
Torrified wheat	345 g
White brewing sugar	520 g

Those quantities preserve the original 70/5/10/15 proportions and should put a typical homebrew system somewhere around the required gravity. 

Hops

• Target: enough to provide approximately 5 IBU, probably around 4-5 g depending on the alpha acid shown on the packet
• Isomerised hop extract: approximately 2 ml, or enough to provide around 19 IBU according to the manufacturer's dosage
• Goldings: 10-15 g dry hop
• Total bitterness: approximately 24 IBU

The 19 IBU from extract and 5 IBU from Target keeps the original 80/20 bittering split almost exactly, without making the brewday unnecessarily complicated.

Process

• Batch size: 23 litres
• Target OG: 1.036
• Mash: 66°C for 60 minutes
• Boil: 60 minutes
• Target bitterness: 24 IBU
• Expected FG: around 1.008, depending on yeast and fermentation
• Expected ABV: around 3.7%
• Yeast: SafAle S-04 or another suitable Whitbread-style English ale yeast

The 66°C mash temperature is my choice rather than something specified in the historical entry. It seems a sensible middle ground for such a low-gravity beer, particularly with 15% of the fermentables coming from sugar. I want it dry and drinkable, but not watery.

Likewise, the original source simply says that Goldings were used for dry hopping, without giving an amount. Somewhere between 10 g and 15 g in 23 litres feels restrained enough to fit the beer I'm trying to recreate.

The Pint That Thinks It's A Quart!

One of the old Trophy advertising lines described it as having "the body that satisfies", alongside the rather more memorable claim that it was "the pint that thinks it's a quart".

That becomes quite interesting when you look at the recipe. At just 1.036 original gravity this was never a strong beer, but 10% torrified wheat should help with body and head retention while the crystal malt adds a little sweetness and malt character. At the same time, the 15% sugar should keep the finish fairly lean, leaving the 24 IBUs of bitterness plenty of room to show themselves.

It sounds, on paper at least, exactly like the sort of beer I remember from my locals in the 1980s: modest strength, easy to drink, properly bitter, with enough malt and hop character to stop it disappearing into the background.

And that really is the point of this recipe. I'm not trying to create a modern interpretation of Trophy or make it somehow better by replacing the hop extract with fashionable whole hops. If hop extract, Target and a small Goldings dry hop were part of the Sheffield beer, that's what I want to brew.

I haven't actually brewed this version yet, so I can't sit here and claim that one sip transported me straight back to a Yorkshire pub in the 1980s. I simply haven't had time to get it into the fermenter yet.

But I will. Very soon.

And when I do, I'll come back and update this post with the brewday, fermentation figures and, most importantly, whether it tastes anything like the Whitbread Trophy I remember.

Sources and further reading

The recipe has been pieced together from several sources rather than copied from a single modern clone recipe. The most important is Les Howarth's The Home Brewer's Recipe Database, particularly the separate Whitbread Sheffield Trophy entry and Howarth's explanation that percentages for multiple bittering hops are best interpreted by their contribution to total IBUs.

I've also used Ron Pattinson's research into historic Whitbread beers and brewing practices, along with discussions and reconstructions from other British homebrewers, to give the recipe some context. I'll add links to the relevant original material here as I tidy up my notes.

Are We Getting An Electric Car?

So, my wife has started to become interested in electric vehicles and, to be honest, I might be too.

We have a Ford Kuga, and we still have a car loan that runs until next year (£284 a month). I also spend approximately £280–£300 a month on petrol, so the car effectively costs me around £590 a month. Potentially, I could pay less than that for an EV instead; no more buying expensive petrol, much less maintenance, slightly higher insurance perhaps, but lower car tax.

I drive almost 60 miles a day commuting currently, and our longest regular journey is probably a round trip of around 200 miles to see our grandson, which is very doable in a modern electric car. So yeah, let’s look at it and see where it takes us.

After looking at salary sacrifice, we started leaning towards a personal lease instead. Octopus seem to have some good deals on EVs, and my wife particularly liked the Omoda E5 Noble. My only concern was the headroom, as I'm 6'2" and need the clearance!

Anyway, after a week of research, I had a ranked list of potential cars based on the specs.

Rank	Vehicle	Rating
1st	CUPRA Born V1 58 kWh + heat pump	9.2 / 10
2nd	Leapmotor B05 67.1 kWh	8.8 / 10
3rd	Renault Megane E-Tech EV60	8.6 / 10
4th	Leapmotor B10 67.1 kWh	8.3 / 10
5th	Omoda E5 Noble MY25/26	7.8 / 10
6th	Kia EV4 Air Standard Range	7.4 / 10
7th	BYD Dolphin Comfort / Design	7.3 / 10
8th	Hyundai Kona Electric 65 kWh Advance	6.9 / 10
9th	JAECOO E5 Luxury	6.4 / 10
10th	MG S5 EV Long Range	5.9 / 10

OK, so not everything this weekend went quite as expected. We went to the dealership mainly to see whether I could actually fit comfortably in an Omoda E5 Noble at 6'2" (I could, by the way). As it happens, though, my wife decided she didn't like the front grille. While we were there, the salesman mentioned plug-in hybrids.

On the same site was a Chery dealership, so we had a look there too. We didn't really like the look of the cars, so I asked ChatGPT whether a plug-in hybrid might actually suit the way we use a car. With a roughly 60-mile round-trip commute each day, the MG HS PHEV Trophy came up as a particularly interesting option.

Luckily, we were parked right next to an MG dealership.

Long story short, that morning we'd been absolutely certain we wanted an EV. A few hours later, we walked out of the dealership having bought an MG HS PHEV Trophy.

Since then I've looked at my route to work, the 60-mile round trip is based on a motorway route from Knottingley to Doncaster, using mainly A roads, there is a 38-mile a day route, I sense a little competitive driving against the MG HS PHEV 75-mile WLTP, lets see how I do.

Wildfires

The scenes coming out of France and Spain over the past few weeks have been absolutely horrendous. Huge areas of land have been destroyed, homes and communities have been threatened, people have lost their lives and more than 300,000 residents and holidaymakers have been evacuated.

France is experiencing its worst wildfire season on record, while Spain has suffered some of the largest fires in its recent history. These are no longer isolated fires that can simply be contained by a few local fire crews. They are vast, fast-moving emergencies that can overwhelm entire regions and require help from firefighters, aircraft and military personnel from across Europe; and don't think this is just mainland Europe, we get them in the UK too, and they will get worse.

We cannot get away from the role that global warming is playing in all of this. Climate change does not necessarily start a fire, but prolonged heatwaves, drought and extremely dry vegetation create the perfect conditions for one to spread. Western Europe recorded its hottest June on record this year, with widespread dry conditions contributing to increased wildfire activity across Spain and southern France.

In other words, climate change loads the gun, but in most cases it is still human activity that pulls the trigger.

Around 96% of wildfires in the European Union are caused by human actions. Some are started deliberately, but many begin through carelessness or accident: disposable barbecues placed on dry ground, cigarettes thrown into grass (often tossed from vehicles), unattended fires, or sparks and hot material from vehicles and agricultural machinery. During very hot and dry conditions, it only takes one small spark to ignite grass or vegetation that is ready to burn.

Regardless of exactly how each fire started, Europe, including the UK, needs to begin adapting to the conditions we are now facing. Reducing carbon emissions remains essential, but even if the world made dramatic progress tomorrow, hotter and drier summers are already becoming part of our climate. We need to prepare for them.

That will mean more firefighters trained specifically to deal with wildfires and rural incidents, better equipment, improved early-warning systems and proper evacuation plans for communities in vulnerable areas. Fire services designed mainly to deal with house, vehicle and industrial fires may increasingly find themselves facing incidents that behave very differently and cover enormous areas.

Farming and countryside management will also be important. Agricultural machinery needs to be properly maintained and regularly cleared of dust, oil and dry crop material. During periods of extreme risk, farmers may need additional guidance about when machinery can be operated safely and what firefighting equipment should be carried.

Interestingly, farm vehicles, such as tractors and combine harvesters, do not need an MOT.  While they are exempt from standard MOT testing, they are still subject to strict legal requirements regarding roadworthiness, but what about maintenance and standards for working in fields without overheating or causing sparks or heat! Perhaps this is something we need to look into too!

We will also need to think more carefully about how land itself is managed. Firebreaks, ploughed strips, managed grazing, shorter grass, carefully controlled burning and areas of greener, less flammable vegetation can all help reduce the amount of fuel available to a fire. A varied landscape of fields, woodland and managed open ground can sometimes slow a fire in a way that one continuous area of dry grass, scrub or forest cannot.

Interestingly, I was thinking about writing this while driving down the M18 towards Doncaster this morning. There were plenty of fields filled with dry grass and crops, but every so often there would be a freshly ploughed field with little or nothing available to burn. There were also fields containing greener crops, along with boundaries of trees and bushes breaking up the landscape.

Not every hedge or wooded boundary will stop a wildfire, of course. Unmanaged vegetation can sometimes help carry one. However, it did make me wonder whether the patchwork of farmland we already have could become part of our defence, particularly if future agricultural and environmental policies begin to consider wildfire prevention more deliberately.

There will also have to be a change in public behaviour. Disposable barbecues, campfires and cigarettes that may once have seemed relatively harmless can become incredibly dangerous during a heatwave. We already issue warnings about flooding, ice and storms; perhaps clearly communicated wildfire-risk warnings will need to become just as familiar during the summer months.

Wildfires have traditionally felt like something that happens in Australia, California or the hottest parts of southern Europe. That is changing. The UK has already experienced serious grass, moorland and woodland fires, and the conditions that make them possible are becoming more common.

We may not be able to prevent every spark, but we can reduce the chances of one being created, manage the land so that fires have less fuel and make sure our emergency services are properly equipped when one does take hold.

The fires in France and Spain should not be viewed simply as another terrible European disaster. They should be seen as a warning of the conditions we may all increasingly have to live with.

From Over 18 Stone to Here

I’ve been away from my weight-loss journey for a while, but when I recently looked back at the numbers, I realised I’d been overlooking something rather important. Although I haven’t continued losing weight, I haven’t gone all the way back to where I started either. Far from it.

This whole journey for me really began after a New Year trip to London at the end of 2023. On New Year’s Day 2024, I decided I needed to start building some healthier eating habits.

While we were away, I found myself needing an extender for the button on my jeans. Around the same time, I’d also seen a photograph of myself taken at my niece’s wedding, and it showed my weight gain far more clearly than the mirror ever seemed to.

When I got home from London, I stepped onto the scales. I was proper shocked, and honestly quite horrified, to see that I weighed 18st 9.8lb (261.8 lbs or 118.75kg), (I had signed up with a weight loss app while in London on New Years Day and guessed that I weighted about 17st!).  I’m 6ft 2in, so I can carry a fair amount of weight without always realising quite how much is there, but that was far more than I’d expected. I knew I needed to do something about it.

Since then, my weight has gone down, gone back up a little, levelled out and generally wobbled around, as weight tends to do. I can sometimes become a little complacent and stop worrying about it for months at a time, although I actually think taking an occasional break from thinking about weight can be a sensible thing for my mental health.

At my lowest on this journey, I reached just over 15st 4lb (214lb or 97kg) on 22nd Nov 2024. 

As of Friday 28th September 2026, I'm 15st 9.8lb (219.8lbs or 99.7kg) ... yeah I'm heading down to a better weight and a better and healthier me. I've vowed never to see anything like 16st again.

That still means I’m roughly three stone lighter (39.2lbs or 17.8kg) than I was when I came home from London in 2024. I need to remember that, that’s a huge win, because it’s very easy to look at the weight I still want to lose and get disheartened; I shouldn't overlook the weight I’ve already lost.

Right now, I actually feel pretty good about my weight. I need smaller waist sizes than I used to, and some of my clothes are now visibly too big for me. Those are real, noticeable signs of progress that matter far more than the occasional wobble on the scales.

The line on the chart isn’t perfectly straight (and you can see my complacent periods clearly), but the direction from where I started is pretty obvious.

Our cruise leaves on 1st November, and that has given me a very clear next target. I’m determined to get myself much closer to 14st 7lb before we sail. I’m not promising that I’ll definitely hit it, but I do love a BHAG!

I know what works for me. Tracking calories makes me more aware of what I’m eating without pretending that certain foods, or drinks, are forbidden. I read and understand the nutritional labels on food, and I think that’s an important part of this journey for me. It helps me understand how much of something I can eat while still maintaining the calorie deficit I need to lose weight.

Exercise is a trickier one. I have knee pain, so hard aerobic exercise isn’t really an option for me. I’ll need to find movement that works with my knees rather than against them, while accepting that most of my progress will come from what I eat and drink.

That’s the approach for the next few months: calorie tracking (aiming for less that 1,770 a day), better choices, plenty of protein (aiming for at least 100g a day) and daily accountability. Nothing ridiculous, just more consistency and fewer moments when I pretend the calories somehow don’t count.

This note is now out here in the wild too. It might not be read by many people, but I know it exists, and that gives me another little push to follow through.

I started at over 18 and a half stone. I’ve already come a long way, and now I’m ready for the next part.

Nowt To Do With Me, Springs and Hinges

I said something to a work colleague today that took me straight back more than thirty years, and I thought I’d better get the story down before it disappears forever.

I started working for BT, or British Telecom, or British Telecommunications plc depending on how you remember it, back in the days before everything had been smoothed out by the internet. I was there until 1997, when I moved to GPT, (GEC Plessey Telecommunications). That’s a whole other story.

Back in the 80s and 90s, BT still had those old red telephone boxes dotted all over the place. They’re remembered now as lovely bits of British street furniture, very iconic back in the day, but anyone who actually used them will remember a slightly different reality.

They usually smelt of wee. You also felt like you might catch something just by standing in one for too long. And, if you did manage to survive the smell, you then had to battle your way back out through a door held shut by springs so strong you practically needed to be Geoff Capes to open it (anyone under 50 may need to look him up). It was just as difficult sometimes to open these things, and the silly little handles didn't really give you any purchase!

Every so often, our BT office in Leeds would get calls from customers complaining that people were struggling to open the phone box doors, and they wanted someone to do something about it.

One of the departments we had back then was Directories. They managed Directory Enquiries, where operators gave out telephone numbers, and Directory Production, which involved producing those enormous paper phone books that used to land on everyone’s doorstep. Pre-internet life must look almost prehistoric now.

Anyway, the chap who headed up the Directories team in Leeds used to get loads of these “phone box door” calls transferred through to him from the switchboard. I’ve no idea why, other than every phone box had a paper directory in it, so someone must have decided it was vaguely connected.

It wasn’t.

Every now and again, you’d hear him answer one of these calls with something along the lines of:

“Nowt to do with me. Springs and hinges.”

I may have paraphrased that slightly, but that was the gist of it.

The funny thing is, we actually had an engineering team that looked after the springs and hinges in phone boxes. That was a real thing. Somewhere inside BT, there were people whose job included making sure the doors on red telephone boxes opened and closed properly.

So now, every so often, when someone asks me something that has absolutely nothing to do with me, I still find myself saying, “Nowt to do with me. Springs and hinges.”, which I did this morning, and remembering this story brought a smile to my face.

No big reason for this story, really. But that’s what a digital garden is for, isn’t it? A little bit of history, a little bit of nonsense, and something small that made me chuckle today.

The Day I Built a Bomb

When I was about seven or eight years old, back in the mid-70s, kids had a lot more freedom than they do now. Most weekends involved disappearing for hours with your mates, getting filthy, climbing things you shouldn’t climb, and generally causing low-level chaos without adults knowing where you were.

I did once set light to somebody’s garden! But they had cut down their long grass and left it to dry out in Summer. What were they thinking! Looking back, it’s amazing any of us survived childhood intact. BTW, if you lived at 17 Crewe Avenue (Ferrybridge), in the 1970's, I apologise for my behaviour!

At the bottom of our road there was a row of old wooden garages, there are houses there now, but it was about here, it was tucked between our school and the cemetery, with a field for horses on one side. One day we discovered that if you shifted some loose boarding around the back of one of them, you could squeeze inside. 

The garage looked abandoned to us ... honestly. There were car parts everywhere, old paint tins, bits of copper pipe, electrical cable, tools, and a couple of empty gas canisters. To a group of young lads, it looked like buried treasure.

So naturally, we decided to build a “bomb”.

Not a real one obviously. More the sort of ridiculous Heath Robinson contraption only children could invent. We threaded cables through car radiators, stuck pipes into paint tins, connected random bits of metal together, and made the whole thing look as dramatic as possible. 

We thought it was hilarious. None of us had the slightest idea how serious it might appear to somebody else, especially during a time when news about bombs and the troubles in Northern Ireland filled the television almost daily.

The next day, bomb disposal turned up.

I still remember the sinking feeling in my stomach when I saw them there. Even as a kid, I suddenly realised this wasn’t funny any more. We’d actually convinced grown adults that something dangerous had been hidden in that garage. 

Thankfully, after a few tense hours, they packed up and left without blowing anything sky high. Our masterpiece of wires, pipes, and scrap metal had been exactly what it really was ... a pile of junk arranged by bored children with too much imagination.

It still makes me laugh now, but there’s also a strange little lesson buried in it somewhere. Kids often don’t understand the world they’re growing up inside. We were pretending to build something from an adventure film, while the adults around us were seeing something entirely different.

Healthy Dog Treats

We got fed up with only really having unhealthy treats in supermarkets to give Hela, our German Shepherd, so I went hunting for a healthy dog treat recipe that she’d actually enjoy.

And I think I found it.

These are really simple sweet potato dog biscuit recipe. They’re basically just two ingredients, with one optional extra if your pampered pooch fancies a bit more flavour (Hela did).

You’ll need:

• 240g wholemeal flour
• 225g sweet potato, cooked and pureed
• Optional extra: crispy bacon, blended into a powder

I cook the bacon until it’s nice and crispy, then blend it down into a powder before adding it to the mix. You don’t need loads, just enough to give the biscuits that little bacon smell dogs seem to detect from three rooms away. I suppose you could substitute for chicken, or perhaps even cheese or a little peanut butter (although you might have to add a little more flour).

Mix everything together. It’s easier while the sweet potato is still warm, as it helps bring the dough together, don't be afraid to get in with your hands to mix it.

Once mixed, let the dough rest for around 20 to 30 minutes. I’m not entirely sure what the resting actually does, but the biscuits do seem to come out better when the dough has had a bit of time to relax. Maybe biscuits need a breather too.

I then roll them into half golf ball size and squash down a little.

Preheat the oven to 180°C (Gas Mark 4), then bake the biscuits for 20 to 25 minutes (fan oven).

Once they’re done, switch the oven off and leave the biscuits inside until they’ve cooled completely. You’re basically drying them out, which helps them store better and stops them going mouldy.

And that’s it. Simple, cheap, homemade dog treats that Hela absolutely adores, hope your pooch does too.

As with any homemade dog treat, feed in moderation and avoid adding salt, seasoning, onion, garlic, or anything else unsuitable for dogs.

The Father Figure I Didn't Realise I Had

My grandad was Norman Griffiths.

I can't tell you how much I loved my maternal grandad. Even in my early twenties, I used to say that I couldn't wait to become a grandad myself one day.

I lost Grandad in 1994 when I was 27. He was only 72.

Thankfully, one of my daughters gave me my first grandchild, Freddie, in 2025, so I finally got my chance.

The reason I'm writing this is because I've just had a bit of a realisation.

My dad left when I was 11. Looking back, I think Grandad quietly became my father figure after that. I don't think I'd ever consciously thought about it before, but it explains a lot about why I adored him so much.

When I was growing up, he could be a pain and brilliant in equal measure.

There were the ruddy chin pinches and the times he'd trap me between his legs so I couldn't escape. As a child, that was endlessly annoying. Looking back now, I'd probably give anything to experience it one more time.

We weren't a wealthy family, but my grandparents always seemed to find a way. They bought some of our best Christmas presents, and I'm fairly sure they helped pay for our annual holidays to Great Yarmouth.

More importantly, Grandad taught me things that had nothing to do with money. He helped shape the person I became. The older I get, the more I realise how much of my outlook, values, and approach to life came from him.

It's funny how some things take decades to understand.

I always knew I loved my grandad.

What I've only just realised is that, after my dad left, he became the man I looked up to most.

Love you, Grandad.

England’s Best World Cup XI (2026)

Every tournament, England fans end up having the same argument.

Who exactly is our best team, our best 11 for the 2026 FIFA World Cup.

So as I smashed my Fastasy Premier League mini leagues again this season, I started thinking about how you’d actually build an England side if you stripped away reputation, nostalgia, social media hype, and all the endless “he’s world class” noise that follows certain players around (you know who you are).

Instead, I kept it simple.

Goals matter. Assists matter. Clean sheets matter too. Simple isn’t it for the best team.

For this little experiment, goals are worth 5 points, assists are worth 2, clean sheets are worth 5, and defenders or goalkeepers playing in teams that concede one goal or fewer per game get another 2 points.

Straight away, something interesting happens.

The side starts picking itself.

Not the most exciting England team. Not the most fashionable one either. But probably the one best built to survive international tournament football, which is often slow, tense, tactical, and decided by moments rather than domination.

The Formation

I’ve gone with a 4-3-3.

Not because it seems to be a trendy formation right now, but because it still gives the best balance between defensive shape and attacking threat. 

Also, the England squad don’t spend enough time together to play complicated systems properly, so you need a structure players either play in today or can understand very quickly.

Also a good 4-3-3 played well naturally shifts shape during matches as you gain possession then defend.

Without the ball it should become compact and difficult to break down, plenty of pressing. With the ball, we need our forwards out wide to stretch the pitch while the midfielders push up and support the attack in a coordinated layer rather than chaos.

Most importantly, it stops England trying to squeeze four number tens into the same side and hoping for magic. Like we have done before.

My Initial Team

GK: Jordan Pickford

People still seem strangely reluctant to give Pickford proper credit, but England’s defensive record with him is excellent.

I think he actually suits tournament football. He’s vocal, aggressive, quick off his line, and usually reliable when the pressure rises. He also has that slightly unhinged goalkeeper energy that great international keepers seem to possess.

You don’t always need the world’s best goalkeeper. Sometimes you just need one who consistently turns into a nightmare to beat in tournament football.

RB: Kyle Walker

I don't like the guy, and there are technically better right-backs available.

But Walker still gets in because recovery pace saves goals.

International football becomes dangerous when games stretch late on. One loose pass, one tired midfielder, one counter attack, and suddenly a centre-back is isolated. Walker cleans up situations most defenders simply cannot recover from.

His experience matters too. England sides in the past have sometimes looked mentally fragile in big moments. Walker rarely does, and he has that "hoof it out" mentality that I love on the back line.

CB: John Stones

I hate to admit it because I hate his style of play, but England still look calmer when Stones plays.

He carries the ball well, often reads danger early, and can (on good days) give the whole side composure. International football is full of nervous clearances and rushed decisions. Stones slows games down when England need control. For me though he still loves to play the with the ball at his feet too much.

He also suits a back four far more naturally than some of England’s other centre-back options.

CB: Marc Guéhi

Not flashy. Not constantly discussed. Just dependable.

Guéhi feels like one of those players managers quietly trust because he does the boring bits properly. His positioning is good, he stays calm under pressure, and he rarely turns matches into unnecessary drama.

That matters more in tournaments than people admit.

LB: Lewis Hall

This is probably my boldest selection, but I've already spoken to a few lads at work today and he'd be in their teams too.

Hall gives England something they often lack from deeper areas: genuine energy and width without becoming reckless. Modern full-backs have to contribute going forward now (like old fashioned wing-backs). Sitting deep for 90 minutes just invites pressure.

Hall also looks very comfortable receiving the ball in tight areas, which England badly need against compact sides that like to push.

DM: Declan Rice

Automatic selection here, I'm not a fan of Arsenal, but they are a solid unit.

Rice does the ugly work that allows other players to shine. He covers space quickly, protects the defence, wins second balls, and stops transitions before they become dangerous; he also likes to sometimes play an attacking role when his teams are in control, he's never reckless about it.

And while I hate agreeing with a friend of mine, you're right Owen, you notice players like Rice most when they’re missing.

CM: Jude Bellingham

Bellingham is the complete modern tournament midfielder.

He scores goals, creates chances, carries the ball through pressure, and seems completely unfazed by big occasions. There’s also a physical edge to him that England sides have sometimes lacked in midfield.

He already plays like somebody who believes he belongs at the highest level. That confidence spreads through teams.

CM: Cole Palmer

This was the hardest call, he's not had the best domestic season, but he's a player that likes to be noticed, so he's on the ball a lot, and hes got a decent distribution.

Palmer is there for goals, assists, and the big moments.

Palmer also has something slightly unusual for a young player. Nothing about him seems rushed. He plays at his own pace, even when matches become frantic around him.

That calmness feels very useful in knockout football.

RW: Bukayo Saka

Saka is probably England’s most complete attacking player right now.

He's a very reliable player. He has some intelligent movement with and without the ball. He's solid defensively when needed, and just consistent.

He rarely disappears from matches completely, which is surprisingly rare for attacking players, especially at international level.

I suppose in one word, he's trustworthy.

ST: Harry Kane

I really wish he wasn't, but I think he's still England’s best striker my a mile.

He gets himself into excellent positions and the goals keep coming, he has a excellent passing range which causes problems for defenders dropping too deep.

There are quicker forwards available. But better finishers? Strikers that are pretty decent at set-pieces and hardly misses penalties ... probably not.

LW: Anthony Gordon

International football desperately needs runners, and boy can this lad run.

Too many technically gifted teams become slow because everyone wants the ball into feet (yes Liverpool and Spurs, I'm looking at you).  Gordon stretches defences constantly, he runs beyond defenders, attacks space aggressively, and forces teams backwards.

All this creates room for Kane, Bellingham, and Palmer to operate centrally.

You can see it in defenders, there's something slightly irritating about playing against him.

So that's it

The interesting thing about building a side by simply scoring players is how quickly the balance started to show.

The best international football rarely goes to the prettiest side, it normally goes to the team that stays organised, survives difficult moments, and has enough quality to punish mistakes when they come along.

This England side feels closer to that than some of the wildly attacking versions people keep trying to build on paper every summer.

Update: Tuchel’s Starting XI

The wait is over, as I write this we are 60 minutes from kick-off against Croatia, and things have now got interesting.

Thomas Tuchel’s starting England XI is now out for the Croatia game, and it’s closer to my thinking than I actually expected.

England are set up in a 4-2-3-1:

Pickford; James, Stones, Konsa, O’Reilly; Anderson, Rice; Madueke, Bellingham, Gordon; Kane.

That isn’t exactly my 4-3-3, but it’s not a million miles away either.

The main difference is the midfield. I had Rice holding with Bellingham and Palmer either side. Tuchel has gone safer, using Rice and Anderson as a double pivot, then pushing Bellingham into the number 10 role behind Kane which is a good move and one I bet Bellingham will relish.

Croatia are still the sort of side that can punish loose midfield spacing. They’ve got experience, rhythm, and they like to hold up play and pass with uber deliberacy (is that a word?) that makes games feel slower than they really are. So Tuchel has clearly prioritised control before chaos (the right move).

The Saka situation also explains Madueke on the right. If Saka is being managed because of the Achilles problem, Madueke gives England direct running without asking Saka to push through a game he might not be fully ready for.

Gordon starting on the left is pleasing from the point of view of my original selection. I wanted that runner in the front three. England need someone who stretches the pitch and gives Kane, Bellingham and Rice more room to play, Gordon will do that. Plus Gordon can play in the middle too.

Konsa coming in also fits my defensive reliability idea, he's not who I would have picked, but I guess he’s a quick defender who just plays sensible football and doesn't shout 'look at me' (yes I'm looking at you Stones).

So, while I’d still have picked Palmer in my own version, Tuchel’s team does follow the same broad idea:

Keep the structure strong. Protect the middle. Use direct wide players. Let Bellingham play close to Kane.

It’s not the most romantic England XI, but World Cups are rarely won by romance.

They’re usually won by teams that stay compact, make fewer mistakes, and have enough quality in the final third to punish the one or two openings that actually arrive.

I heard an interview with Kane a couple of days ago where he said that the fans like to see England play attractive football, I don’t give a shit Harry, I want a team that will win, not one that will put on a theatre performance. Nothing wrong with winning ugly.

Prediction Corner

Just for fun, I’m going to keep track of some world cup predictions during the tournament.

Knock out is the score after AET.

My wife wanted to be part of this too, so here are our game predications with the actual results. No pressure, obviously. Apart from the entire internet being able to check later. Oh yeah, and I let ChatGPT predict the results too.

Match	Mine	Wife	ChatGPT	Actual Result
England v Croatia	2-1 England	2-0 England	2-1 England	4-2 England
England v Ghana	3-1 England	3-1 England	3-1 England	0-0
Panama v England	3-1 England	4-0 England	2-0 England	2-0 England
England v DR Congo	3-1 England	2-0 England	2-0 England	2-1 England
Mexico v England	3-1 England	1-0 England	2-1 England	3-2 England
England v Norway	2-1 England	1-0 England	2-1 England	2-1 England
England v Argentina	2-1 England	2-0 England	2-1 England	2-1 Argentina

So its not coming home! I asked ChatGPT whether it wanted to make a final comment on the prediction game and it did want to say that it wins bragging rights and awarded itself a gold medal, which I guess is fair I suppose.

Of the four players who scored for England during the tournament (Kane, Bellingham, Gordon and Rashford), it was only Rashford that I didn't pick for my squad, so I'm happy with that (although who knows what might have happened if he picked Palmer!).

Rather than who won or didn't win the predictions and me judging who our best 11 are, actually the nicest takeaway from the whole thing was that it became part of following England through the tournament, with all the optimism, disappointment and second-guessing that comes with it. See you all in four years time.

Letting Them In (Mild Horror)

Yes, that ending works much better. Here’s the updated HTML with the SPAG fixes and that changed line. ```html

I thought I was just tired.

That was the strange thing about it. I didn’t feel dangerously exhausted. I wasn’t falling asleep at my desk or drifting off in meetings. I just felt slightly out of step with myself, like my brain was lagging behind everything else by a fraction of a second.

We’d just come back from holiday and the shift back into normal life had completely wrecked my sleep pattern. One week I was wandering around Spain in the sunshine with no alarms and nowhere urgent to be, then suddenly it was back to work, deadlines, emails, and lying awake at three in the morning staring at the ceiling for no obvious reason.

The night before had felt fairly normal. Not great sleep, but enough to get through the next day. At least that’s what I thought until I checked my sleep app the following morning.

SLEEP: 2hrs:11mins

Deep: 33%

Light: 24%

REM: 8%

Awake: 35%

I remember staring at the screen for a while because the numbers didn’t even seem possible. I’d spent longer than that lying in bed. Somehow my brain had barely switched off at all, although I thought I was asleep. Initially confused, I then blamed my sleep app for just being wrong, but ... I was very tired.

The effects of my tiredness started showing almost immediately at work. Nothing dramatic, just little mistakes that kept irritating me because they weren’t the sort of mistakes I usually make. Typos in emails. Wrong filenames. At one point I wrote down a project delivery date that had already passed. Tiny things, but enough to notice. Enough that I started feeling uneasy about how disconnected my thoughts felt.

Physically, I felt OK, but couldn’t stop the urge to yawn all the time and my eyes were feeling gritty in that way they do late at night.

Around eleven that morning I went and got a couple of minutes of fresh air, then to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.

Our large workplace kitchen sits off a long corridor to the office, and the lights outside are motion activated. They always take a second or two too long to register you and burst into life, so when you open the kitchen door the corridor sits in this awkward half-darkness for a moment.

I pushed the door open and something black and low to the ground moved quickly past my feet.

This wasn't a case that I thought I saw something, I mean I physically reacted to it. I bent my legs instinctively to avoid it bumping into me. The reaction was immediate, completely automatic, like somebody avoiding a dog running across their path.

Then the corridor lights flicked on, I looked around, but nothing was there.

No shadow disappearing around the corner. No bag on the floor. No movement at all. Just an empty corridor and the gentle hum of fluorescent lighting.

I stood there for a few seconds, the door had shut behind me and the tea was still sloshing around in my mug, trying to process what had just happened. The unsettling part wasn’t what I’d seen. It was how convincingly real it had felt. My body had reacted before my brain had time to question it.

I shook it off as a trick of the light, got back to my desk and carried on with my day, although I kept replaying the moment in my head. Every now and then I’d catch myself glancing down corridors slightly too quickly, or looking twice into empty rooms without really meaning to, but probably subconsciously looking for something.

That evening as my wife and I settled in to watch some TV, I picked up my phone and started reading about sleep deprivation.

That was probably a mistake.

Once you start reading deeply enough into severe sleep loss, you realise how fragile the brain actually is. People who miss enough REM sleep begin experiencing something called REM intrusion, where fragments of dreaming begin bleeding into waking consciousness. Hallucinations, movement in peripheral vision, shadow figures, distorted faces. The brain, desperate to complete the dreaming cycle it’s been denied, starts forcing parts of it into reality.

At least that’s the official explanation.

The thing that bothered me was how similar all the accounts sounded.

People described the same shapes. The same movement. The same feeling that whatever they’d seen wasn’t random. Some of them even described the exact same instinctive reaction I’d had, where their body responded before their conscious mind did. I found a couple of online forums, and Reddit provided some fascinating discussions around sleep, hallucinations, and narcolepsy.

Much of my research made me a little uneasy, not fearful, mainly because what I felt seemed strangely familiar.

That night I barely slept at all. Partly because my sleep pattern was already ruined, but mostly because every time I started drifting off I kept thinking about that thing in the corridor. My rational brain knew there had been nothing there, but another part of me seemed less convinced.

At around half past two in the morning I got up to get a glass of water. As I walked back upstairs I glanced absent-mindedly into the spare bedroom and saw someone standing beside the window.

I stopped instantly. There were only two of us in the house, and that wasn't my wife standing there.

The figure didn’t move. It was tall, unnaturally still, one arm hanging slightly lower than the other. For a moment I genuinely believed somebody had broken into the house.

Then I switched the landing light on and the room was empty. I went around the house and checked all the doors and windows, but I didn’t sleep properly after that.

The next few days became increasingly difficult to explain away. I started noticing movement where there shouldn’t be movement. A dark figure at the far end of a supermarket aisle that disappeared when I reached it. Someone sitting motionless in a parked car outside work who vanished the second time I looked. Once, while driving home late in the evening, I became convinced somebody was sitting silently in the back seat behind me.

That one frightened me enough that I had to pull over, get out of the car, and check the back seat and boot.

The strange thing is that these 'visions' never move once you properly focus on them. You only ever catch the movement beforehand, that brief glimpse of approach at the edge of your vision. Once you actually look at them directly, they’re completely still.

Watching. Waiting.

By then I was sleeping with the television on because silence had started making me uncomfortable. Every creak of the house sounded deliberate. Every dark reflection in the windows made me pause slightly longer than it should have.

Everywhere else I was becoming more wary of opening doors and walking into rooms, mildly worried about what I might see.

The exhaustion was building. The less sleep I got, the more often I saw them. Then seeing them made sleeping even harder. It became a loop that fed itself night after night.

I tried all the sensible explanations first.

Stress. Fatigue. Anxiety. Too much caffeine. Too much alcohol. Eating late at night. Poor sleep hygiene.

I went to the doctor. I cut down caffeine and alcohol completely, and I stopped eating after 8pm. I tried meditation apps, sleeping tablets, breathing exercises, all the normal advice people give you when your brain starts betraying you a little ... but none of it helped.

Three nights ago I woke at around four in the morning and saw one standing beside the bed, not near it, beside it.

Tall. Thin. Completely motionless. Its face looked almost human in the same way mannequins look almost human. Close enough at first glance, but wrong in tiny ways once you looked properly. The eyes were too still. The expression slightly delayed, like it was copying what a human face should look like rather than understanding it naturally.

I couldn’t move at first. Not because I was particularly scared, but because some buried instinct was telling me not to fully acknowledge what I was looking at.

The thing leaned closer until its face was inches from mine, and then it whispered something.

Not words exactly. More like a thought pressed directly into my head.

You’re letting us in. You’re letting us in. You’re letting us in. It kept repeating.

I don’t remember falling asleep afterward, but I woke properly just after sunrise with the bedroom empty and my heart hammering hard enough to hurt.

I called in sick to work that morning. I was too exhausted and my mental state just wasn't in the right place.

I was sat on the sofa all morning, casually aware that life was happening around me, but also deeply aware that something just wasn't right. These events just didn't feel like hallucinations, they felt very real. I continued my research, trying to understand what was happening. My thoughts wouldn’t settle. Even sitting still, I felt wired and exhausted at the same time.

Around lunchtime my wife casually asked why I’d been standing in the garden during the night.

I shot her a puzzled look and told her I hadn’t.

She looked immediately uncomfortable, like she regretted mentioning it at all, then quietly said she’d seen me through the bedroom window sometime around three in the morning.

Apparently I’d been standing completely still at the bottom of the garden facing the house. I was just staring up at the bedroom window.

Last night I finally understood what they are.

People think sleep deprivation causes hallucinations because the brain is failing. I don’t think that’s true anymore.

I think exhaustion weakens something. Some barrier between us and whatever these things are. That’s why they stay hidden in microsleeps and fragments of REM sleep, appearing only in glimpses and peripheral movement at first. They need you exhausted before you can properly perceive them.

And once you do, they start getting closer, much closer.

They don’t kill people. At least not physically. What they want is quieter than that. They replace you slowly, and carefully.

By the time it happens properly, nobody notices at first. You still remember names, routines, conversations. The thing now wearing you uses your memories like instructions from a manual.

Only the people closest to you sense something wrong. A slight delay before you smile. An odd flatness behind your eyes. Moments where you become strangely still and distant without realising it.

Tonight I’m trying not to sleep. But every time I blink I catch movement near the bedroom door. Something standing there patiently in the dark.

Waiting.

And deep down, somewhere beneath the exhaustion, I think I already know the worst part.

I don’t think they’ve been trying to get into the house.

I think they’ve been trying to get into me.

Biscuit Moon (Kids)

Once the rain had stopped, little drops of water still clung to the windows outside Freddie’s bedroom.

“Freddie!” Mum called from downstairs. “Are you ready yet? Nana and Grandy will be here soon!”

“I can’t find it!” Freddie shouted back.

“Can’t find what?” asked his mum, but Freddie didn’t respond. His head was tucked under the bed.

After looking under his bed for the third time, Freddie looked in one of his many toy boxes, then under his chair. But his bright red racing car was nowhere to be seen, and this wasn’t just any car. This was his favourite one.

There was a knock on the door.

"Freddie" his dad called, "Nana and Grandy are here."

Freddie sighed. A moment later he heard Grandy’s cheerful voice.

“Where’s our little man?” he shouted upstairs.

Freddie slowly walked downstairs. “What’s wrong?” Nana asked gently.

“I can’t find my car,” Freddie mumbled. “I wanted to show you it.”

“The bright red one?” said Grandy.

Freddie nodded sadly.

“Well,” Nana smiled, “the rain’s stopped now, and it’s turned into a lovely bright day.”

“And,” she added cheerfully, “I happen to know the park has some excellent puddles today.”

That made Freddie smile a little.

So off they went.

The park smelled fresh after the rain. Tiny puddles glittered along the winding paths, and the wet grass sparkled in the sunshine.

Whilst Nana and Grandy walked side by side, Freddie raced ahead in his little green wellies. He held his hands out like he was holding a steering wheel, and as he raced along, he made a quiet “brum, brum, brum” noise.

SPLASH.

He jumped in a little puddle.

SPLASH.

He jumped in an even bigger one that sent water flying everywhere.

Nana laughed. “I think that puddle nearly got Grandy!”

“Nearly?” said Grandy. “I think it soaked my socks!”

Freddie giggled and ran off again.

They watched ducks swimming across the pond. They counted dogs. They spotted a squirrel playing in some nearby trees.

By the time Freddie finally sat beside Nana and Grandy on a wooden bench, his cheeks were warm and pink from all the running.

As Freddie sat between them, Grandy gave Nana a knowing smile.

“What?” Freddie asked.

Grandy looked down at Freddie as Nana put an arm around her little grandson.

“Shall we tell Freddie about the Biscuit Moon?” he said quietly.

Nana’s eyes widened slightly.

“Oh…” she said quietly. “Yes. I think he’s old enough now.”

Freddie sat up straight and looked at them both.

“The Biscuit Moon?” he asked.

Nana reached into her bag, pulled out a small packet of biscuits, and handed them around. “Oh yes,” she smiled. “The Biscuit Moon.”

“Before you eat one,” Grandy whispered, “you have to snap it in half.”

“All at the same time,” Nana added. “Quite right, Nana,” Grandy replied. “I almost forgot that.”

Freddie held his biscuit carefully in both hands and watched Nana and Grandy raise theirs.

“One, two, three,” Nana said.

On three, they all broke their biscuits into two pieces.

“Good,” Nana smiled as she took a bite from hers.

“But what is the Biscuit Moon?” Freddie asked as he took a bite from one of his halves.

Grandy looked up at the pale daytime moon hanging above the clouds.

“Well,” he said quietly, “most people think the moon only comes out at night to shine.”

“But really,” Nana added, “the Biscuit Moon listens.”

Freddie looked up at the sky. “Listens to what?” he asked.

“Just listens,” Nana replied. “But it always seems to leave a little bit of happiness behind.”

“Nobody really knows how it works,” Grandy smiled. “It just does.”. “Not huge things,” continued Grandy. “Just little bits of happiness.”

“Like what?” Freddie asked.

Nana thought for a moment.

“Feeling better after being poorly,” she said, “or finding an extra sweet in your pocket when you think you’ve finished them.”

“Seeing someone you really hoped to see,” added Grandy.

“Or spotting a rainbow when you least expect it,” continued Nana. “Just something special and magical.”

Freddie looked down at the last half of the biscuit still in his hands.

“The Biscuit Moon seems to like shared biscuits best,” Nana explained softly.

So the three of them sat together on the park bench and finished eating their biscuits while the breeze rustled the trees around them.

And high above them, faint and pale in the bright afternoon sky, the moon quietly listened.

Freddie smiled to himself. It was probably just one of those funny little stories grandparents liked to tell.

Still, as he walked home between Nana and Grandy, holding both their hands, he secretly hoped the Biscuit Moon might really be listening after all.

The next morning, Freddie woke early.

The sunlight shone a beam of light across his room and over his blanket.

He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and was about to drop off to sleep again, when he spotted something, and then suddenly froze.

There, sitting neatly beside his pillow, was his bright red racing car.

Freddie grabbed it quickly. “The car!” he shouted, racing downstairs.

Mum looked up from the kitchen.

“You found it then?” she smiled.

“Did you put it there?” Freddie asked.

Mum shook her head.

“No, Freddie. But I’m pleased you found it again.”

Freddie looked down at his favourite toy.

Then he remembered the park. The biscuits. The story. The pale moon in the daytime sky.

A tiny smile spread across his face.

Very quietly, so only he could hear, Freddie whispered:

“Thank you, Grandy and Nana. And thank you, Biscuit Moon.”