I was going to write this blog some seven hours ago. About the phenomenal energy of the men’s team on Saturday, wanting praise the whole team while singling out Declan Rice’s gut-bursting sprint the length of the pitch to arrive from nowhere to collect a pass from Jesus before scoring the third goal. Or the energy, determination and sheer bloody-mindedness pf the women’s team not to lose, even though any points they took would help arch-rivals Chelsea more than benefit them – yet, but they wouldn’t settle until they scored the winner.
But standing by my front door since the end of last week has been a large brown package. A shoe rack. Not any shoe rack. A DIY assembly shoe rack. I did ask my wife why we needed one as we already had a rack storing shoes but I don’t recall the response.
I might have muttered under my breath if we need one why must it be self-assembly? Or asked, ‘Don’t John Lewis sell them pre-assembled?’ Or remind her how I utterly loathe DIY with flatpacks. It’s practically folklore in our family how bad I am at it, my utter uselessness is legend. I’m not sure which came first, the uselessness or the loathing. Perhaps they feed off each other.
But come this morning, it was raining, my wife with things of her own to deal with, so I decided that the package’s silent gloating could not continue. And, the instructions very specifically claimed that assembly would take only an hour. What’s more, all the parts were carefully coded with letters and numbers, and even the different screws needed were easy to identify as the instructions had life-size images of them. For once, a piece of gateau, surely. I felt confident that I could knock it off straight after breakfast and have it ready in time for a coffee, rewarding myself with three chocolate Hobnobs and begin this blog.
I was not long into the process, having laid out all the components on a table, and put protective surfaces on the floor so neither the shoe rack nor the carpet was at risk of damage, when I suddenly recalled other factors leading to my loathing of self-assembly kits. I never have the right tools. The instructions are invariably drawn with arrows and dots to show what to do, but with some tiny detail missing. And they never show which way up, which way the veneer should be facing, or show how to make part AZ41 fit into part BZ19. And there’s nearly always a piece missing. Did it come like that or has it fallen on the floor and rolled under a skirting board or been swallowed by a goat I didn’t see come into the house while I was trying to understand the instructions?
Seven waste hours later, with my fingers sore from manipulating the wrong tools or trying to hold screws in place in pre-drilled holes that were not pre-drilled for the screws provided, the shoe rack stands proudly in the basement, incomplete, some pieces needing to be disassembled and reassembled around the right way, but not until the suppliers send us a vital missing component. I tried, I really tried. I even went online for a helpdesk (none) or video demonstration (three but one was so low quality you couldn’t make out what was going on and the narration was in Spanish, and the other two were in time-lapse to music which, when you’re looking for detail to copy, or some simple explanation to a problem, is about as useless as VAR at Newcastle).
So now I’m writing this blog, wondering if Declan Rice had a nice day, or wasted it assembling a flatpack, or if Alessia Russo was relaxing in a spa or spent the last seven hours trying to reach a plumber and struggling beneath a sink trying to sort a U-bend.
I’m back to hoping that Fulham, Sperz and West Ham put in as much effort against Citeh in the next fortnight, even though for them they’re dead rubbers, with the same energy and commitment Arsenal Women showed at the weekend, even though the outcome did nothing for their final WPL placing. We all know it’s been a long, hard season and, with fates already sealed, the beach beckons. But I wish I could be as confident in the professionalism and commitment of Citeh’s opponents as I am that ManUre and Everton have enough pride to be going full pelt.
As for me, I’m thinking the best therapy to my anxiety over the final weeks of the season would be to set off for the beach. But I can’t. I can’t find my sandals or flip-flops. What I need is a new shoe rack….
Richard Smith 6/5/24