Euro Footy, Nordic Noir and a Guest Post

That was one hell of a Saturday. I had a guest post appear not once but twice (albeit edited in the second instance) then watched Chelsea pip Bayern Munich in the final of the European Champion’s League and to round the night off, I took in the final two episodes of The Bridge.

Note: fans of the latter who have not yet seen it, can safely read on. There are no spoilers in this post.

The guest post appeared on Maureen Vincent-Northam’s blog yesterday lunchtime-ish. It hinges on research for fiction authors and the way they can use Maureen’s latest book, Trace Your Roots. I’ll say no more than that, and you and read it for yourself, here.

Mo was obviously so impressed (or so desperate for content) that she also put it up on her Trace Your Roots site, but with the blatant plugs for my books removed.

And so to the Champion’s League Final.

I’ve been a follower of the beautiful game ever since I could walk, and I’ve hated Chelsea with an absolute passion ever since I lost a bet on them in 1970 (we Robinsons have long memories). However, I have to congratulate them on last night’s victory. In a poor final, they were totally outplayed, completely dominated, and rode their luck on occasions, but they managed to beat Bayern on a penalty shoot out.

Bayern have only themselves to blame. According to the Beeb, they had 34 shots on goal, 21 of them on target, yet scored only one goal. By comparison, Chelsea had only 9 shots on goal, 6 on target, and managed to score one goal.

I did get annoyed when John Terry and Branislav Ivanovic both banned for the match, joined the party and collected medals. After all, Paul Scholes and Roy Keane, both similarly disqualified for the 1999 final, didn’t get medals when Manchester United beat Bayern Munich.

One spot of research later (without the assistance of Trace Your Roots) indicated that Scholesey and Keano DID collect medals in 1999. Oops.

So congratulations, Chelsea. I won’t say the best team won, because we went out in the earlier rounds, but a win is a win.

The CL Final didn’t finish until about 11 o’clock so I recorded the finale of The Bridge and the moment the footy was over, Her Indoors and yours truly settled down with a brew and a butty to watch it.

Superb. That’s all I can say.

By the time we reached the end of episode 8 last week, I knew who the killer was. I knew who his real target was and why. But I did not guess the way the drama would unfold. This was genuine nail-biter right down to the last few minutes.

True there were a few holes left unplugged, and there were subplots totally unrelated to the ongoing drama except in the most remote manner. Stefan, for instance, and what was the business with Charlotte?

That’s nitpicking, however, and it should not be allowed to detract from what was a fine drama.

It was in Swedish and Danish and Her Indoors did have a problem with the subtitles. No worries for me. I’m so hard of hearing, I use subtitles all the time.

If The Bridge, The Killing, Wallender, et al have taught us anything it’s that there s an audience for this kind of dark drama, but we’re too busy producing cheap tripe like Britain’s Got Talent (an oxymoron in my opinion) X-Factor and Strictly Come Break Your Neck. Come on you guys in TV land, the rights to The Handshaker are available.

So that’s it. A mega Saturday by any standards, leaving me with only one problem. What am I gonna do of a Saturday night between now and the start of the Euros in just over a fortnight?