7" 3
Random single rescued from my parents' house.
For someone who sport was not important, this is a bit of an oddity. There was a sense, when I was younger, that you were expected to support a football/soccer team. I chose Chelsea because I had a family connection to the Kensington/Chelsea area, because they were a team I'd heard of who weren't rubbish and (this is the real clue to what was going on in my head) I liked the shade of blue they wore.
On a side note. One day, when I was about seven, my dad and I were wandering through London and decided to go into the Sepentine Gallery. I remember my dad saying, "Free, my favourite price," which I thought was really funny. We pottered about, looking at the art and then I found myself hypnotized by a big, square of blue. The kind of painting the 'modern art' haters decry for not being a proper painting.
I continued to stare at it until dad tapped me on the should and we walked back into town. I believe it was an Yves Klein painting, although I didn't find out for sure until over a decade later. The hypnotising blue never left me. Neither did my dad's habit of not criticising what he didn't understand. Neither, as it turns out, did 'Blue is the Colour.'
For someone who sport was not important, this is a bit of an oddity. There was a sense, when I was younger, that you were expected to support a football/soccer team. I chose Chelsea because I had a family connection to the Kensington/Chelsea area, because they were a team I'd heard of who weren't rubbish and (this is the real clue to what was going on in my head) I liked the shade of blue they wore.
On a side note. One day, when I was about seven, my dad and I were wandering through London and decided to go into the Sepentine Gallery. I remember my dad saying, "Free, my favourite price," which I thought was really funny. We pottered about, looking at the art and then I found myself hypnotized by a big, square of blue. The kind of painting the 'modern art' haters decry for not being a proper painting.
I continued to stare at it until dad tapped me on the should and we walked back into town. I believe it was an Yves Klein painting, although I didn't find out for sure until over a decade later. The hypnotising blue never left me. Neither did my dad's habit of not criticising what he didn't understand. Neither, as it turns out, did 'Blue is the Colour.'
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