Monday
Herbie is now 13 years old. Which, depending on how you measure it, puts him somewhere in the 80s in dog years. For his last birthday, friends gave him some treats that claim to improve his joints. Now I took glucosamine for years in an attempt to make my knees marginally less creaky and never felt any improvement. But whatever ingredients – I’m guessing WD40 is loaded with amphetamines – they put in these doggy ‘joint care’ chews, they seem to have had a miraculous effect. A while back I wrote about how Herbie had torn a ligament in his hind leg and that the vet had recommended surgery. A number of you wrote to me to say that they should not trouble the operation. His leg would just as well heal on its own. We took the advice and – guess what? – you were absolutely right. So thank you for saving Herbie a painful operation and three months of rehab and for saving us £4K. But in the last few weeks since taking the daily chew, Herbie’s recovery has taken another quantum leap forward. He now runs around with the energy and freedom of movement he showed when he was five. We cannot quite believe the change in him. Then again, maybe he’s just enjoying life as a minor celebrity since his memoir, teased by me, came out last week. He and I had a minor falling out: he accused me of downplaying his contribution to public life – he began his career as a special adviser to Ed Miliband in 2014 and has since worked in No 10 for every Prime Minister – for comic effect. Anyway, Herbie and I have since made up. So if you want to know what happened to the potted plants, what Larry the Cat is really like, who was behind Kabul Pet Rescue, and what goes on in meetings with Canines Anonymous, please buy Taking the Lead. It’s the most accurate account of the last 10 years you’ll ever read.
Tuesday
I seem to be the only person in Westminster who wasn’t offered free tickets to Taylor Swift. Or maybe I was and just deleted the email. A shame, because I could have been the first to turn down the offer. Unlike some of the journalists who have persecuted Keir Starmer. While I try hard, I really struggle with the Taylor Swift freebie story. First, I can’t figure out why Labor has let the story rumble on for more than a week with a series of weak responses. Why not just come out with the truth right from the start? Swift had been the target of bomb threats in Vienna and to ensure she was as safe as possible in London, the police gave her blue light treatment to get to Wembley. Her management handing out free tickets and a 10-minute brush-by is neither here nor there. These are the kinds of perks that are always offered to those in power regardless. The idea that Taylor spent those 10 minutes negotiating a tax break is ludicrous. That’s what she has accountants for. OK, so it doesn’t look good, but it’s nowhere near as bad as Boris Johnson having his holiday in Mustique paid for by someone else. Hell, Boris didn’t even pay for his own wedding and the right-wing media never once complained.
The reality is that freebies are priced into the lives of the rich and powerful. If you want to know how the world really works, take a look at this week’s investment summit in London. Here, CEOs of some of the biggest companies were invited to the Guildhall, where they got to hang out with the Prime Minister, the Chancellor and the rest of the Cabinet for a whole day. Given all the time they needed to explain exactly what they required from the government to invest in the UK. And at the end of the day, Elton John was called out of retirement to give a private concert to a few hundred people. All must be filed under oiling the wheels of business. I think it is OK that the Prime Minister is offering for free. Just not to receive them.
Wednesday
It’s been seven months since I had my heart attack and everything is looking good. I have been released from my fitness rehab with a clean bill of health. My blood pressure and heart rate are perfect. My latest blood test came back with the observation that my cholesterol was in danger of getting too low. I didn’t realize that was an option. But saying I’m healthy doesn’t really tell the whole story. My heart attack is always in the back of my mind. It never goes away properly. Every day I wonder if I want another one and if this is the one killing me. Knowing that the surgeon freed a coronary artery and that my other stats are good counts for a bit. After all, I was fine before the attack. I now feel vulnerable in a way that I did not before the event. My mortality stares me in the face and I am aware of my own frailty. Every time I go to the gym – three or four times a week – I have a mild form of PTSD since that’s where the heart attack happened. But I am also aware that most have moved on. They were worried for a while but have their own lives to live. So I pretty much keep my thoughts to myself and pretend I’m okay. For my benefit as much as for theirs. I wrote a while ago about people who had The Year. How someone can look the same for years and then one day you realize they’ve apparently aged 10 years overnight. Well, I think I might just be on to my second round of the Year. It has been a tough few months again. A friend has suddenly collapsed and died. Another has just been told he has incurable cancer. Another has also had a heart scare. It feels like we baby boomers are just getting down to serious life. Knowing how to die.
Thursday
Whether by accident or design – we still don’t know for sure whether James Cleverly’s elimination was the result of his supporters getting too cute with their tactical voting – we’re down to the bottom two in the race to be the next Tory- party leader. Now it’s all up to the Conservative Party members. And the last time they got the last word, they gave us Liz Truss. So for the next few weeks, Kemi Badenoch and Robert Jenrick will go head-to-head for the hearts and minds of an electorate of around 120,000. The Tory party never releases an exact figure for how many members it has, although it is believed that at any given time there are always tens of thousands who have actually died and have not yet been delisted. Or rather, KemiKaze and Honest Bob will not stand together as the party tries to prevent them from gossiping about each other in public. For Thursday’s so-called debate on GB News – the only one currently scheduled – Kemi and Bob took questions from a hand-picked audience of Tory members one after the other. How many people there are is another matter. Most of the country is completely indifferent to the competition, and no one expects the eventual winner to last more than two years in the job. Honest Bob has been the most active so far, giving the same uninspiring speech to a handful of loyal MPs and journalists. Kemi’s supporters have tried to keep her away from the media as every time she says something she manages to upset someone, although she did what was called an “Online Rally” on Wednesday. When it started, only 171 people were watching: one of them was the Guardian’s legendary live blogger Andy Sparrow, and he tuned out after 10 minutes. None of this exercise in futility comes cheap. James Cleverly’s latest member interest statements show he received half a dozen donations of £10K and one of £25K for his leadership campaign. Freebies again. I wonder if the donors feel they got value for money.
Friday
Where possible I try to arrange my social life around the Spurs fixture list. But I can’t play Saturday’s derby against West Ham and I’m completely relaxed about that. Almost relieved. I have sold my ticket and can move on with other things. To my surprise, I have come to realize that I have never felt as fond of the team I have supported since I was nine years old as I am now. In the past there have been odd dives, but nothing like this. It’s not even the results that got me. There have been plenty of times in the last 60 years when the team has been just as flakey. But now I’ve gone from anger and frustration to virtual indifference. When Spurs surrendered a two-goal lead at Brighton, I really wasn’t that bothered. So what has changed? Partly it is that I am tired of being treated as a source of income. One that the club could probably do without as I never buy anything from the shop or the food and drink concessions. I feel like the owners care even less about results than I do. They are not interested in winning trophies, just making White Hart Lane a corporate entertainment venue. A tourist destination. Then there is the feeling of being gaslighted. To be told by the manager that we are playing a new and exciting brand of football when the evidence from my own eyes – a few players apart – is that we spend long periods passing the ball around the back four before losing possession. “Interesting” is clearly the new word for “not very good”. For me it was exciting to win trophies. A late semi-final win against Ajax. I loved the Mauricio Pochettino team. But not this party. They don’t even love themselves. Don’t worry. I still want to renew my season pass, but god it’s going to be seven long months.
Taking the Lead by John Crace is published by Little, Brown (£18.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery costs may apply.