Who the hell is Ryan Giggs?

These days people make so much fuss about Giggsy, yet it wasn't always like that.  Not for the first 10 years at least.

Whilst he was liked in those early days, he certainly wasn't hero worshipped from the outset. Not by the fans nor the media.

He was fast but still lacked vision, light on his feet but easy to knock over. And he was annoyingly prone to injury. He rarely played for Wales - in fact he was largely disliked in Wales because SAF usually withdrew him (injured....again).




He wasn't even the female fans choice, not with Lee Sharpe on the scene.

He's always seemed to be in someone else's shadow.  Beckham took better corners, Kanchelskis was faster, Ronaldo had quicker feet, Scholes was smarter.

But whilst they all took the credit, Ryan was quietly working away in the background, pulling out those moments of brilliance to remind us he was there.

My two personal favourites are two of the biggest of his career. The 97/98 winner against Juventus at home in the Champions League and that unbelievable FA Cup replay goal against Arsenal in 99.

I was there for both.

So with 900 Utd games under his belt, these days he's lauded for playing so brilliantly at 38, something he puts down to yoga. He's rarely injured, he can actually cross the ball and he finally gave Wales a good run, being part of the team that almost made it.

We all have a footballing hero and mine will always be Bryan Robson. But in the early 90s as his career began to fade, the welsh wizard had already began to make his mark on the pitch (and on my player cam!)
He tracks back, he works hard, he quietly inspires all around him.  He could have played for England but he chose to play for Wales.

He should have played for Brazil.

The Gallery - A Family Story

I don't have enough pictures of the Davies clan. So on a rare holiday together last year to celebrate my Dad's retirement, we set one up.

But it was hot, I was in a rush and I didn't pay attention to detail as I usually would.

The boys wanted to be in the pool, the baby wanted to be out of the sun, everyone else wanted a cold beer. I forced them all to grab a child and STAND STILL just for a minute.

Ready? Set the timer, run to camera, press button, run back into position. Done.

This is the result.

My perfect family photo isn't quite so perfect because:

• It's mainly floor
• I was wearing my skirt hitched up to my neck as a dress
• None of us have the right child
• The baby can't see
• One boy has a pair of shorts on his head
• My poor boy has nothing on his bottom (modesty protected with yellow paint *ahem*)
• My brother appears to be busking

On the plus side, we're all in it, we're all smiling and it was a bloody good holiday. And this photo really makes me laugh.

Join in The Gallery at the wonderfully varied Sticky Fingers blog.

They don't make 'em like they used to

Onions.

I realised this weekend that onions don’t make me cry anymore and they haven’t done for years.

Magazines, newspaper columns, Bettaware catalogues all used to be full of magic ways to stop the flow of tears as you chopped. A spoon or a piece of brown bread in your mouth. But now, no matter how or when I chop them, they just don’t make me cry. Is it the onions or is it me?

I fear it’s me. These days I can only cry at things related to children. Lost children, found children, happy children, sad children, abused children, amused children. From birth to babies, tots to teens. Children make my eyes water.

I used to cry at sport. Or ER. Or the theme-tune to West Wing. Or anything to do with Aidan in SATC.

Now it’s just babies and children.

Onions haven’t changed, but they don’t make me like they used to.