Red for the strawberries, ripening on my allotment, sweet brightness against straw. Red for the runner bean flowers. Red for the radishes huddled up close. Red, just about, for the rhubarb. Red for my face after Saturday on my allotment - for the heat and exertion. Red for the ants I disturbed, and avoided. Red for hope for the tiny green baby tomato I spotted - the first of this season.
Red for Man Utd, club of the moment, team of my colleague and friend, Tim. Red for our endless football banter. Red for the ribbons on the FA cup. Red for the crowd. Red for the fans heard rowdy and loud around Shrewsbury on Saturday evening. Red for painting the town. Red for my glass of wine. Red for my Arsenal scarf, hanging limp but avenged. Red for the roar of football. Red for its disappointments, red for the joys.
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