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English commentators have, historically, been a reserved bunch. The finest from these shores – from Kenneth Wolstenholme to Barry Davies, Brian Moore to Martin Tyler – all typically showed a rather comforting self-supervision to the game as increasingly excitable co-commentators swirled around them, an internal belt that stopped the trousers from falling down even in the most dramatic of moments. Perhaps even especially in the most dramatic of moments. “You have to say that’s magnificent,” is probably not what the Argentinian commentators were bellowing when Diego Maradona rounded Peter Shilton in 1986 after his solo run, but Davies’ commentary was still inimitably perfect.

Thank you for the Kasi Flava link (yesterday’s Football Daily). It brings back memories of a Sunday pub team I played for. Our skill set was not at that level, but our ability to go to sleep standing up and fall over unimpeded was sans pareil” – Steve Robjant.

The sides for our weekend pick-up games at university in Dundee in the mid-60s often aligned deliberately along north-south lines (Football Daily letters passim). Given the number of Scots available there was a bias in the north team. Being Cumbrian-born and raised I usually squeezed into the northern line-up. Then for one game, Mel, from Blackburn, found himself playing for the south. He was not pleased” – Maurice Mandale.

All the ‘where does the north begin?’ correspondents are showing the same fundamental misunderstanding of the concept. ‘North’ is not an absolute expression. Like Einstein’s theoretical astronaut, vainly trying to accelerate to the speed of light, we experience northness as a relativistic term. In global terms, the whole UK is north. More locally, we jumble phrases like South Kensington, which I believe lies in north London. Why, there’s even a North Parade in Penzance and a South Road where the A99 thunders through Wick, some 800 miles further, er, up the page. Northness is a state of mind we take with us, or avoid at all costs, influenced but not defined by our immediate environment. But unlike Alfred’s relativistic traveller, this discussion has been a journey from which we’ve all returned many, many, years older and no further forward” – Ken Muir.

£300,000 might seem a lot to pay for the shirt of a losing goalkeeper (Peter Shilton: yesterday’s Football Daily, full email edition) but if you think of it in terms of pounds per kilo, it’s probably a good deal. I’m assuming the shirt was made from 100kg of some kind of rare, dense metal: how else can you explain Peter Shilton, 6ft professional keeper, being unable to outjump the 5ft 5in Diego Maradona?” – Derek McGee [or those penalties in 1990 – Football Daily Ed].

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Other expenditures include £989 stay at London hotel but party sources say costs not incurred by Nigel Farage

Reform UK footed the bill for a £350 bottle of champagne at a luxury lunch and a £989-a-night hotel with hundreds of pounds in room service, its election campaign spending data shows.

Receipts submitted to the Electoral Commission show instances of high spending at top London venues in the first half of last year.

Some are using Final Fantasy and GTA Online as dating sites and long-time lovers are finding comfort and connection through Resident Evil. Could video games be the ultimate relationship tool?

Last week, Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour talked about the role of women in the video games industry. It featured interviews with gaming insiders, from esports presenter Frankie Ward to members of the inclusive online community Black Girl Gamers. It was wonderful to hear so many disparate, expert views on games culture being given so much time on the show.

One of my favourite moments was when presenter Nuala McGovern read out some listener responses to the question: why do you play video games? “I don’t think there’s enough recognition of gaming as an activity for couples,” one replied. “My husband and I bonded over our shared love of gaming. Our honeymoon was playing Borderlands 2 while we saved for a flat deposit, and now, with a young child, we explore stories, we visit new worlds, we solve mysteries … There is an underappreciated romance to gaming – we communicate, encourage, collaborate and celebrate together. It’s a joy.”

Study finds that only 9.5% of fungal biodiversity hotspots fell within existing protected areas

The underground network of fungi that underpins the planet’s ecosystems needs urgent conservation action by politicians, a research organisation has said.

Scientists from the Society for the Protection of Underground Networks (Spun) have created the first high-resolution biodiversity maps of Earth’s underground mycorrhizal fungal ecosystems.

Study finds that only 9.5% of fungal biodiversity hotspots fell within existing protected areas

The underground network of fungi that underpins the planet’s ecosystems needs urgent conservation action by politicians, a research organisation has said.

Scientists from the Society for the Protection of Underground Networks (Spun) have created the first high-resolution biodiversity maps of Earth’s underground mycorrhizal fungal ecosystems.

‘When Mustapha leaned forward to look into this old well in eastern Morocco, it seemed part ritual – and part desperation’

I travelled to Merzouga in east Morocco three years ago, hoping to photograph some wall drawings and writings I had seen there earlier – markings that showed the distance from the village to Timbuktu, in Mali, by camel. But when I arrived, the markings had vanished. Faced with this absence, I found myself seeking a new story, something unplanned.

Mustapha was my guide that day. At first, he took me along the typical tourist trails, which didn’t speak to my photographic interests. Then he suggested we explore the sand dunes. Initially, I wasn’t particularly interested in these either, but then we came across this old well. I set up my camera, a 1972 Hasselblad 500, and my tripod. As I started to photograph the well, Mustapha stepped forward, instinctively leaning in to look inside. I hadn’t imagined him in the picture but he didn’t pay attention to me. That spontaneous gesture – part ritual, part desperation – transformed the scene completely. It felt sacred, as though he were praying for the return of something essential: water.