Have you ever tried not thinking about something? Easy enough in the general sense -- this particular aspect of tBB is, at the very moment these words form themselves on the screen, not thinking about a staggering range of things, including Creme Eggs.
Not thinking about things is easy. Deliberately not thinking about something is hard, which is why you are now thinking about Creme Eggs. Deliberately not thinking about something as it actually happens to you is almost impossible. If somebody was throwing a Creme Egg at your head right this instant, you'd be thinking about it. And probably quite upset.
(On the offchance you don't know what a Creme Egg is, watch this:
Traditionally they're only available at Easter-time. They're okay.)
All of which is to establish that Daley Blind's recent promise, which is being interpreted in some quarters as being a coquettish, come-hither, hiking-of-the-skirts and fluttering-of-the-eyelashes in the direction of Old Trafford, is the basic minimum that any conscious human being in the same situation could muster. To wit:
I am happy here in Amsterdam. But if there comes another club I will have to think about it and then we will see. I will think about my options. For now I will focus on Ajax and we will see what happens next week.
Conscious creature vows to respond to external stimulation. Next week: if provoked by an atmosphere comprising oxygen along with nitrogen, argon, and a few other gases, Daley Blind will breathe. And rest assured, it'll be news.