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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) 12:02 - Oct 24 with 1583 viewsWarkystache

It's odd how things happen when you least expect it.

Those dull, lifeless late-October Saturdays, where the sun breaks through the clouds an opaque, bilious yellow and the leaves slowly decay, blowing like burnt paper, dancing on the breeze en ballotte to the discordant song of the blackbird. The dawn broke, reluctantly, at 7.30am, just as I was entering Tesco on my morning stroll. More energy burnt. My newspapers decried HM's hospital stay and Alec Baldwin. The loaf of crusty farmhouse fresh in the white paper bag. I was the first customer at the bakers when they opened. They eyed me like I'd been queuing all night. The smell of sweet confections and fresh baked was intoxicating.

Paula likes doughnuts for breakfast. I discovered this purely by chance. I bought four from the bakers last week and she pounced on the bag, like a kitten with a feather on a bit of string. One consumed while I made coffee; perched on a chair, hair still wet from the shower, towel covering her body, leg swinging like a schoolgirl sat on a wall. Sadly, the naked fear of cholesterol and fat forbade me from joining in. I'm nearly fifty. These things are best left to those yet to see thirty. Again, for the millionth time in four weeks, I felt like Humbert Humbert from Nabokov's literary masterpiece.

She left at nine. Rushing, lipstick and mascara done once dressed in the blue Morrison's blouse and pleated skirt, tights fished from our bedroom floor and applied, hopping from one leg to the other, skirt held up in the other hand, her white cotton knickers tightening around the flesh of her parts. I got a semi, but mentally scolded it back down. Too late. We kissed lasciviously. I tasted Colgate and mouthwash. Then she was gone. Still, back later, when she'd seen her mum at six and I'd had an afternoon at the Town.

We'd laid in bed until the wee hours, post-lovemaking, me conscious of a sweaty brow and stickiness around the old fella and his purple hairy chums. We talked about her, about me, about Tel and Mrs Tel, about Blake. I lit us a cigarette apiece and she took it from my hand, lips pursed, eyes half-closed, leaning to me so that my forearm was enclosed in the valley between her breasts.

We started with her. Not a full history; that would have been pointless. Just the mutually interesting observations of a difficult life spent never knowing her father; growing up in a town where the emphasis was on looks and not intellect or soul. Her dad left suddenly when she was three; the screaming fights from her mother wearing him down. He made a new family instead. Her sister came along that year. Courtesy of 'Uncle' Chris, a bloke unrelated who met her mum. Uncle Chris was, to all accounts. a nice bloke. Until he had an affair. Then he was gone.

She told me about the days with Tel. How she'd helped him as a teenager when she was bunking off school due to bullying from a girl. "She's dead now" said Paula with a small, tight smile of satisfaction. "Drugs". Tel rewarded her with a job when she'd sorted his paper rounds. He encouraged her to return to school ("Get educated" he said, then he said I'd be made. He was right of course. He normally is with stuff like that"). The early years as she blossomed into a retailer, and as a young woman, conscious of the admiring looks of the younger paperboys as they returned to the shop on their bikes. The discouragement from Tel to her coming in wearing loads of make-up. "He hated that. I never felt threatened by him. He was like my surrogate dad. I'm sure she (Mrs Tel) thought we were having a fling early on, because she started working with him a bit more, but she saw, and she was reassured, and then she trusted and loved me more than my mum ever did.

"They both wanted kids. They wanted a daughter, desperately. It never happened of course. Sad. I felt for both of them. That's when I realised I needed to take more responsibility for the shop. They were away so much in those days. They looked into adoption. Then they started having more time to themselves and I was on my own, opening up and stocktaking. It was bloody hard but it gave me a great start".

"Then you came along and you helped him, getting him away from himself". She took a pull on the cigarette and laughed the smoke back out. "I always liked you. But you never seemed to notice me, much. Sometimes I wanted to kiss you so badly, it hurt. But then I thought "he's married" and it stopped me. I wanted to be yours. That made me so unhappy. I was such a silly little kid, pretending to be shy around you. Terry told me your marriage was failing and for weeks I tried to make you see me. But...." and she flicked the ash into the egg cup I found for the purpose and looked briefly sad and then smiled at me. "I got you after all, didn't I?" she said, tears starting to well. I was disconcerted. Were these tears of regret? And then she stubbed out her ciggie and leant forwards
and embraced me and then looked up at me from below and we kissed, tenderly and I thought "Yes! They're not!".

After she'd left for work, I tidied up. I hung her jeans and her T-shirt up and washed the pair of knickers I' found on the floor, where'd they'd been casually discarded the night before. almost in indecent haste. I strongly resisted the pervy temptation to sniff them. 'Get a grip' I berated myself. Bloody forty-seven and behaving like a 17 year old on his first wahey.

I made the station at half-eleven, having changed the bedsheets and washed them and then hung them out to dry on the washing rack. I didn't have much faith in them drying, but as it turned out, they did. Another unexpected result.

Train, walk, drinks, half-assed chicken wings which seemed more bone than meat, more drinks, game. Interspersed liberally with the scum imploding against Chelsea and the sort of ragging only true friends can be allowed to get away with on the subject of my new love-life. Someone asked if I'd bring her to a game and I smiled facetiously, knowing Paula would possibly rather die than suffer football. She even wondered aloud why all the blokes she's known were so enthralled with the prospect of "twenty-odd men chasing a bit of leather round a park". Shame, said my mate, indicating a space next to our table. 'We'd made room for her pushchair!'.

No Tel all week. Working. He rang me on Friday afternoon as I was coming back from Birmingham, a gnarly rasp on the line as he wove his van across the A14. "Orlright son? I can't make ternight down the pub. Big order in Thetford an' then iss on ter Milden'all. Lissen....." here he paused and the sound of rummaging could be heard and the radio in the van switched from news to "Fool if you think its over" by Chris Rea and I suddenly had a premonition that he knew, from somewhere, and I quickly had a longing to terminate the call, pretend I'd driven through a tunnel or something (On the Kettering Road, Warks? What are you thinking?). Instead I did nothing, bracing myself for the change of tone from light-hearted to steely, the "Someone told me you're shagging Paula, like, someone 'oo reckons they saw yer togevver. Is it true, ya bleeder?", But it never came. He came back on, said "Sorry mate, just dropped me map an' the sat nav's playin'up. Lissen, yer off nex' week intcher? Fancy meetin' fer lunch on Choosdy? Got two days off choosdy an' wensdy but the wife wants ter go ter Freeport on Wensdy wiv Sandy an' the kids, 'alf-term innit?" And I said yes, and he said 'Nice one, be in touch' and that was that. The relief......

The game's almost an afterthought now. We won 2-1 of course. First half was a bit of a let-down but we were well on top. How Simon Grayson thinks they deserved a draw, well...I spoke to little/big Luke and his girlfriend at half-time. She's around the same age as Paula so she listened and steadied all my fears and my longings and my inveterate ignorance of women aged twenty-eight. And I embraced all and sundry around me as Celina (do do dada do do do do) notched the last-minute winner and we all left elated, singing the "Norwich get battered everywhere" song and rejoicing in our football team's new-found form.

The train home was ecstatic. Home came the delighted, reassured supporter. Home to his supper with a girl he's increasingly growing to love. It's not just lust any more. It's the bits that overtake all that, and more. I used to wonder if we'd have a future when we first started seeing each other, and, whilst I still wonder, at least now I know how I feel. That's the first big battle. I'm changing, becoming excited by the thought that someone else out there sort of feels the same.

It's odd how these things happen when you least expect it......


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Blog: [Blog] It's Time the Club Pushed On

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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:09 - Oct 24 with 1539 viewsFtnfwest

Glad to hear things are going well, the big reveal to Tel seems to be getting bigger the longer it goes on though!
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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:14 - Oct 24 with 1520 viewsColchesterBlue1985

The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:09 - Oct 24 by Ftnfwest

Glad to hear things are going well, the big reveal to Tel seems to be getting bigger the longer it goes on though!


Indeed and also one of those things I would want to face on my terms but hey hats off to you, I’m in my mid 30s and would love another crack at a girl in her late 20s!!!
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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:27 - Oct 24 with 1462 viewsWestover

Brilliant as always, you need to let Tel know before he finds out though.
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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:34 - Oct 24 with 1438 viewsWarkystache

The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:27 - Oct 24 by Westover

Brilliant as always, you need to let Tel know before he finds out though.


Thanks all - yeah, but it's finding the time and I think it's better if we do it together. Paula suggested telling him and Mrs Tel together, but she's working all week (off on Friday and next weekend but then he's working late) so it's difficult to find the right time.

And I'm a coward who despises confrontation of this type, and I never quite know how they'll take it. Bloody excuses. They just pour out......

Poll: If we were guaranteed promotion next season, how would you celebrate?
Blog: [Blog] It's Time the Club Pushed On

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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 15:18 - Oct 24 with 1288 viewsEdwardStone

I'm genuinely delighted for you

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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 15:22 - Oct 24 with 1281 viewsVic

You are Mullet and I claim my £5.

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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 15:59 - Oct 24 with 1239 viewshype313

The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:34 - Oct 24 by Warkystache

Thanks all - yeah, but it's finding the time and I think it's better if we do it together. Paula suggested telling him and Mrs Tel together, but she's working all week (off on Friday and next weekend but then he's working late) so it's difficult to find the right time.

And I'm a coward who despises confrontation of this type, and I never quite know how they'll take it. Bloody excuses. They just pour out......


I bet Tel will be fine, he'll probably say "I knew it all along"

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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 23:23 - Oct 24 with 1052 viewswitchdoctor

The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:34 - Oct 24 by Warkystache

Thanks all - yeah, but it's finding the time and I think it's better if we do it together. Paula suggested telling him and Mrs Tel together, but she's working all week (off on Friday and next weekend but then he's working late) so it's difficult to find the right time.

And I'm a coward who despises confrontation of this type, and I never quite know how they'll take it. Bloody excuses. They just pour out......


don’t worry mate..they think the world of you ….and Paula…i reckon they’ll be made up for you both.
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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 18:47 - Nov 5 with 690 viewsBanksterDebtSlave

The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 23:23 - Oct 24 by witchdoctor

don’t worry mate..they think the world of you ….and Paula…i reckon they’ll be made up for you both.


I think they may have locked him in their attic!
#pray4warky

"They break our legs and tell us to be grateful when they offer us crutches."
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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 19:22 - Nov 5 with 611 viewsLesta_Tractor

The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 18:47 - Nov 5 by BanksterDebtSlave

I think they may have locked him in their attic!
#pray4warky


I'm genuinely concerned about warky, when do we contact the police?

1:23:47, 38:26
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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 20:24 - Nov 5 with 581 viewsBanksterDebtSlave

The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 19:22 - Nov 5 by Lesta_Tractor

I'm genuinely concerned about warky, when do we contact the police?


Pretty soon I reckon.....not looking good.

"They break our legs and tell us to be grateful when they offer us crutches."
Poll: If the choice is Moore or no more.

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The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 20:48 - Nov 5 with 543 viewsGeomorph

The Warky Report: Fleetwood Town (H) on 12:34 - Oct 24 by Warkystache

Thanks all - yeah, but it's finding the time and I think it's better if we do it together. Paula suggested telling him and Mrs Tel together, but she's working all week (off on Friday and next weekend but then he's working late) so it's difficult to find the right time.

And I'm a coward who despises confrontation of this type, and I never quite know how they'll take it. Bloody excuses. They just pour out......


If they don’t like it surely it’s for them to just get used to.. it’ll be reet
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