| The Warky Report: Wycombe (H) 21:10 - Apr 9 with 1253 views | Warkystache |
Happy Easter.
The spring warmth and the haze melted into aquatint as the dawn unveiled the night sky. Up at 6.30am, breath steaming, just chill enough for the walk to get my trainers wet with dew. A few rabbits ran at my approach; a pheasant clucking unseen. I nearly trod in a fresh pile of dogs**t. You don't see white ones as much these days. When I was a kid, white dog turds were everywhere. Perhaps diets have changed as much as they have for the human companions?
It was strange not to have a Saturday game. Easter discombobulates. It's never at a good time, usually. This one was alright, I s'pose. I don't do chocolate or bread or much meat any more so the prospect of prohibitively wasteful chocolate eggs and warm hot-cross buns with butter oozing doesn't appeal. Nor does the traditional roast lamb dinner. I've started eating porridge with berries for breakfast. I think it's raspberries, strawberries and blueberries, but they're in a frozen fruit pack from the supermarket and often don't resemble the fruit they're supposed to.
Friday then. A strange day. I went to Huntingdon to see my girlfriend Helen in the morning, only because she's off to Portugal on Monday for a week in the sun. She asked me to stay for the day and I, in a lather of indecision because we were playing Wycombe at 3pm and I could, just, nip off for a few hours, no drinking of course, and watch the game. But in the end, I chose not to and stayed in Cambridgeshire for a day of sweetness and light. When I saw we'd won 4-0 (believe me, we were out from 12.30pm in Cambridge shopping so I didn't even see the results until 6) I was a bit sick. But mainly happy. I'll be there for Charlton, Port Vale and Exeter. Tel's coming to Charlton. They're all jumping on the bandwagon anyway.
I often feel like my football club don't really need me any more, especially when they're doing well as they are, right now. I could've gone to Cheltenham tomorrow, but the away tickets sold out ages ago and I wasn't quick enough. It feels like it doesn't matter in a funny way. I've renewed on the early bird and all that, and Tel has confirmed he's bought a season ticket for next season so I'll move my seat, as he's committed himself to SAR Upper. I'll miss the Sir Bob Lower, really I will. But games with him will be an experience next season.
Exciting times at FPR. It's frustrating waiting for the games to play themselves out, the hope being matched by that steely voice of pragmatism in the background which says 'You've been here before, remember the late '90's?'. I do indeed. I remember bloody Bob Taylor and that bastard Aage-Fjortoft snarling a Joker grin at Treacle as we all left dejectedly. I know the play-offs would feel like capitulation now. We're second. Sheffield Wednesday couldn't win a double-headed coin flip. The sense of losing our grip now would be terminal. So the games can't come quick enough, the opposition can't be obliging enough, the goals can't rain in from us enough. Anything else is irrelevant.
Speaking of Tel, the move is slowly edging towards completion. He's started packing, or at least Mrs Tel has. I went and saw him on Wednesday before he left for Braintree and Tone and Sandy and meals out in expensive restaurants and a trip to London. Mrs Tel looked tired but content. They had cardboard boxes like Skid Row everywhere. I half expected to find vagrants cooking beans on a calor gas stove inside a few, but no, it was all cushions and bedding and kitchen ephemera,
"Bleedin' toot we're chuckin's unbelievable" said Tel as we crossed the threshold into his back patio, drinks in hand and Mrs Tel dipping into my fag packet proffered. He asked me if I wanted a playboy apron, then offered me his microwave ("geddin' a noo one next week fer the 'ouse) and his air frier ("never bloody use the poxy fing excep' fer chips an' even they taste funny in it, like ah've used too much oil or summink. Bleedin' 'undred and fifty notes darn the drain that was").
Mrs Tel was dressed like she'd just returned from a Buzzcocks reunion gig; slashed black jeans, Madness T-shirt in grey, black ballet pumps with red tights. "She never liked Madness when we were younger" said Tel, an attempt at sarcasm. She rolled her eyes. "Went and saw 'em at that pub in Camden in 1979 though" she retorted. "More'n you did, wiv yer moanin' about 'ow far it was on the tube".
They bickered on, good naturedly, for a while. We got onto music and Tel said his worst-ever gig was "takin' 'er ter see Soosie and her Banshees in 1980, never seen more birds wiv their eyes black wiv make-up and 'air like Morticia bleeding' Addams. "Ere...." he finished and suddenly went into another room, returning with a padded faux leather photo album the same colour brown as turds. ""Ave a butcher's, farnd this the other day in a draw upstairs, 'ave a larf at the state we were in".
I opened the album and several grainy, red-eyed people stared back. They were dressed in late '70's punk gear. Mrs Tel looked like one of The Slits, black hair bouffant like a privet hedge, fag in one hand, glass of wine in the other, lips just a bit too red, eye shadow just a bit too much. Tel was standing next to her. I was amused to see he had a feathercut. He looked like a cockney lout dressed as Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. His shirt was open at the chest revealing hair and a St Christopher. These were great.
One showed Mrs Tel dancing at a concert. "That was The Stranglers, 1978, think we saw 'em in 'Ammersmiff. They were bloody good live. You'd've been too young. Better than the Clash anyway, although you" (here he pointed at his wife, sat with her feet curled under her on the outside bench and smiling at my mirth) "bleedin' loved the Clash, din't yer? They were bloody loud and a bit raw fer me. I liked the ole disco".
The rest were grainy old colour, the faded relics of youth captured forever, meaning nothing to those who didn't know the two subjects. Mrs Tel had a Blondie T-shirt in one, not the same one as she wears now ("it split in the wash" she admitted wistfully) and they looked happy. I felt a bit privileged to have shared their earlier lives together.
I'm back on Saturday. They're even letting me sleep overnight in their sofa bed, in a bare bedroom where just the carpet remains. I'm looking forward to it. "Yer never know" said Tel, a wink on his face, "we might 'ave more photos lying around we aint farnd yet". I even agreed to bring mine, although in comparison, a late '80's to early '90's social life isn't much to write home about, even if it was shared with different people and the styles were nearly the same.
So Cheltenham tomorrow and a day of luxurious home work, all the laundry and cleaning. Today was spent with parents, doing some DIY round theirs, mowing the lawn, being chided over Paula and drinking my dad's best bottles with a ham salad lunch and a pavlova so rich it could probably have bailed Trump. My dad was pleased with his Hotel Chocolat egg and my mum (who shares my distaste for chocolate) was delighted with her M&S flowers and bottle of aged Cava. Typical Sunday at home. I notice my dad's already eaten the chocolates that came with his egg. No wonder he was snoring when I left.
Hopefully we'll win again. I say hopefully. It's almost becoming a foregone conclusion in a way. But as I said earlier, we've all been here before, eh? Never count your chickens with this club. I have on numerous occasions and it's rarely worked well.
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| The Warky Report: Wycombe (H) on 21:17 - Apr 9 with 1197 views | Warkystache |
Oh and Ed- thanks for the thumbs up - might be able to finally make your barbecue on the 24th June, where's the best place to book for a B&B nearby? | |
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| The Warky Report: Wycombe (H) on 21:28 - Apr 9 with 1153 views | EdwardStone |
| The Warky Report: Wycombe (H) on 21:17 - Apr 9 by Warkystache |
Oh and Ed- thanks for the thumbs up - might be able to finally make your barbecue on the 24th June, where's the best place to book for a B&B nearby? |
Try the wonderfully named Kill More B n B..... (it's actually Kilmorie)
Or Nutshell Cottage
Both in Corse/Staunton; Postcode GL19 3 something.... I have never stayed, but I imagine a bit twee and chintzy
Proudly Britain's first Bi Polar village
Or a better bet for the serious drinker is Watersmeet in Hartpury...it's usually rammer full of heavy drinking fishermen alledgedly there to catch monster carp, or more likely escape from the missis |  | | |
| The Warky Report: Wycombe (H) on 21:30 - Apr 9 with 1125 views | EdwardStone |
| The Warky Report: Wycombe (H) on 21:28 - Apr 9 by EdwardStone |
Try the wonderfully named Kill More B n B..... (it's actually Kilmorie)
Or Nutshell Cottage
Both in Corse/Staunton; Postcode GL19 3 something.... I have never stayed, but I imagine a bit twee and chintzy
Proudly Britain's first Bi Polar village
Or a better bet for the serious drinker is Watersmeet in Hartpury...it's usually rammer full of heavy drinking fishermen alledgedly there to catch monster carp, or more likely escape from the missis |
And a very warm welcome if you are able to join us.....
this year's special treat will be bbq ed marmalade sandwiches for our hotly anticipated Peruvian contingent.... who are bring one or more Alpacas or maybe Alpaci | | | |
| The Warky Report: Wycombe (H) on 22:56 - Apr 9 with 953 views | monkeymagic |
A very Happy Easter to you, too.
Really pleased to read that things are on the up, hope it works out for you with ‘H’. |  | | |
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