Contemporaneous. That’s a word of the day. It means existing at the same time. With Tel absent, it’s felt a bit like that over the last few days.
Terry and Mrs Tel are in Marbella. They flew out on the Wednesday a week ago. Tony ended up driving them to Stansted. They didn’t ask and I, to be fair, didn’t offer, seeing as their flight was at 4.30pm and I was stuck in Birmingham. I’ve had a few mis-spelt texts from him since. “Weater good, tempriture 28, wife shoping” was one such on Thursday at 11am. I haven’t rung him as he asked me not to. “Expensive, like, calls on me phone when I’m out there” he said, almost apologetically. He does have roaming data.
I went to London last Sunday so apologise for the lack of a report following our brave 0-0 away at Brighton. I was on the fairly early train with Spurs fans and Westgate shoppers who piled off at Stratford. It was a nice day spent at Lord’s, watching one of my friend’s local cricket teams, Foxton Granta from Cambridge, win the Village Cup.
Lord’s, for those who haven’t been before, is a bit officious. You aren’t allowed inside the Victorian clubhouse (MCC only) and the site wasn’t fully open. A pint of beer was £8. Thankfully, there was a fairly decent Wetherspoons near Baker Street and we bought cans in an offie near the ground. We walked from Baker Street underground. It’s not that far to St John’s Wood and helps digest a Wetherspoons breakfast (£9.99 for the blowout including a pint).
The rest of the week was work. Dull. Birmingham, with The Villa Fans and their reminders that they are Champions League. A few went out to the Young Boys game in Bern last week. They were happy on their return. I spent Friday smiling wanly at suggestions of how many Watkins would put past us at Portman Road next week. None of ‘em are coming, natch. “Spent out in Switzerland an’ it’s a roight ole journey over dare on a Soondy” was the consensus. I really hope we win. More than anything, just to see the faces on Monday morning. Come on Town. With the absence of the scum, this is my next best fixture. This and the ‘Appy ‘Ammers, of which more soon as Tel can get us tickets. In the home end…….
The most astonishing upturn is the Birmingham City supporters. Now lower than a snake’s belly, they have nonetheless spent an astonishing ten million quid on one player, striker Stansfield, who many Championship clubs secretly fancied but clearly had no way of affording. They beat Wrexham, the other ‘Hollywood’ club last Monday night. I was offered the opportunity to come along as a neutral but had to decline. I couldn’t get a decent hotel for one reason. Still, I’m going to a game around Christmas as I promised them. I think they think I’m some sort of lucky mascot.
The Kettering McDonalds doesn’t change. Still the same greasy brown paper bag. Except I don’t any more. Well, not to eat. Their coffee is cheaper than Costa and doesn’t give me ’The Costa Effect’ which is a touch of the squits and a feeling that I’ve just consumed a pre-operation bowel prep. I don’t like Starbucks either, but not for reasons of their products. They seem to attract the sort of people that take pictures of their food. Still, each to their own.
McDonalds do that promotion where you can win more of their food, which sounds more punishment than tempter. One of my colleagues won a Big Mac Meal from it last week. He was as happy as I’d have been with three points at Southampton yesterday. Why do people love McDonalds still? When I was a nipper, it was the novelty. A quick burger’n’chips where your mum didn’t have to stand at the oven and the deep fat fryer didn’t stink out the lounge after. But now, I’m fifty and it all seems too easy. I’d rather cook and take my own packed lunch. I can add things to a tupperware lunchbox that you can’t find in any greasy burger joint and would pay huge amounts for in a restaurant. Convenience isn’t always a guarantee of taste.
So that was my week. No Friday night meet-up and curry, so my bank balance is happier and slightly fatter even if I’m not. I did meet friends at their place and bought a bottle of red and white with me, and enjoyed their simple home-cooked dinner and the conversation, which revolved as many do around memories and funny moments. Self-deprecating to the last. It seemed a pale imitation of a curry night with Terrence though. He’d have moaned about stuff and we’d have got drunk and maudlin and then gone back to his for decent brandy and frankness. He’s not getting that in Spain, even if his local bar does do Estrella for two quid a pint and his favourite restaurant does a nice rare steak for twenty notes and a bottle of drinkable red for half that.
I’ve got a week off in October. I’m thinking of booking somewhere for a change as well. Bit of walking, sightseeing, good food and beer. Might try Croatia? I’ll let you know.
Oh and a last-minute equaliser at Southampton. I thought we'd lost as well. I was out walking at the time. Happy days!! |  |
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