Apologies for the lack of a report following our win at Burton; it's been a funny old week, as Greavsie might have said when he presented Mexico '86 with Ian St John and they had caramba music over footage of mulleted foreigners in tight shorts playing better than England.....
The fallout from Norwich barely rippled. It seems it wasn't unexpected. I'm not sure if that makes it worse, but it seems our stock has fallen amongst fellow Championship aficionados. I was teased by Brummies at work, but it felt perfunctory, as though they'd always known we'd lose and so much of the point of piss-taking was diminished. I was, however, at the Brum v Villa derby last Sunday, courtesy of 'a spare ticket for wun'o'me mates lark bud dey carnt coom'. Two derbies in a week. Both more passionate in the stands than they were on the pitch.
I'll save you the Birmingham match details (this is an ITFC forum after all) but for those who missed it, it ended 0-0, both teams had nailed on chances and the home team's misguided authorities left two funny cardboard clapper things, printed in blue and claret (why?) on seats which were mainly used as missiles to pelt the Villa lot. Especially Robert Snodgrass. Which was nice.
Terry's father-in-law is in intensive care having suffered another stroke which, whilst not killing him outright, has all but. I saw Mrs Tel last Thursday in the shop and had a chat; she was stoical and resigned and a bit teary, but holding it together for the sake of everyone else. "E'll die, we all know that" she said. She was spending the days at Braintree and Broomfield. I wanted to ask her about the Spanish move, but it never seemed to be the right moment.
Tel himself is sanguine about it all. He's looking into the minutiae of the proposed move; namely how, when, where and how much. He's not doing why, which, selfishly, I'm hoping he will. This is what they both want. He's still doing the shop, but it's as though his heart's not in it. He'd sold all his Halloween paraphernalia by last Wednesday, and couldn't be bothered draping his shop with fake cobwebs and plastic spiders. Last year, I joked he didn't need 'em (mind you, the shop DID go through a bit of a dirty phase in 2016). This year, I didn't bother.
We met for a pint last Friday, Tel late and agitated because he'd had to let Paula go early and then had a big delivery arrive at 5.30pm. Paula, his assistant, has got an interview at the local Lidl for a full-time supervisory role next week. He was praying she'd get it. "Solves a few problems, that" he repeated a few times as he scrutinised his pint of Peroni at the bar. I was expected in Birmingham by 10am on the Sunday, so didn't fancy a drink on the Saturday night. Tel fancied a drink on Saturday. He spent 10 minutes texting his mate Rob, then grinned "Yeah, 'e can make it tomorrer" and put his phone down. If it was a slight against my abandonment, it was a very slight one.
He's mentally moved already, by which I mean he now talks as though the area he lives in has lost appeal for him. It's strange. He was dismissive of the shop ("chain round me neck", "bloody pain in the arse for both of us to run it proper", "wevver's gettin' brass monkey's rand 'ere") as though he's burning his bridges in advance. We're caning our betting funds trying to get them over £500 so we've got a nice Xmas bonus; trouble is, we're losing and our pot, over £350 two weeks ago, is now just shy of £250. Tel wanted to put the lot on one bet to do it, which would bring our partnership to a conclusion. I demurred. It's one of the links I have to him, and I want to keep it going as long as I can. He thinks I'm nuts.
After the pain of the derby, Burton away was the acid test. Were we actually good enough to beat a team of perennial strugglers? Would we then lose heavily at Cardiff? I was out on Saturday, shopping in Ipswich for a watch strap (mine's cracked) and a new iron (the steam bit on mine's got limescale). I got both, had a pint and a bowl of chips in The Cricketers to celebrate, then went home. Then went down the local to watch the Soccer Saturday thing. I'd missed Man U v Spurs, but apparently hadn't missed much according to the white-shirted Spurs fans playing pool in between swigs of Carlsberg.
I missed Celina's winner. I was talking to Drew, a friend of a friend who was escaping domestic disharmony for a few hours. That's what locals are for. It was all blokes in there, getting away from the wife and kids for a bit of 'me' time, cradling their pints of lager and standing in groups of three, laughing at something you couldn't quite hear. Drew's pint slopped dangerously as he told me a funny, rambling story about a mate at work who'd fallen carrying some plasterboard and was trying to claim compo for a grazed arse. Absorbing as this was, it was only when he said "Bloody lucky old Ipswich", interrupting himself, and I turned quickly to the screen that I realised we'd won 2-1.
I was off on Monday following the Brum derby. I got back at 6pm on Sunday night. My Bluenose colleagues went into a city pub to console themselves after the match. I went home. The McDonalds I bought at a drive through near Bletchley was cold and sad, a bit like its consumer. I also had the day off yesterday as the project I'm working on needs validation by our managers and they're at a weekly meeting in Oxford. So I rang Tel. "Fancy a drink?" I asked him. "Yeah" he said. So we met at 6pm in the boozer. I didn't know where else to go, and it serves passable grub. I bought him a steak and kidney pie, chips, peas and a pint. He ate perfunctorily, telling me about how much it'd cost him to set up in Spain and what he'd need to do. It's become his new world. I regretted inviting him a bit.
We lost to Cardiff. "Shouldn't expect to win there" said Tel, dismissively. Just when I thought we'd turned another corner. We did briefly make it 2-1 and I got a bit excited. Tel regarded me with a raised eyebrow. "Need summink more'n'that in yer life, boy" he said, nodding. "Yer need a noo wife or summink. Gertcha self out there again. Yer can't carry on lark this, yer need a noo challenge". Then Cardiff made it 3-1 and that was that. |  |
By continuing to use the site, you agree to our use of cookies and to abide by our Terms and Conditions.
