Due to the ongoing freezing weather and the fact there is no football on this weekend, I plan to spend the next two days in my flat and not leave.
To increase the temperature in my humble home, I have pinned bed sheets to the flat door to prevent cold air from the freezing hallway getting in. I have basically imprisoned myself, as the linen is blocking any possible means of exit, or indeed escape, in the event of fire, flood or mad bear attack.
I am fully stocked on food and drink (including coffee and beer), so have no intentions of leaving. My only human contact being with Jeff Stelling tomorrow afternoon, Claire by telephone and any friend who chooses to brave the elements to come and visit me – although if they have any sense, they’ll cocoon themselves indoors too.
Apologies for the terrible pun
Still no more snow, but that didn’t stop Mother Nature and the Ice Witch from causing mischief.
All the snow which was pissed from the sky the other night has now frozen and made the roads and pavements a treacherous ice rink.
Again, only one colleague managed to join me in work today, leaving a team of just two. Two very nearly became one, when on my journey home I slipped on some ice (or the world’s smallest banana skin). Had my balance not kept me on my feet, I could have broken my leg, or at least raised £250 from You’ve Been Framed for anyone who happened to be filming me.
I am now safely home. However, how much warmer it is inside my flat compared to outside is questionable. The radiator in my front room doesn’t appear to be working very well. While warm, it is not producing the boiling inferno-like temperatures required to stay comfortable in these Arctic conditions. I think it may be time to call the landlord (again).
I am now off to bed. To avoid a heating bill to rival the third world debt, I turn the boiler off at night. To prevent me dying of hyperthermia in my sleep, I will be wearing half my clothes. That’s right – nearly the entire contents of my wardrobe. 3 pairs of socks, pyjamas, tracksuit bottoms, 2 t-shirts, a Leeds United training top and a South Park hoodie. I won’t wear any gloves or a hat, as I can brave the cold ‘cos I’m ‘ard.
This evening I went to The Globe for tea. I ordered my favourite meal from the menu, the legendary Hunters Chicken.
Upon its arrival, I was rather disappointed to see that the dish had changed somewhat since my last visit. Gone was the lovely cheese covered mash. In its place were oven chips. The chicken breast was no longer soaked in a bowl of rich sauce. Instead a small dish of cold barbecue dip was sat on the plate.
However, I am pleased to report that the chicken breast, which was coated in the most delicious bacon I have ever tasted, was actually better than on previous visits. Looking back on memories of past Hunters Chicken orders, the meat has tasted dry. This time however, it was soft, tender and full of flavour.
If they can combine the meat from the new dish with the sauce and mash from the old one, they’re onto a winner.
The guy doing this clearly has too much time on his hands and almost certainly has no life, job or girlfriend. However, the video he has made is excellent.
It’s rather long, so get yourself a drink, a slice of pie, settle down and enjoy…
Oh, and if you don’t like football, this will probably mean nothing to you and simply waste 22 minutes of your life… so don’t bother watching.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
