I support two football teams. Yes, I am committing the cardinal football sin. My crime is just one step away from changing sides, because your team is doing crap; or worse, becoming a Manchester United fan, when you live in Middlesex.
I have reason to support two clubs. I was born in York. I am therefore an exiled Yorkshireman. Leeds United is my “big team”, and because of my past, I have good reason to follow them. My second club is Bath City. I live in Bath. It should be the football law that you support your local side.
An unlikely event happened on Saturday. Both Leeds and Bath City won. Not only did they win, but they destroyed their opposition. Leeds beat Preston 3-0, while Bath travelled to deepest, darkest Essex and pummelled Concord Rangers 5-0. An amazing turnaround, considering City lost 5-1 at home the previous week!
Who knows what’ll happen to my beloved clubs next weekend. I suspect both will lose. Managers and players of Newcastle United and East Thurrock must be licking their lips.
Part of my recent autograph hunting involved contacting Leeds United, asking for a signed photo of the manager, Garry Monk. I played a sympathy card, saying how I lived far away from Yorkshire and it was my birthday in March.
I didn’t expect to receive anything. However, the day before my birthday, the postman rang the doorbell and delivered a signed team photo. Claire was gutted that she didn’t film me, as I opened the envelope, as my face was apparently priceless. I was in shock, that I would be sent something so special.
A few weeks later, the photo has been framed. I am just thinking of somewhere to put the thing. Meanwhile, I am trying to undertake another task… identify each signature. Twitter has been a great help, but many of the autographs remain a mystery.
I’m at Bath City. Our season is effectively over. We can’t go up, we can’t go down. We’re playing Maidenhead United, who have an awful lot to play for – they’re top of the league.
We’ve only just started the second half and are losing 4-0, or is it 5? I’ve lost count.
Maidenhead fans are in full voice. Among their many songs is the classic “Can you hear the (Bath) City sing? I can’t hear a fucking thing”. If I was one to sing at football matches, I’d be offering a rendition of “Where were you when you were shit?” I’ve never seen so many Maidenhead fans until today!
I regularly check the trends on Twitter. This is mainly to stay up to date with the latest news and find our who’s died – it’s basically a Births, Marriages and Deaths page for the famous.
One trend that caught my eye this afternoon was Samsung Galaxy S8. My mobile phone is nearly three years old. I am on one of those contracts which I can leave at anytime. No commitment. In short, my mobile is a fuck buddy.
I really, really want an S8. They’re out at the end of April. I am on annual leave at the end of April. No doubt they’ll sell out on he first day and not be available again until Halloween. However, they can be preordered. Do I be brave and take the plunge, get locked into a 2 year contract and get my grubby mits on the beautiful S8?
There’s nothing like a cock up from Tesco to get me blogging again…
Yesterday, our delivery driver kindly dropped off our weekly shop. Along with all our crisps, cake and coke (the 3 essential C’s, and your five a day), we had some oranges. These oranges came with a free gift. Mould. I’m not one for consuming mould, even though I’ve been reliably informed that by regular eaters of the stuff enjoy it – apparently the mould will grow on you (apologies for that terrible attempt of a joke).
A mouldy orange really did make me wonder if as much thought goes into picking our groceries, as Tesco claim.
Anyway, all’s well that ends well. After slating them on Twitter – the essential complaint tool for any modern day Victor Meldrew – I received a refund. In the old days, I would have demanded compensation, for coming into contact with toxic food, but I’ve mellowed in the last year and gone past caring.
On this website, you’ll find me blogging (almost) daily about everyday life, living in Bath, working with computers, and the occasional bit of football stuff thrown in.
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