Round up

Hodie ho.

Back at home early for games night as usual on a Monday. I do like Mondays for that reason: generally speaking, unless work intrudes, I get home nice an early and it makes a short opening day for the week's work.

It is much the same reason I like Easter. I am not even remotely religious; ownership of a Wycliffe Bible notwithstanding (for the aulde tongue d'ye see?). Nope, Easter means a minimum of five days off for the use of but a half day's leave. It's the clerical equivalent of five loaves and two fish¹, only it's an annual event. God bless the civil service. So that's a third of my week done and although the remaining two days are set to be busy, I don't care one jot.

For all that, it looked for a time today that I might have had to call the evening's game off, as ominous portents threatened me with working late. In the end it was a blessedly false alarm and here I am. Of course, I had it covered. Had there been no game, I should have toddled off to the Griffin for a couple of pints (or so) and watched the game between Birmingham City and Wolves. Numbers 2 and 1 in the Championship and all the teams below us dropped points over the weekend. We just have to try not to conjure a loss out of the fixture. A win will open a splendid gap of 8 points between us and Birmingham with but 5 games to play. A draw will keep us at 5 points, but a loss will make things rather more nervy than I would wish at this late stage of the season. It would be nice to go up as champs, even if, as I suspect, we bounce straight back down next season. Still, one thing at a time.

My shiny new copy of Leonard Cohen Live in London has arrived from Play.com. It was recorded at the O2 Arena last July at the very gig Furtle and I attended. I shall listen intently on headphones to see if I can hear two people muttering quietly about the insanity of making us hand in the bottle tops of our water bottles, but allowing us into the arena with four litres of the old aitch two oh. Next time we go, we're taking spares.

Edited to add: I should, of course, know better than to write anything about Wolves until after the event. I always jinx them. Poo.


¹Guess who buggered up the quiz a couple of weeks ago by not being able to remember the exact recipe for Jesus' fish sandwich?

Round up

Hodie ho.

Back at home early for games night as usual on a Monday. I do like Mondays for that reason: generally speaking, unless work intrudes, I get home nice an early and it makes a short opening day for the week's work.

It is much the same reason I like Easter. I am not even remotely religious; ownership of a Wycliffe Bible notwithstanding (for the aulde tongue d'ye see?). Nope, Easter means a minimum of five days off for the use of but a half day's leave. It's the clerical equivalent of five loaves and two fish¹, only it's an annual event. God bless the civil service. So that's a third of my week done and although the remaining two days are set to be busy, I don't care one jot.

For all that, it looked for a time today that I might have had to call the evening's game off, as ominous portents threatened me with working late. In the end it was a blessedly false alarm and here I am. Of course, I had it covered. Had there been no game, I should have toddled off to the Griffin for a couple of pints (or so) and watched the game between Birmingham City and Wolves. Numbers 2 and 1 in the Championship and all the teams below us dropped points over the weekend. We just have to try not to conjure a loss out of the fixture. A win will open a splendid gap of 8 points between us and Birmingham with but 5 games to play. A draw will keep us at 5 points, but a loss will make things rather more nervy than I would wish at this late stage of the season. It would be nice to go up as champs, even if, as I suspect, we bounce straight back down next season. Still, one thing at a time.

My shiny new copy of Leonard Cohen Live in London has arrived from Play.com. It was recorded at the O2 Arena last July at the very gig Furtle and I attended. I shall listen intently on headphones to see if I can hear two people muttering quietly about the insanity of making us hand in the bottle tops of our water bottles, but allowing us into the arena with four litres of the old aitch two oh. Next time we go, we're taking spares.

Edited to add: I should, of course, know better than to write anything about Wolves until after the event. I always jinx them. Poo.


¹Guess who buggered up the quiz a couple of weeks ago by not being able to remember the exact recipe for Jesus' fish sandwich?