| The Warky Report - Back to Life (A) 11:12 - Aug 6 with 954 views | Warkystache |
See, this is a new take. Reporting when we haven't even kicked a ball in anger yet.
Those fools who organise the fixtures list couldn't have screwed us over better. My new black season ticket card (with the gummy blob still visible from the ITFC letter it was attached to, electronically signed by Mark Ashton, wishing me a good season and stating 'we're not going up just to make up the numbers', assertively, hopefully, in a 'surely we'll be top ten' sort of way) still sits in my wallet, unused as yet, the old one scissored to death, the brief panic when I thought it was the new one I was cutting into plastic ribbons.
Away on a Sunday, no crib for a bed. I never fancied the trip to Sunderland. Had we played them away on the final day with a shout for the play-offs, I may have thought about it. But having promised various people in the old life to be available for trips to Birmingham City, Leicester, Coventry, West Brom, Watford (with Tel) and Norwich (with Tel), another away trip would be gilding the lily.
Tel's fine. He received his new season ticket the day after mine plopped on the mat. I wound him up briefly about the delay, but then his came and the wind-up died. We're meeting for Stoke City next Saturday. Arrangements, military-style, made last weekend when I visited Halstead for a few drinks and helped him plan where the new hot-tub he's invested in should be put. They need a decent electric supply and a good drain nearby, so we tramped the muddy bit of land he owns and I tried to politely ignore that he needed to cut his grass as it dampened the bottom inch of my jeans.
He's fine, as I say. So is Mrs Tel, as far as I can see. She's always out with her sister-in-law and niece, who jacked in her University course to take a job in London, working for a popular online bank as something called a Creditor Analyst. The pay is apparently better. That's all I know. Tel clearly didn't know much more himself. "Jus' quit 'er degree, pain' back 'er stoodent loan so she's earnin' it o'course". He was neutral in tone. He's become careful when discussing family matters, I've noticed.
Paula's four months pregnant. That's all I know as well. I've not seen or heard since May. It's as if she's vanished. I sent her a text a few weeks ago as I've still got her faux leatherette settee in my garage, and I'd like it moved, preferably to the tip, but knowing it'll be the first thing she asks for if I do. No reply. Radio silence. I saw her mum and sister in Luccas a while ago, but fortunately they were sat up the back and I'd come in for a takeaway pizza, so avoided eye contact and awkward questions. Terry has given up on Paula. It's official. She didn't turn up to his housewarming and she didn't come when he and she set up a lunchtime 'date' for a chat. Left him having a solitary pint on his tod. He doesn't forgive easily. That's it. He even deleted her number from his phone, just to show that it's terminal. So, with regret, she must leave the weekly drama of these reports. I'm sorry. I'll try and find a new love interest. I don't currently have one. My Huntingdonshire beau is moving to Worcester next month so we called it a day. In truth, she called it a day. I'd have happily gone driving to Worcester. Never mind.
I'm in two minds about Tel's regular meets with me for Portman Road excitement this season. He wants to do the cup games as well. He's already paid for his ticket to Bristol Rovers on Wednesday. I can't make it. Birmingham, working late. The usual. He tried without fail to get me to agree. "Jus' leave early, like, we could be supping by free in the arternoon, take yer fer a dinner in Trongs". No. Can't make it. Don't really want to. I'd rather my first game was the Stoke City one, Saturday at 3pm, the beer cold, the food spicy and the crowd a 28k'er. No car to worry about. Meet at the Manningtree Station cafe for a Guinness gut-liner and a bacon roll at 10am. I'm a traditionalist.
The rain seems to have eased. Yesterday, with Tel having a wife weekend and going to see Tone and Sand as he calls them, making them sound like a Farrow and Ball interior emulsion, I went shopping and then, jacket pulled up over head, made a run for the pub. The interior was as dark as it is in winter, the lightly wet tread stained floorboards squeaked as my rubber soles scraped to the bar. They started doing cocktails in the summer, cheap ones that taste of nothing much but get you pissed quickly. I had the long island iced tea. It's a palaver to make. A shot from each of the green optic bottles and then a notional squeeze from the lemon juice squeezer and a top up from a glass bottle of proper Coke. It ends up looking as muddy as the Stour outside, but by God, it does a job. Five of them (at eight quid a pop) and you might just as well have downed a bottle of tequila in one gulp.
The rain flooded the bathrooms a bit so it was mop and bucket, Jamie the landlord moaning that he'd told staff to shut the doors leading to the beer garden a thousand times. He's looking old and tired. The pub trade isn't doing it for him and he's thinking of giving up the tenancy and moving back to Rochford to work with his brother's building firm. His wife and kids still live down there. He might be leaving by Christmas. Sad times. He's been a rock for me during recent upheavals. Shame he doesn't like football.
So that's all folks. Enjoy the game later. Here's hoping. I'm off for a pre-match walk in a mo, might go and see whether the rain yesterday has flooded the fields around Flatford. I could do with a stroll. Last night's dinner (home-made sushi) is sitting heavy.
Tel's not watching the Sunderland game. He's having a late lunch with the in-laws and then going to see Oppenheimer with them at Freeport. He'll catch up later, he said, like it didn't mean that much to miss the first game of a new season in a new, better league. But then he has a life, I suppose. Me, I can't wait for us to walk out at the SOL. I'll be in the pub by four. Hope the Arsenal fans don't have the Charity Shield on. But, no, they won't. Jamie promised me. There'll be a few Town in there. He's also got three tellies now, one in the pool room that is no more (the pool table died when someone jammed the coin slots with a spilt bacardi and coke, so it's been taken and replaced with more tables) and another in the saloon and then yet another in the back dining room no-one except parties ever use. We'll probably get that one.
Take care. First 'proper' report next Sunday. With Tel. Some things never change, eh?
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| The Warky Report - Back to Life (A) on 11:30 - Aug 6 with 882 views | EdwardStone |
Welcome back....
Just an idle pedantic thought...
Surely your Huntingdonshire love interest would be your "Belle" and you would be her "Beau"
Unless you have decided to travel on the other bus, so to speak |  | | |
| The Warky Report - Back to Life (A) on 12:26 - Aug 6 with 796 views | BanksterDebtSlave |
You got a particularly big awwwwww from Miss Slave....I think you can guess which bit. |  |
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| The Warky Report - Back to Life (A) on 14:10 - Aug 6 with 738 views | Warkystache |
| The Warky Report - Back to Life (A) on 11:30 - Aug 6 by EdwardStone |
Welcome back....
Just an idle pedantic thought...
Surely your Huntingdonshire love interest would be your "Belle" and you would be her "Beau"
Unless you have decided to travel on the other bus, so to speak |
Yes, regret that. She was a she by the way. | |
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| The Warky Report - Back to Life (A) on 14:28 - Aug 6 with 702 views | BlueinBrum |
Always a real pleasure reading these Warky. |  | | |
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