| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) 13:02 - Dec 19 with 2027 views | Warkystache |
The week before the great festivities and it's all gone flat over here in Warky World. Mum's in hospital in Colchester. The rain patters on my french doors and the lawn looks like a cheap, very limited Maldon mud race. The pools of water gather and I've even had two coots and a duck near the garden shed.
I've had to change plans for Christmas. Originally, I'd meant to spend them in Halstead with the Terries, who invited me to their Christmas Eve takeaway bonanza and 'made up' the spare room for a stay until the 27th, after we'd been down the local pub to watch the Leicester game on Boxing Day since neither fancied driving. Now, with mum in hospital and unlikely to be out before New Year, and my dad going to visit her every afternoon, with me in tow, it's all changed.
Hospital visiting doesn't bring out the best, I have to admit. The ward, warm beyond the point of hasty coat removal, smells of cheap gravy and wet dog. The meals they serve, from a stainless steel trolley, look like the stuff Meals on Wheels had left on the back seat after a day driving all over Colchester. Pudding is a tub of ice cream and a plastic thing of Jelly. I mistook it for a sputum pot on the first day I visited and thought "Christ, she's definitely not well".
So my dad, whose commitment to elderly neighbours extended to inviting them for a Christmas Day lunch before mum was admitted and whose culinary skills are more Egg-on-toast than Egon Ronay, and to whom it would be more courteous to confirm the arrangement when they asked him if he wanted to cancel, needs help. So I'm cooking them lunch after a Xmas Day morn spent driving him to and from the hospital ward and seeing my mum. We're ignoring Christmas apart from that. The pressies, we've agreed, can wait until she's home again. The trouble is, they've not been opened following their delivery by Amazon, so we don't actually know what's what.
Saturday was that type of day; a present you wished you'd not opened yet. Tel arrived at 8am, a shock to the system but one that, since his days as a newsagent, he has been well used to. Indeed he was perky, bemoaning my slight but insistent hangover from the night before, itchy-footed as he waited for me to switch off the blinky tree lights and find my trainers.
We walked down to the railway, him complaining of the puddles and the damp grass. "Bleedin' aint walkin' back" he kept muttering, oblivious to our plans to catch the two-fifty train home and head to the pub where Mrs Tel, all leather jacket and black Monsoon scarf and the image of a guitar-smashing Simonon from London Calling fluttering between the two, would collect him later. Post-Indian, which we could walk to as it was just across the road in Manningtree.
There was a smattering of Town at 8.45am. Most were in the steamy confines of the Station Cafe, which was doing a roaring trade in bacon baps and Guinness. Tel and I had a quick pint while we waited for the 9.14. Sat outside, me smoking, him moaning as an occasional waft passed within a foot. "Bleedin' vapes 'ave been invented yer knarr?" he said pointedly. "Should'a stopped by now, nearly fifty you, prime age fer that CO-OP fing int'cher?" I joked that I hadn't been in the Co-Op since they charged me nearly seventeen quid a packet. He didn't get it.
We caught the train. It was full-ish. One middle-aged lady and her husband sported Scum scarves, hers looking like something my mum used to wear as the local Avon Lady in the early '80's. The bloke had a strange light browny yellow Colman's scarf, possibly in the hope he'd be mistaken for a Werthers Original. Tel played up to them, until they smiled politely and moved to another pair of seats further up the coach. When I say he 'played up', I mean he clumsily chafed them, casually mentioning burning down stands and how "Delia Smiff's ruined yer, aint'she?". It was a very one-sided conversation.
The expected police were much in evidence as we alighted. The station resembled "Line of Duty". All that was missing were the tactical armed response units. Tel said a cheery "Mornin'" to the pockets of Suffolk's finest and they smiled and replied in kind. Until we walked over the bridge and saw the merry band of Scummers in the Station Beer Garden, looking like late daffodils as they swayed and made Nescafe signs in the breeze.
The pub was murder, but we found a seat and did the app thingy to order beers and breakfast, which were delivered quite quickly. Later on in the morning, the complaints started from folk who were anxious to get down to PR for the coach meeting and still hadn't received their lukewarm triple egg and sausage butties. We carried on drinking when they departed. Tel couldn't be arsed with the parade. We probably drank a bit too much, to be honest. I definitely saw forty four players on the pitch later. Perhaps that was why we only drew?
You must have seen the game, right? Yeah, Me too. And Terry. We picked it apart afterwards, to the extent that it now feels like we played it yonks ago. For his part, Tel bemoaned the missed chances, the mis-placed passes and the general flatness at the end, plus the pointlessness of making us walk halfway round Cardinals Park after. I couldn't disagree. It felt anti-climactic. We ran the gauntlet of stupid Norwich City fans celebrating and taunting, their big match of the season over and they'd somehow managed a point. Tel, like everyone, wants away-day revenge. He mentioned the Carrow Road rematch. I said it was likelier to find Rocking Horse sh*t than tickets. He went away vowing to get a pair. We'll see.
Back to the pub, a familiar haunt, the gloom of the interior slightly improved by the speckly bands of fairy lights everywhere, the bog urinals full of slowly-draining Lucozade-coloured wee, and the attempts at festive warmth from the faux fire. The bloke at the bar nursed his scratched pint glass of IPA along with his grudges. The bar maids wore Xmas jumpers which accentuated their enormous bosoms but clashed incongruously with their leather mini-skirts and plastic antlers on their heads. Tel attempted a chat-up ("D'you grow horns anywhere else then?") before retiring with that pervy smirk he seems to keep for these occasions.
We drank til seven, keeping an eye on the footy, bemused by the late Burnley game. Then, after a round of double pub brandies and the faces we made as we downed them, we left for curry. I had a starter of mixed tandoor meats and salad. Tel had the lamb chops. By the time we'd finished, the world seemed slightly brighter, if not the weather. Back to the pub for an aperitif, then along came Mrs Tel at ten-thirty and he decanted into their SUV and was away, promising Christmas delights which I've now, sadly, had to postpone for another year.
It's all a shame. Never mind. Perhaps we'll do Leeds away instead? Watch out for the Warky Christmas Report on Christmas Eve. And remember me, and feel glad.
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| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 13:51 - Dec 19 with 1862 views | BanksterDebtSlave |
Sorry to hear your news Warky and hope your mum isn't too bad!!
Happy Christmas regardless from the family Slave xxx |  |
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| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 15:58 - Dec 19 with 1713 views | Westover |
Let's hope your Mum is soon on the mend and hope Christmas 🎄 goes as well as it can and a happy New year. |  | | |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 16:44 - Dec 19 with 1647 views | runaround |
Hope your mum is better soon mate |  | | |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 16:53 - Dec 19 with 1625 views | usm |
Hope your Mum get better soon, Warky and hopefully you can have a good Christmas, whenever that might be. |  |
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| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 20:43 - Dec 19 with 1438 views | peterleeblue |
All the best for your Mum Warky.
Hope Town can bring you some festive cheer along the way. |  | | |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 21:15 - Dec 19 with 1368 views | MillsyVOR |
Love you Warky ❤️ |  | | |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 23:04 - Dec 19 with 1271 views | kiwiblue |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 15:58 - Dec 19 by Westover |
Let's hope your Mum is soon on the mend and hope Christmas 🎄 goes as well as it can and a happy New year. |
Best wishes for you mum with a quick recovery, horrible place hospitals but very necessary as we age.
Would have loved being at the match but a long way to go and really pleased with Towntv and Bein sports out here on the edge of the earth when its on Sky . My take on the game was buy Sara and Rowe or similar.
Onwards to the next match. Up the football league we go. |  | | |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 06:42 - Dec 20 with 1139 views | Warkystache |
Thanks guys - she's improving slowly so here's hoping.
See you all soon - well, Sunday, if everyone's happy with the Christmas one? | |
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| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 08:29 - Dec 20 with 1047 views | hype313 |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 06:42 - Dec 20 by Warkystache |
Thanks guys - she's improving slowly so here's hoping.
See you all soon - well, Sunday, if everyone's happy with the Christmas one? |
Best part of the forum Warky, crack on please |  |
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| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 15:22 - Dec 20 with 860 views | Eireannach_gorm |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 06:42 - Dec 20 by Warkystache |
Thanks guys - she's improving slowly so here's hoping.
See you all soon - well, Sunday, if everyone's happy with the Christmas one? |
Good to hear your mum is on the mend and hopefully will get out before Christmas Day.
Love the ' Egg-on-toast than Egon Ronay ' culinary assessment.
Happy and peaceful Christmas to you and our family. |  | | |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 16:20 - Dec 20 with 798 views | hype313 |
| The Warky Championship Report: Scum (H) on 15:22 - Dec 20 by Eireannach_gorm |
Good to hear your mum is on the mend and hopefully will get out before Christmas Day.
Love the ' Egg-on-toast than Egon Ronay ' culinary assessment.
Happy and peaceful Christmas to you and our family. |
Reminds me of the Burger van outside Yates's in the 90's (Lipsmackers or the name it was before) with the sign saying "Egon Ronay Wept Here" | |
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