Friday, November 09, 2007

We Shall Not Be Moved



A lovely quote from Ricky Hattons dad: And if Ricky wins, what then? Might it go to his head? "Don't worry about that," Ray responds firmly. "The people around him will make sure of that. If myself or his brother Matthew don't tell him he's becoming a Billy Big Bollocks then, take it from me, his mother certainly will."

On Wednesday, my gaffer snuck in after hours, like a thief in the night, and emptied his desk of all his personal belongings. Another good man gone, for no good reason. This is a piss poor game I find myself in. I could go on, again, about the wicked managers, but sod it, we all know about that now. I had the misfortune to spend the entire morning with a load of them, and in the end, you can't help but pity them, with their determination to have the last word, even though several others have already uttered it.

Driving across to Abertillery this morning I saw the most stunning, vivid rainbow I think I have ever seen and it just stayed there, for miles; then, the colours of the trees on the main road down to Ebbw Vale were something to behold, following which, gazing out of the window, mid morning, the colours on some bush against a dark sky, were brilliant and jaw dropping.Later still, driving through the Wye Valley, there were stunning shafts of brilliant white light piercing the distant gloom. I'm not even going to start on the splendour of the Severn. As good as it was, and as much I appreciate nature and beauty, I'm still skint, but the beauty has gone, just like my old gaffer.

Have a read of a young, hip, Kelmanesque Muslim. Seriously, it's good, and it's free, but you might want to buy it.

Blues play Villa on Sunday and I try not to care, but I do. I hate these games, really, really hate them. I will have a knot in my stomach from now until Wednesday, whatever the result. I won't be going, but watching on the box is probably worse than being there. No one that I will see on Monday will give a monkeys; I don't have to worry about endless, merciless piss taking if we lose, but there is something primeval at work here and a loss will leave me feeling utterly trampled. I think the family has learned that it is probably best not speak to me for several hours after these games.
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