I got up reasonably early today- ten-ish (yeah I know, you all get up at seven to commence your exciting lives -Pah!). The sun was shining and time to get my curls cut. I had hopes of growing my hair, seems I always do, but when it gets to the unattended look, I lose heart and have it cut. Besides at some point it would mean having to face the possibility of a ponytail, and that's illegal.
I got home and grabbed the dogs headed here. Been faffing around adding some stuff to my Hoover, some of which I borrowed from Rob. Specifically this track though, which really lifted the spirits, and occasionally, nearly (isbw, take heed) made me break out into a run.
Madame Suicide reminds me she's off to spend my hard earned money on my return. I remind her I haven't any, so she steals my credit cards and is gone.
On, then, to the important business of the day. Last home game of the season. I love attending football matches, always have. It's theatre to me (well, maybe panto). I'm not much good at the stats and the history and the standings in the tables (not to mention the drinking and shouting). I just love to be there. It's the one place I can go and all the troubles melt away. Literally nothing matters when I'm inside the ground. Time stands still.
Now and then, you get to see a rock god in the flesh. I like to watch people's reaction to this particular character as he makes his way around the ground.. Some say 'Hi' to him, most just stop as he gets level with them and stare at his back. He wanders among us like a mortal.
I linger after the game has been won, to watch the player of the year awards, and the lap of honour by the team. It's been a reasonable season and maybe it's not over yet.
Home again, in the sunshine, to dinner with Madame S. and the hounds of hell.
She doesn't want to watch a movie, so I meander and potter and listen to the fabulous last.fm.
I've been reading blog entries recently where authors are trying to define their goals in life. I don't really intend to follow this trap. A goal is a destination, I intend to enjoy the journey*.
I feel blessed.
* © Valentine Suicide Bullshit and Cliched Philosophy. All Rights Reserved. heh.
8 comments:
If I saw Robert Plant at football I'd tell him to get a bloody haircut. Much as I love Zeppelin of course.
I doubt if any Forest supporters, apart from me and my mate, know who he is. If he was in Kasabian it'd be a different matter entirely.
For some strange reason, the Manics' James Bradfield is a Forest supporter.
Anyway, let's just hope that next week Forest win and Bristol City lose. I'm going too, hurrah!
First time I saw him, I was in a tight corner in the club shop and had to push past him to get out. Was quite disconcerting.
JDB is a Forest supporter? How come?
I assume they were riding high when he discovered football and he jumped on the success bandwagon?
I wish you well for the weekend. Be nice to have one of the 'sleeping giants' back in contention. Now where did Leeds go?
This is going to sound extremely nasty, but I'd (in the words of Kevin Keegan) love it, just love it if Leeds went down.
I've got mixed feelings about Derby's possible promotion too. Obviously, I'm conditioned to hate Derby with a passion, but it'd be good for Midlands' football if they went up with Birmingham. They've now got the trauma of play-offs to look forward too.
Weirdly though, as much we hate one another, there's a weird kind of kinship between Forest and Derby supporters due to the Brian Clough connection, and players swapping between the teams.
I now have this image in my head of old Percy Plant shagging Tori Amos in a Wolves duvet cover he'd bought from the club shop. Then making notes about it - for future lyrical ideas - in a Wolves jotter with a Wolves pen he got out of a Wolves pencil case.
Don't know where JDBs support for Forest comes from, it's just one thing that sticks in my mind from an interview I read with him in Q at the time of If You Tolerate This. They asked them what their new-found wealth from Everything Must Go had bought them. Bradfield said he'd bought a Forest season ticket.
Sorry to tear this comments section away from its football orientation but:-
1. I have a shirt just like Robert Plant's in that picture.
2. Your dogs are very cute.
3. "define their goals in life" I am still meandering in a rather goalless way, so I won't be doing as Goal Definition Blog Post any time soon. Maybe I need to find myself some goals.
Now I'll away and let you get back to your football talk.
I'm very pleased to be offering a service here, VS!
Your feet want to run. It's obvious.
I suggest you download the theme from 'Black Beauty' on to your Hoover, and next time you're out with the dogs, put it on. Before you know it you will be pounding majestically over the fields, nostrils flaring and mane blowing in the wind...
Got no strong feelings about Leeds really Rich, though I work closely with a Derby fan, and his feelings on Forest mirror yours on the Rams.
I now share your Bob Plant images, so thanks for sharing on that! I might try and get him arrested for shoplifting some of the items though. That'd be a wheeze.
Hello Gwen, wasn't really intended as a football post. More of a happy Saturday post. Thanks for the comments on the hounds. If you ever feel like babysitting....?
Rob - Have to keep saying thanks for the posts...Sorry for the 'borrowing'.
isbw - My feet may want to run, but I keep spilling the Jamesons down me smoking jacket, so it's hardly practical!
My nostrils are currently flared, my eyebrows are arched and my mane is moulting majestically in the wind..
Funnily enough I was dreaming about dogs last night. I was at my aunt's house trying, unsuccessfully, to eat a tasty chocolate brownie because her dog (a large black labrador) was eating most of it himself. I'm not sure what that means. Maybe it means that I should be going on a diet!
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