The End Of Snowvember

I'm still not feeling amazing. The 2nd of my 4 days off... no, wait, 3 DAYS off, has bought nothing but pure boredom. So much so that I agreed to work Thursday night, meaning I only have 3 days off now. But what's the point of having a day off if you can't do anything?

Even more so now because of the snow... Seriously, why everyone loves it so much is beyond me. When you go outside, you instantly become so frozen that you can hardly move, and if you do move you have to wear ice-skates in order to not fall over constantly. When you decide against walking, (or slipping), your way round to the shops, you climb in your car. Only to find you have to crawl at 2mph and when you press the brake pedals, nothing happens. Meaning certain death.

I am not a child anymore, meaning snow fights are completely pointless and only makes you even colder and wetter. Not that there is anyone to have a snow fight with. Having a snow fight with yourself sort of defeats the object... I could go and grab a snowball and bring it inside, chuck it at Father Mitten, and run off. But I'm not certain he'd appreciate that. And I would fall over anyway.

In short, snow completely ruins everything. I narrowly missed out on a couple of tickets to West Ham United tonight for the football, but I'm not too certain I'd have wanted to go anyway. Getting there would of been a nightmare, I would have frozen my arse off and for what? To watch a Man United second-string play in a nonsensical competition for kids. I'd rather stay in, being warm and lazy than be subjected to torture by cold!

Things aren't looking up I'm afraid. Everything just doesn't seem to want to get going, being frozen by the cold weather no doubt, and I feel like I am stuck at the moment. Not sure what to do with myself at the best of times and my life is split into 3 sections. Work, sleep and being bored. I enjoyed a nice pub lunch with Kettle and StarBuck, (not sure where that came from..), yesterday, putting rubbish to my thoughts that I am forgotten and had a good, but thought-provoking, catch-up with CW last night even if the discussion made me realise I am completely useless at the moment, when it comes to anything.

Even a slip into town, where I bought some new cricket gear, did little to brighten my mood. Why am I buying cricket gear in the middle of this cold winter you may ask? It's cheaper. And technically, I didn't buy them. Mother Mitten did as an early Crimbo present. New gloves, new Inner gloves, ("What do you need Inner Gloves for?") and a new helmet to go along with my new bat means I have pretty much a new look for the new cricket season, which I have to admit, I would like to come sooner rather than later.

The last cricket season was the only thing I have enjoyed these past couple of years. Just batting in the glorious warm weather, hearing the sound of the ball on the middle of your bat, (although some people would argue that they heard the ball hitting their stumps more...), and if not, then just relaxing in the Sun. Hitting a 100 aswell, I was thinking the other day, was just awesome. There's nothing better. Now? I have to endure the boredom whilst being cold or have to work whilst being even more cold. With only the football to look forward to every tiresome Sunday. I knew it was going to be a tough Winter...

And even my attempts at trying to build relationships are being largely ignored. I don't really wish to talk about it, not on here, but it would do me well to talk about it in private. if you fancy listening to me moan about it, feel free to ask!

But for now, I must, a) warm-up and b) find something to do.

Ciao x

Unattached

I don't feel too good at the moment. I feel like no one really bothers what I do, or how I do it or whether they want to speak to me at all. In short, I am incredibly lonely.

The job is an underlying factor. But I would of hoped some people would at least try and talk to me or bother in what I'm doing these days, even if it the same old rubbish. No one seems fussed. I'm not getting invited to things, day after day, I have a total of 0 texts on my phone, no attempt from anyone to communicate. They all seem to be getting on with having fun while I waste away in the darkness...

Friends who I considered awesome and fantastic, and still do, haven't even tried to talk in days. Apparently, one of them is back in Bedford for the weekend, not that I knew. Maybe I am not wanted anymore. Maybe people have become fed up of my moaning and whingeing all the time that they no longer want to be associated. Maybe I'm stuck with only The Wall as company until I go to university..

Winter does strange things to me. The cold makes me extra-down and there seems like there is nothing I can do about it. Even the prospect of another 4 nights off next week does little to improve my mood. What's the point in having time off if there is no one to enjoy the time with? I might aswell spend it at work and get a bit of extra money under my belt, instead of wasting away in the cold, with no one.

I have been in an awful mood all week, mind you. Barely speaking to anyone, just getting lost in my thoughts while I do the same mundane tasks night after night after night. Turn up at 9:45, complete 8 hours of the same routine, before waiting for 10 minutes while the car defrosts itself before going home and doing nothing until bed. Just the same old useless rubbish, and even this morning, football is cancelled, so it's exactly the same. Sitting here, bored. Cold. Lonely.

I need something to happen. Even if it is just talking to someone, catching up on what they've been up to, even if I have nothing to update them on myself. I just want to know from someone that I am not forgotten about.

I'm rather upset about it all.

x

That's Not Snow

How can 2 minutes of a bit of white powdery stuff turn everyone into self-obsessed 6 year olds? At 4am, it snowed a bit and then 3 and a half minutes later, it stopped.

Everyone this morning then goes mad.

"It's SNOWING! Oh my god!" ..... "This snow better f*** off in time for football!" .... "It's so cold and SNOW!"

Please grow up everyone. It's not even snow, more like a bit of bum fluff and what's more, it does nothing but wreak havoc on everyone trying to get to work or even drive to the shops and, if there is enough of it, (which there isn't), puts the whole of the country at a complete standstill. How is that a good thing?

In other news, where the climate is the complete opposite, I recieved many an update tonight about the 1st Ashes test where we got pummelled by Hussey and co. It's funny that we've been slaughtered by 2 players, (Hussey and Siddle), who weren't even supposed to play. Hussey got a ton before the 1st test so sneaked in and Siddle only played because of an injury scare to useless left-armer Doug Bollinger. The fickle finger of fate..

And as for work... Well, you know what, we won't even go there.

Ciao x

Holiday Blues

I've decided to delay my decision of whether I should carry on this job until after Christmas. Let me get the triple pay under the belt before I decide whether to continue. I've put my sudden dislike of the job down to the fact I was suffering from an acute bout of the holiday blues. Getting back into the swing of things after 9 very fun and eventful days off is hard to do, you know.

I don't know. Tonight was better than last night, despite the fact there was a lot more to do than usual, and I can't help but think that tomorrow is going to be awful. So much so that my inevitable blog post tomorrow will have me whingeing about how I, "spoke too soon" and will quit as soon as possible. But when it came down to it tonight, I just couldn't speak my mind. The manager is just too much of a legend to give him some bad news. Sounds ridiculous doesn't it. I'm not sure I have the bottle to make such a decision. My parents would screw, I would let down a whole team of colleagues who, if I say so myself, rely on a couple of us on nights to get jobs done, even if I do hate it that way, and I imagine life would be rubbish without any income.

Maybe this is just life. Good days where you think you can do this job forever and bad days where you just want to quit and never come back. I have had the stages in the past, and maybe I'm just going through a bad one?

Too many thoughts going through my head at the moment, and my laptop won't even let me watch any Ashes highlights to brighten my mood... Tonight, is going to be, horrific.

Cya x

All Things Must Come To An End

I'm 99% there I reckon. Yesterday I was very 50/50 about whether or not I was going to call it a day with this job, but 20 minutes in to tonight and I told myself I can't possibly carry on for much longer. I need to get out as soon as possible.

There are a list of reasons as to why I want to go.

1) The tasks. When I started at BP, I was running around trying to get everything done, not having enough time to complete all of my tasks. 8 months on, we've had the task of baking no bread at all, increased to baking half the bread and increased AGAIN to all the bread in the last couple of weeks, cleaning the toilets, re-stocking the chiller and cooking these stupid hot muffin things, added on. An impossible list of tasks made even more impossible.

2) Working conditions. Anyone who has been to BP on Newnham Avenue, which is probably most of you, can tell that the temperature in there is insanely cold. In the Summer, people say it's freezing. In Winter, you need to wear your whole wardrobe to stand a chance of not getting ill. It really is that bad. Tonight, the temperature in that store would cause a riot in most places. If most people had to work in that temperature, they wouldn't stand it.

3) My Colleagues. I'm not just talking about The Wall here. Although he is the biggest problem. I'm talking about everyone. Most of them are great people. They have a laugh, they're easy to get on with and they are great. But when it comes to doing work, most of them skirt around actually doing it and leave it all for us to do, knowing that if we don't, we'll be the ones who get in trouble for it.

4) The Wall. I cannot explain to you the magnitude of this problem. When I write it down it doesn't sound that big, but when it actually happens, anything can happen. When The Wall has one of his legendary fits, the place is thrown into turmoil. It is potentially incredibly dangerous, too dangerous. I do not want to be involved in a scenario like it again. I don't mind so much that he is an annoying little cretin who pisses me off more than any other human being on Earth, because, unfortunately, I may well come across people like that in any other job I do. Just the epilepsy... It really isn't fair on me.

And if they're not going to do anything about it, then I need to. Personal safety comes before money and financial gain. Always. I don't care if I don't have a job for 6 months before I go off to university if I don't have to put myself in a situation where my safety is at risk.

It takes me back to one of the fits he had, where had a pair of scissors in his hand at the time. He could of done anything with those? He could of stabbed me? It sounds ridiculous, but he could of.

And that is what I mean. None of you will understand, but I have to leave. I have to.

So, tomorrow, I plan to speak to Legend Alex and tell him. I may well offer to work through Christmas so I can get a bit of 'triple-time' money before I leave. I'll see. But I'm afraid it's the end of yet another era.

Bye x

I Feel An End Of An Era Coming

I've been terribly down today. Not down, but terribly down. Back to the levels of last winter and I can't work out why. Maybe it's because I go back to work tomorrow, but I've been thinking, I'm not really that fussed about that. It'll be rubbish yeah, but it's not that. I don't know...

Work is a strange one anyway. Tomorrow and Thursday, I will be with The Capable One, so it will be long and un-interesting but working with someone who can actually do their job usually makes it uneventful and easy, so it won't be a problem. The weekend however? I just feel like I am at my wits end with The Wall. I haven't even done a shift with him yet and already I know I won't be able to handle it. The incompetence, the winding up, the sheer incapability to do his job means I will get into trouble for it. It's been an all too familiar pattern the last few months. The last 9 days have been great, but honestly, I cannot go back to work with him. He wins.

I'll give the weekend a chance. I won't go steaming in there tomorrow night, shouting to stuff your job where the Sun don't shine and walk back out again. It's unfair on the good people who work there, many of which there are. I won't just walk out without working some sort of notice. I may not even walk out at all, remember. I'm just brainstorming... But the ultimatum I put forward a couple of weeks back still stands.

One more strike, and it's not him that's out. It's me.

I went in there earlier actually to top up the Mittenmobile. Apparently, he had one of his infamous fits on Friday night when I was living it up in Manchester and then subsequently called in sick on the Saturday at 9:50, leaving Cool Will to work 16 hours straight. That's just unfair. It's the absolute low of manners and politeness to call in sick 10 minutes before you're supposed to start. And this job is not like you can just work with a man down at nights and get on with it. There HAS to be 2 people. There HAS to be. 100% of the time. He's done it a few times and how he gets away with it just astounds me. The amount of times I get into trouble for missing a few specs of dust or not facing forward a tin of beans and he can do that?

It's things like that that really gets on my nerves about that place. People can get away with calling in sick at stupid times or not turning up at all and they get away with it, yet I don't front up properly and get a "Counselling" (more like a conversation) for it. How is that fair? And yes, the man who didn't turn up a few weeks back on a Sunday morning didn't even get a bad word in his ear for it. Just let him carry on. Remember when the clocks went back and I ended up doing 12 hours? Yep. Nothing. Not a word.

I do realise I am ranting here, but if I'm to survive this week, (which at the moment is in the balance, honestly), then I need to get this off my chest.

It's one thing I hate. Pure impoliteness to your friends or colleagues. The feeling that you don't give a crap about what they must do to cover your laziness. And it's the sort of thing you find in a job like this. A dead-end job. No one gives a damn whether they get sacked or not, because they can just go and find another dead-end job.

No one doing their job properly, taking the attitude of, "Oh well, the night shift will clear it up for us", I can't take a lot more of it. Recently, we got given even more tasks, even though we don't have the time for the ones we already have, and I know, I just know, that we won't be able to get them done. And we'll get bollocked for it.

You probably haven't got a clue what I'm talking about. But I don't care. We will see what happens in this long week and by Sunday morning, maybe Monday morning, my mind will be made up. And at the moment, it's in favour of...

.. 'No More'.... 'End'....

Mother Mitten knows I'm on the verge. She came into my room before I went to Manchester and said, "So, one more night like tonight and you're gone hey?". I said, "Yep." She said no more. I think she understands. I hope so. When I quit my job at SmartMove, (Yes, you read that right...), I still owed them money so they were not happy. Now, I don't owe them money.

Go back to my post ages ago entitled, "Did I say I KEPT my job?!" ... It explains all.

And even if I do quit, it's not as if I'm left with nowhere to go. I've got university to prepare for,(hopefully), and even if it is a fair few months away, I can't help but think I may not enjoy it... My thoughts at this moment are that I'm going to enjoy my course more than the socialising parts.. Why?

The course is sport. Sport is my life and being surrounded by it sounds superb. The socialising? I'm going to be surrounded by 18-year olds who have only just discovered drinking and will try and persuade me to go out every night and end up like I did last Saturday.. I can't do that. I don't have the energy.

I don't have the energy to do a lot at the moment, definitely not enough energy to put up with The Wall for another 9 months... He doesn't look like going, so maybe I should. Some would say I'm being weak and some would say I need to pull my sleeves up and get on with, but they are not the ones who have to put up with it night after night after night... Night after night of incapability and plain rudeness.

Any policeman walks in the door, he says, "Watch out child, he's after you", as he thinks I'm a hoody-wearing, binge-drinking thug. Anyone who looks under-18 walks in and he asks if I went "stabbing" with him last week. Any girl walks in and he tells me to, "stop staring at her". It's serious, serious childishness. I cannot stand childishness.

I have never hated someone so much. I cannot stress it enough.

I can't fight against it any more. This week, especially come the weekend, I will update you on how close I am to cracking and quitting. At the moment it's 50-50. Who knows what the weekend has in store.

It's clear I have no fight in me, as I have fought for the past 8 months and lost. Nearly.

x

Hair Of The Dog (Sleep Version)

Too much of something, I have learnt, makes you feel rubbish. Some of them are obvious. Too much alcohol, as I have found out a fair few times including this weekend, makes you sick. Too much Dairy Milk makes you feel fat and sick and too much Tropicana brings out the worst of you. Namely your bowels.

But, some things aren't so obvious. For example, too much sleep. If you stay up for most hours of the weekend, come home and crash out for 19 hours, which I used to do a lot of in the Summer for cricket, isn't good. I went to sleep at roughly midnight on Sunday night and woke up at 7.30pm on Monday. That's 19.5 hours of pure sleep.

Laziness? Yes.

I was destined for another night of trying to find things to do whilst I watch as my fellow companions drifted off to sleep at different times of the night. I started off with a Dominos in my desperate attempt to get fat, followed by a bit of Football Manager which saw my incredible 67 game unbeaten run as Real Madrid manager come to an end. Yes, I am that sad.

Since then? Read 1/20th of a book... watched 35 minutes of Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince which I found on DVD in a plastic bag under my bed and literally stared at the ceiling for 45 minutes, all because I am too tired to do anything productive. Too tired after 19 and a half hours sleep? How is that possible? As I lie here, typing this, it is 4 minutes to 5am and I am fighting hard to stay awake, despite it being the middle of my afternoon.

Part of me is looking forward to going back to work of me on Wednesday. 9 days off is more than enough these days.. I'm not certain how I coped with the boredom of having 6 weeks off in the Summer with no money and nothing to do. Work gives me something to do and despite being at the worst time of day, with the worst people on Planet Earth and in the worst place in The Milky Way, it does the most important things of all.

Gives me money, and makes me respectable.

Sleeping for 19 and a half hours, playing Football Manager whilst eating large bars of Dairy Milk does not make me feel these things. Instead it makes me feel like a fat, unemployed hobo with nothing better to do.

Come Thursday, I'll be wanting another holiday, so maybe I should just enjoy it while I can? Back to sleep I go then!

Ciao x

How To Make A Taxi Driver Cry

I just don't know where to start with the weekend I have just experienced. Seriously, so many things happened, especially yesterday...

Ok, it makes sense to start at the beginning. Get ready for the most amazing, yet hazy and sketchy tale of the weekend that promised so much, and gave so much more.

Friday night had come. Excitement was off the scale and so was my patience as I had to wait the best part of 40 minutes for Mr. OCD to make sure his fridge was the right temperature and the TV was in the exact same place it was 6 months and 14 days ago. Still, at 5:40pm, we were on the road to Manchester. We were on the wrong road to Manchester, but none the less, we were on the road! The SatNav was playing up, and it sent us through Northampton, but soon enough we were back on track and only a small time was lost. 3 long hours it took for us to get there, but the anticipation of what was bound to be an interesting weekend kept us going. Just what we were getting ourselves into though, wasn't to be expected!

Friday night, historically, is the better night. We went to 5th Avenue, (yep, Beddoe's favourite place in the whole wide world), and it was a good night. Drink, good music, dancing, it was fantastic to live a life once more. Beddoe recieved compliments from someone that he was the body double of Justin Bieber and we witnessed the homecoming of Hagrid, but otherwise, nothing extraordinary happened, unless you count Beddoe's walking speed and his tendency to wander off leaving me and Colin wondering where the hell we are.. We left the club at... 3? What followed was an extremely cold walk to find some food. We ended up in SPAR but Beddoe wanted to make the long journey to Gemini to see his old friend Ali The Happy Man, and by the time we got back to Beddoe's it was very late, and we, were very cold.

I offered to sleep on the very hard and very uncomfortable brown sofa downstairs, (no... wait.. upstairs?), so not much sleep was gained before we awoke Saturday morning. Not that we knew, but that night was something to behold.

Before that though, I drove the others to The Odeon cinema in The Trafford Centre to see the new Potter movie. Me, being a self-confessed Potter geek, was quite looking forward to it and I'm glad to say it was a good movie, despite Beddoe's best efforts at trying not to laugh at obvious innuendos about wands... Boy, that kid is ridiculous. Arsenal being humiliatingly beaten by Spurs and Chelsea losing yet again, also increased my mood and I, seeing as "I was being paid for this", (and I let the others know of this aswell!), was ready to party.

The last couple of times, Saturday nights in Manchester have kind of failed to happen. Once, I just didn't want to, and the other one was just a classic fail. I was determined to not let that happen again, and, I think it's safe to say, I didn't.

Well, it's open to debate really. It didn't last very long, but during the time it did... Boy...

Ok, once again, we shall start from the beginning. This is going to be a bit hazy so bear with me.

We got back from the Trafford Centre at about 7? I can't even remember that.. We had something to eat and I embarked on my first drink of the night seeing as the JD needed to be seen off. I wasn't going to let good alcohol go to waste! As "pre-drinks" wore on, I got a bit more ... exuberant and after a few classic Mitten-style texts and calls to a few others, (apologies), we were ready to go. Beddoe's pleas of going to visit a Gentleman's Club were largely ignored, and we stepped into the cab to go to... somewhere... Yeah.. Where was it again?

Font! We went to a place called Font, after queueing up for ages simply to get some money. We got talking to a pair of students from Newcastle, who were completely sober and must of looked at us wondering how the hell one person can be so drunk so early. The thoughts of, "lightweight", were visible in their eyes, but I didn't care. I was reminded in the morning that I spent the whole time apologising for my disgraceful drunkenness and also hit the shutter of the shop behind us, for no reason whatsoever. The acts of the drunk are just unexplainable..

Still, we finally reached the cash point and, I swear, my intention was to take out 20 quid. I knew I had had a lot, and I definitely wouldn't be needing more than that. Seeing as my eyes were already a bit blurry, (I know... I'm a featherweight, I don't drink these days!), I ended up just pressing a button. When £40 came out, my thoughts were this: "Suppose I'd better spend it then!"

And spend it I did! In Font, I went absolutely mental. My thoughts when drunk base around being a popular guy and trying to get on well with complete strangers. We got talking to a group of lads who were drunk, but not Mitten Drunk, and I reckon they might well have had a free night! £2 cocktails were not to be refused and I must have had 5 or 6 Sex On The Beaches aswell as a couple of Moo-Moo's myself on top of what the hell I bought these randomers.. Don't as me, I don't know! What the hell are Moo-Moo's?!

(I have just been told by Mr.B, they are in fact 'Woo-Woo's'... That'll explain it....!)

You must remember that I had seen off a bottle of JD and some vodka and a few bottles of Corona, (don't tell Colin!), back at the house, which is way more than enough for someone like me... But I went mad. I had promised that I was going to go all out, but I knew I was going to over do it. My thoughts again? This is going only one way, so let's get to it! It's so immature I know... I really should know better.

The photos, which I haven't yet seen, must be ridiculous. A bit of embarrassment is coming my way I reckon, but at the time, I couldn't have cared one jot.

After I had done my good deed for the day, (gave a tramp a tenner you know!) We moved on to a place called Factory? Which is where it all started to go a bit wrong. I paid a mammoth £6 to get in, and lasted 10 minutes, paying not enough money for a few VodBulls, (i have literally just remembered, I may have been about £2 short...!), but I didn't care. I knew exactly what was coming. Or did I?

To save myself the endless embarrassment of the inevitable vomit that was going to come, I made my way outside, avidly followed by a drunk pair of friends, and made my way to ... nowhere! I just walked. For some reason, I felt very, very angry. Maybe at my childishness of letting myself get into a state where I tell myself I would never get into again. This time however, I had prepared for such a predicament so maybe had a little mental preperation for what was going to come. Beddoe kept trying to grab my shoulders, trying to avert the direction I was walking in, almost like an OAP being guided by a nurse, but I shrugged him off time after time. I remember it starting to get annoying as I just wanted to walk. At the time, I didn't care where.. Just walk.. Beddoe grabbed my shoulders yet again, in an attempt to get me to stop and I may have boiled over. It was definitely the drink talking, I wasn't really angry at Beddoe, I was just angry at myself. I aimed a punch for his nose, but missed and hit his shoulder, before walking off at break neck speed to the nearest cab. I must say now, I didn't want to hurt Beddoe, but I didn't want him grabbing my shoulder every 10 seconds. The effects that drink has..

Now. I bet this taxi driver didn't know what was coming. I sure did. I knew exactly what was going to happen, and opened the window in preperation. As we were driving, it didn't take long... I won't be graphic, but let's just say... I aimed for outside the window... and missed.

I didn't stick around to get murdered by a taxi driver. I hadn't bothered doing my seatbelt, and just opened the door and ran. Just ran. I heard the cries of the taxi driver shout but I didn't care. I don't remember what happened next, but a lot of hijacking of phones and facebook accounts ensued, while I was sleeping..

The stories next morning were something to behold. The taxi driver had charged Colin £40 for the mess, seeing as he could no longer take any more passengers. I duly paid Colin back in the morning, but the crying of the taxi driver will always stick with me. I might aswell have slaughtered his family for the crying that I heard. It seemed I had ruined his livelihood, but hey.. it happens. It didn't help either that Colin broke out into a chorus of Taio Cruz's 'Break Your Heart'... Not the best timing there mate... He legged it aswell before the cabbie swung for him!

There are so many things that happened, but the details in my head are incredibly hazy. It will take some time and anecdotal updating for me to get to grips with exactly what I had done to Manchester. I had bruised it, and I reckon I was probably the drunkest guy in Manchester for one night.

The reason I went mad was because of frustration. Frustration at working while everyone else is playing. I needed to let go and now, I have. It may not have been very healthy for me, or the bank balance, but even now, I don't care. I'm not fussed. I won't want to drink for a long time now, so it won't matter that I have to go to work, because I wouldn't want to go out. I suppose it can't go on like that, but maybe it will...

University entered my head aswell. I may well not be able to keep up with a load of 18 year-olds which is good news for my degree. Bad news for my friendships though, I reckon. I may need a bit more education on that though..

As a weekend though, if there are stories to tell, and boy, there were, then you know it's been a good one. I didn't even feel that bad the morning after. A bit of a headache but in a few hours I was fine and after a Subway and a couple of non-alcoholic beverages, I was ready to make the drive home. That was long. But, in the same way the anticipation had kept us going on the way here, the anecdotes kept us going on the way back.

I may have gone way O.T.T and yes, I may have endangered myself more than I have ever done, but I don't care. Life is for living, and I refuse to live it at a petrol station.

10/10.

x

Being A Referee

Talk amongst yourselves for a little while if you're not interested in my refereeing career. I feel I haven't spoken enough about it in this blog, seeing as it was the best thing I ever did. Qualify as a football referee.

This season, I really haven't been able to do a lot because of the job and all but every other Thursday night, a small gap appears in my diary which enables me to be an Assistant Referee in the Northants Senior Youth League. The fact I only get to be involved once every fortnight means I look forward to my matches a lot and tonight was no different!

I was put on the Bedford FC vs Brackley Town match, a bit of a mismatch as Bedford are languishing towards the bottom end of the table and Brackley, much the opposite. Being an Assistant, I feel, is tougher than being the man in the middle. It requires much more concentration and better positioning, both things I struggle on in refereeing.

I turned up at the ground at roughly 6.30pm for a 7:45 kick off, in a jovial mood, especially as I haven't got to go to work tomorrow and will instead be trekking up to Manchester. I met the other officials, Charlie, (who was in the middle tonight), and John, (the other Assistant). Charlie is younger than me, 17, but a really good up and coming referee. John is from the other end of the age spectrum, a Level 4 assessor, so he knew his stuff and gave us both a lot of pointers, in a friendly and respectful manner. We hung around for a bit, as we were a bit early, enjoying a cup of much needed hot coffee before going to have a walk around the pitch. I was talking to Charlie about his season. Something that I couldn't really give a view on, seeing as I haven't had one!

Not the best thing to bring up at this stage, but young Charlie is a good-looking young fella! Sorry, but I couldn't help but take a bit of a fancy to him! I didn't tell him though, obviously!

At about 7:15, we went back to the changing rooms to change into our all-black kit, and went out for a vigorous warm-up in the viciously cold weather. The temperature had really dropped and I sort of regretted only bringing a short-sleeved top! It was OK once I started running around though.

After the pre-match instruction talk from Ref Charlie, we made our way out to the middle after the mandatory stud and jewellery check. I've always thought checking player's studs seemed a bit pointless, until about a year ago, when I found a shard of glass stuck in between a player's studs. Since then, I always check valiantly.

7:45 and kick off. I was on the opposite side from the dugouts, which was already extremely muddy and resembled a mud bath after the amount of rain we've had. As the match wore on, I ended up stepping further and further back to avoid running in pure mud. It was tough on the legs, but a good workout none the less. The game? Was a poor one to be honest, Brackley went 4-0 up after 30 minutes and from then on, it was plain sailing. There was no Spurs-like comeback from Bedford and they went down 5-1 in the end. Not many decisions to make for any of us, and it was an easy nights work for all 3 of us.

We commented on each other's performances, as you do, on the way back and there was very little negativity, which is always good. No need for needless negativity when you've finished, as some other referees do. Praise builds confidence and makes a better referee. As I said before, I find being an Assistant more difficult than being the Referee. The concentration required to keep, "seeing the triangle" between ball, defensive line and referee is difficult to keep up for 90 minutes, especially when the game is dead. Crabbing on mud is also difficult on the old calf muscles, ('Crabbing' is referee talk for 'Side-stepping')! Sometimes, I find myself ball-watching and lose the defensive line and I reckon it's something I need to work on. I am a solid Assistant though, and seeing as I don't do anything else these days, it's a good opportunity to get better!

As we got changed back into our shirt and ties, admittedly with me trying not to look at good-looking Charlie, our match fees came in, a solid £23 to take to Manchester tomorrow. That's one night paid for! Well, me being the lightweight I probably am these days, maybe both nights?

I can't comment on how much I am looking forward to the exploits that are bound to be from the weekend coming up. Words do not speak loud enough. I hope it lives up to the anticipation.

And if it doesn't, my friend Mr.Jack Daniels will try his damnest to change it!

See you Sunday night! If I'm not dead or imprisoned...

x

Now For The Interesting Part... Nearly!

The first few days have all been preperation. I have my new haircut, that isn't really new at all, I've pumped the tyres up, and most importantly, bought my JD, and I'm ready to have the biggest party I've ever had.

To be honest, nothing has really happened in the last few days. It's all been fairly boring housekeeping and present searching seeing as it's Father Mitten's birthday tomorrow. I was tempted to buy him a new pair of crutches or a bell to ring so that his servant, (Mother Mitten), knows when he wants something! In the end, we got some other things. It's a surprise Dad!

I'm refereeing tomorrow night aswell, as I do every other Thursday, so that will give me more money to take with me for the weekend ahead, although it's most likely to go on fuel. For the car that is. Not me. There is a real possibility I'm going to die from alcohol poisoning... oh well!

What else? Not a lot really. Like I say, nothing is happening. Just waiting... Such a long wait!

Cya x

Freeze Your Nuts Off For The Lads!

Tonight, I went to watch the FA Cup 1st Round Replay match between MK Dons and Stevenage with mini-carpo, and I have to admit 2 things.

1) It was of arctic proportions out there. By the full-time whistle, my feet felt like they had had a general anaesthetic put into them. And the match wasn't even finished yet!

and 2) Stadium:MK is the worst place on Earth.

You see, MK Dons have, "invested in the future", by building a huge stadium in time for their seemingly "inevitable" plight to the big time, but at the moment they're not the best of teams and seeing as it was a freezing Tuesday night, not many people turned out to watch The Dons lose on penalties to a defiant Stevenage side, which made the atmosphere very dull indeed. The match wasn't much cop either, with a final score of 1-1 after extra time, (thanks to a 95th minute equaliser from Stevenage!), and then finally going down 7-6 in the penalty shoot out.

That part was good entertainment, just would of been better if I wasn't incapsulated by an ice cube!

Not a lot else to update you on. Just preparing myself for the carnage of the weekend. Father Mitten's birthday first though and I'm on the hunt for a Roberto Mancini style manager's coat, that doesn't cost £2,000.

Tomorrow holds nothing in store, so boredom may well mean I bloggle something needless yet again.

Ciao x

This Is Too Good

I don't have anything to bloggle about, as I've already told you about last night's better performance and this morning's not so good one, but, this foggy morning, where the feeling is one of solitude and grumpiness, as it usually is on a Monday, I just have one thing to say...

...

GET IN THERE MY SON!!

I'm Free!

Bye :D x

Towards Freedom

Tonight was much better. This afternoon however, was awful. Thanks to my mammoth sleep on Friday afternoon into Friday night, I didn't feel tired at all and I could not sleep to save my life. I only got a few hours and I felt incredibly rough and jaded. My calls to fellow people to ask to cover my shift proved fruitless so I had little choice but to make the 5-minute voyage, listening to Radio 1's terrible Saturday night music, to what I call, "hell", with this thought in my mind:

"If I have another night like yesterday's, this is my last ever shift"

God obviously heard my words because he made it much easier for me, (I've suddenly gone all religious?), even if there was a lot of work to do and a lot of strange situations, it was much better and I went home, after finishing the papers off in quick time, leaving The Wall at the tills because the morning staff hadn't turned up... Again...

These days though, if I have a good night at work, the football later in the morning turns out to be a shambles. Crap night at work equals good morning's football. It's how it works.

This morning was all over the shop. No one wanted to be there, and we were practically bullied off the park by the most aggressive .... no.... 2nd, most aggressive team I've ever come up against. (Remember Harpur Sunday?)

Their striker was the most annoying per.... no... again.... He isn't the most annoying person I've come across, (don't get me started!), but he was certainly extremely childish for a man of mid-30s, complaining that he was getting elbowed and then 2 minutes later elbowing me in the ribs, which went un-noticed by the referee. He was ALWAYS complaining and was always in my ear, almost like a slip fielder to a batsman in cricket, just a little more... physical. I wasn't enjoying it, and clearly neither was the rest of the team.

The first half, we were being physically assaulted by a team who tried their damnest to knock us out of the match. Too many of them thought they were David Haye and they were very good at doing it out of the attention of the referee. We weren't allowed to play our usual game, and because of this, we were out of sorts and went into the interval 2-0 down. 2 good finishes from 2 poor pieces of defending.

The 2nd half was a bit better until our centre-mid had a moment of madness. The same striker who had spent all of the first half annoying me, had moved targets, and although the temptation for me to headbutt him was great, I never get too worked up to actually do it... A straight red, deservedly so, and we were in trouble. Down to 10 men on the hour mark, but we fought bravely before conceding a 3rd. I wasn't happy with that, my positioning from the cross was poor and I maybe should have done a lot better after making a couple of very good saves to keep us at 2-0. We got a late consolation, but it was all in vain, going down 3-1.

It's days like this I just dislike football. I don't want to turn up if people aren't going to put the effort in, especially when they've had the opportunity to get ready for it, and I have to work. They have the opportunity to have a decent night's rest to be 100% for the game, but choose instead to go out on the town and complain when no one can be bothered on a Sunday morning. It's ALWAYS the same, but it is the true curse of Sunday league football.

I'm glad I'm not playing next week, I couldn't care less if we win, draw or lose, as usual, but I am just looking forward to having a very expensive party. I have money, and a lot of it, and I intend to go absolutely mental. I'm not fussed what the financial reprocussions are either. I'm going up to Manchester to have a good time, and I really do deserve it after events of late.

Just one more night to endure, hopefully an easy, if long, Sunday night, and then I can scream aloud the word, "FREEDOM!". It won't be straight forward though will it...

It never is...

Ciao x

Ultimatum

I've never felt so angry. I've never felt my blood physically boil inside me like I did tonight. Not ever have I hated a man so much, that I nearly swerved to hit him in my car as I drove home and he walked. Seriously, if I hadn't of been so sensible, he would now be dead and I would be locked up. But at least I'd be rid of the one man who I cannot stand to be around any longer.

You all know who it is. It's the blood-curdlingly annoying, snail-like slow, epileptic son of an asshole, I call The Wall. I have always held back of what I really hate about him in this blog, because I don't want to work myself up too much, but this morning, I can't possibly be more worked up after the night I have just experienced.

I'll start from the beginning of the night. 10pm, I was already in a bad mood. I had had too much sleep, (if that's possible), as I was knackered from the night before, so collapsed when I got home and woke up a whole 14 and a half hours later... I know, pure laziness. I figured I might be wide awake for the whole night, but it worked the complete opposite. I was so lethargic, felt so so tired and the night was long. So, 10pm, I was ready, the PM staff were ready to go but The Wall was nowhere to be seen. He usually cuts it fine, making excuses in the only way The Wall knows how, but today he was plain late. 15 minutes in fact, before he limped in, before... get this ... blaming me for his lateness.

I could not believe what I was hearing. Apparently, I was supposed to pick him up, which is absolute bullshit and I was the reason he had to walk. I would never offer him a lift, ever. I didn't mind he was late, it happens sometimes, I, along with the rest of the staff, would get over 15 minutes of lateness. However, to have the audacity to blame me for his disorganisation and crap timing is a step too far, and the others knew it aswell. I said, "Well that's clearly a lie", and he got a bollocking for being late, (which he might not have done had he kept his lying mouth shut), and was told to get on tills immediately.

I hate people lying to get me in trouble. I hated it when I was a school child, aged 8, being kept in detention for something I hadn't done, and I hate it just as much 11 years on in the world of work. I cannot, and will not, stand it, and I made my feelings known tonight as the PM manager did his bit. He agreed wholeheartedly with me, and The Wall's damaged reputation has taken another hit amongst the already impatient management.

This, however, is just the tip of the iceberg. The routine for the night, means I usually go and re-stock the chillers straight away to give me enough chance to complete everything before the papers come at 5am. On a Friday night, I would usually be needed twice on tills as the queues get a bit hot to handle. The maximum amount of times I have ever been needed is 4, and OK, it happens. Tonight? I was called to the tills a staggering 11 times, and most of these were not to serve customers. 3 times I was called to the tills to be asked to come round and serve free coffee to The Police. The first time I was asked, I said, "No, they can wait, I've got a lot to do". Did he get the message? No. Two more times he rang the bell and asked, and by the third time, I had lost the will and said:

"If you ring me once more to ask me this, I'm going to come round, make their coffee, make one extra and chuck it in your face, Understood?"

... I was furious. How can a man not get the message? The Police get FREE coffee. So they can bloody well wait for it. 3 more times, he rang the bell simply to ask if I could come round and get him some change out of the safe, which is right next to him and which he had the key for, and 1 time he rang the bell to ask me if I could make some coffee for HIM. I couldn't believe it, and simply said, "f*** off!" before walking back to my tasks, with the hyena-like laugh of The Wall loud in my ears. He has to do it on purpose. He has to.

I wasn't happy by this point. I was tired, annoyed at being blamed for his useless punctuality and frustrated at being summoned for the most pointless of things.

By the time I'd finished re-stocking the ludicrous amount of green trays for the chiller, it was 12:15am. Time to move on to returning the days unsold papers. A simple task on Fridays as I don't have to worry about returning the trays full of supplements aswell. This was OK. The Wall, despite talking to me which eventually turned into mumbling to himself as he learnt I was completely blanking him, just got on with serving customers and left me be. The way it should be.

Then it came on to the main task of the night. The bakery. The one bit that The Wall can't do because of his condition. Lately, because of his knee, he sits behind the tills, serving the customers, (which by this stage are restricted to taxi drivers and drunks), while I sift through the large amounts of baking and cooking to do for the morning. However, completely against the routine of the last few weeks, The Wall decides he's going to take it upon himself to go and re-stock the chillers. Something I have already done, and doesn't need to be done again. Upon being told this information, he simply mumbled something, and waltzed off. HOW CAN HE BE THIS STUPID?!! I told him a good few times that it didn't need to be done and even raised my voice to tell him he was being a prick, but to no avail. Off he went.

So, I was running backwards and forwards between baking and serving customers while The Wall did a job that had already been done, thus wasting valuable time which would come back to haunt come 6am. I'll get to that bit.

I had given up by this point. I just wanted to go home. He spent the next 2 hours re-stocking absolutely nothing, because I had done it all a couple of hours previously, and then complained when he said he didn't have enough time to re-stock the crisps and sweets. I stayed silent, scared that I would say something I would regret, and left him to try and do as much as possible. When it came to 5am, the papers arrived. Great! They're here early! Maybe, I can get out on time for once? Again, no. The Wall had other ideas and decided he was going to vanish for 20 minutes for no apparent reason, leaving me to finish off what little Bakery needed to be done and then manning the tills, watching the pile of papers wistfully, wishing I could be out there getting them done. After about 20 minutes, I had had enough and went out the back to look for him. I didn't care if customers came in and nicked half the stock, I just wanted to go home.

What welcomed me, was a fully grown man in the foetal position, shouting obscenities and whispering obscenities in equal quantities. Great. Exactly what I needed. One of the legendary fits, which meant I couldn't go out and do the papers until the manager turned up at 5:45.. And it's not as if I could get away with leaving half of them incomplete as it was The Goddess of All Evil. Luckily, I managed to get them completed by 6:35am, in which I went back into the office, dripping in sweat and my back in extreme pain, thanks to the large amount of hauling about this particular chore requires, only to see The Wall sitting in a chair looking rather shaken. I didn't care.

Now, what came next isn't for the faint-hearted.

The Goddess Of All Evil was looking as if she was in a bad mood. Not good. I could tell something was about to happen and, it wasn't a song and a dance. Time for some transcript...

G.O.A.E - "Tahir tells me that you were supposed to re-stock the crisps and sweets, is this correct?"

Me: "Well, no... I have to do the bakery, the chillers and the newspapers, I don't have time to do any of that, as I've said before.

G.O.A.E - "Well, they look shit and Tahir says you were doing them, so why are they not done?"

Me: "This is ridiculous. How many times do I have to say it? I cannot do all of the tasks, I do not have the time. He did them, and he didn't leave himself enough time because he insisted on doing the chiller, even though I had already done it!"

G.O.A.E - "This isn't good enough, the Territory Manager is coming in today, he can't see it like that"

Me: "Then bollock him for it, because I've had enough of being blamed for him being useless."

I stood up for myself and rightly so. I am fed up of being blamed for The Wall being rubbish at his job. Fed up of The Wall lying out of his back teeth to avoid facing the consequences of his laziness and fed up of the management defending a man they say they dislike and a man who puts me, himself, (not that I give a flying pig's shit about him), and the customers in danger time and time again by having epileptic fits in the middle of the night. It is not fair on me, it is not fair on the customers and it is highly dangerous at that time of day.

And to have the absolute cheek to try and palm off his laziness and incapability to do the job, on me, is incredibly unfair and I am not going to take much more of this.

Therefore, an ultimatum. If I have to experience another night like this, another situation in which I get bollocked for his uselessness after he blames me, or another one of his stupid fits which puts me, the store, or it's customers in danger, then it's either he goes...

Or I do.

I don't care anymore that I may well end up without a job. I don't care anymore that I may well end up where I was 8 months ago, with the parents telling me I'm useless and to go out and get a job and I don't care if the management try and persuade me otherwise. My patience has been exhausted to the absolute limit, and even me, who I feel has an incredibly high tolerance level, cannot take anymore of this terrible excuse for a human being.

Have a good day. And a good weekend.

A Bag Full Of Chocolate

I can't remember if I've mentioned this before, but a few months back, we had some sort of competition at BP. A competition between all the stores in the district, (I believe this covers about 70 miles, from North London up to Coventry-ish), when a new Twix bar was introduced. Twix Fino. It all seems a bit childish, but the incentive for the winner was quite a big one, especially with Christmas only just round the corner, scarily!

The store that managed to sell the most in a month, would win £100 worth of vouchers. Vouchers for what exactly remained, "a mystery". Our store manager went beserk, watching over our shoulder at every given opportunity to make sure we were ramming these new chocolate bars down people's throats. He even said he sold a few to customers who weren't looking, although that seems like absolute ... bull. Anyway. It was big. In the first week, we sold so many that we were actually first in the whole country and by the final week we were 4th in the country, apparently, "not good enough" for our perfectionist manager of the time. Still, by the end of the month, we had scraped victory in our district and we were all excited at the prospect of £100.

Mother Mitten said I could pay a month's car insurance instalment with these vouchers, which means more money for this month to.... erm... spend wisely. However, these vouchers just never materialised. For weeks, our managers kept badgering the district people about it and they never heard a whisper back, until today.

When I turned up to work tonight, in a fairly desparaging mood seeing as it's the beginning of my working week, (just this week Mitten...), I walked into the office to find a whole bundle of plastic bags full to the brim with chocolate, each with a little nametag on. I asked, "What the hell are they?" and the duty manager, The Goddess Of All Evil, replied with, "That's our £100."

You have got to be kidding me...

I am a self-confessed chocoholic. I eat way too much of the stuff and only God knows why I am not the size of Hagrid by eating so much, but there was literally £100 worth of chocolate in that bag. For each of us. Absolute insanity. One of the other duty managers, Cool Will, had bought loads of the bars on his shifts when the incentive was up and running, just so he could get his hands on £100, not a shed load of chocolate. Wow. Even I, the Choc Monster, do not know what to do with it all.

Well... eat it I suppose, but the amount there is just staggering. And what's more, Mother Mitten said I couldn't pay her in chocolate... bad times!

Still, at least we got SOMETHING for our troubles and even if I am only 1 shift out of 5 down at the petrol station for the week, I'll have plenty of fuel to keep going on!

.... Sorry....

It is laughable, and seeing as I'm in a funny mood, I'll let you know that I am actually very excited about next week's trek to see Beddoe in MancLand. It's been a long time since I can let my very short hair down, and I am in much need to get wasted, (or Mittoed, as its now known!) I am however, unable to attend the crimbo party on the 18th Dec, due to unforeseen circumstances. Never mind...

Ha! I've just looked through this huge bag again, and found a few Twix Fino's in there. After we sold over 1,500 bars, they just had to take the piss some more didn't they!

Cheerio x


"At the 11th hour of this day, we will all remember our fallen heroes, who fought for this country, and gave their lives for our freedom. Lest We Forget."

3 Sides Is A Triangle, What's 2?

Love can frazzle people's brains like nothing else can. Love can change a man from the most hardened hard man into a depleted, sobbing wreck. It's complicated when there's 2 people, more so when there's 3, but things sometimes just get over complicated. Sometimes things are just not meant to be. Sometimes things are just not worth the effort.

This girl I like, is being complicated. It's the same girl I mentioned a couple of weeks ago and have made a few brief references to, and I will admit, that despite my .... not hatred, but dislike, for relationships, this girl has changed me. Even if our contact has been limited. I can't describe it. I can't even begin to, so I won't try. For the first time in my rubbish life amongst relationships, I had the bottle to tell her straight up how I felt, only to be shoved back amongst the dirt. The cruelty of lust.

It's not as if I've lost all hope. She didn't say she felt the same, but she didn't say otherwise, but I'm not holding out much hope. And what exactly is going to happen if, by some miracle of Jesus, something did happen? Reckon I'd hold it together?

Exactly.

My ultimate fear, despite telling others to not "fret so much about these things", (Hey Mr.B?), I cannot help myself when it comes to my own situation. It's easy telling others not to worry about it, because it's not you worrying about it. When it's you, it's different. Very different.

I've never felt like this before. When I originally liked BC, it felt ... comfortable. It felt right and it felt like a new phase. This one is something I want just as much, but I feel more confident about it. Well... I did. Until this afternoon happened. Now I've lost all the confidence I have built up over months, because that's how bad I am at this. Months are needed for me to regain even the slightest bit of confidence in the concept of relationships. Right now, that confidence is on a very solid 0%..

I feel sad. Am I being stupid? I don't know. Let's not speak anymore about it.

On to a more, positive subject. Parties. My job means I don't get the opportunity to do what 19-year olds do, just get pissed. A few opportunities coming up though, starting with the trek to Manchester on the 19th November, which, I promise you Mr.B, I will take full advantage of in more ways than one! (wink, wink). 2nd one being a Christmas party I have miraculously managed to book a night off for, and 3rd the work do, which has been rearranged for mid-December. Seeing as I'm the youngest, I'll be the target to get as wasted as possible, so it'll be fun trying to hoard them off! The guys at BP, (apart from the obvious) are really a good laugh, so I am really looking forward to that. The Wall isn't making an appearance at all, thank Christ, because I think someone "forgot" to invite him.... Never mind, hey!

So, despite the troubles at the moment, I have a lot to look forward to. I must tell myself to keep positive as the cold Winter gets the grip over the nation.

No depression for Mitten.

Ciao x

A Lake Of Wine

Sunday nights are never any good. They're incredibly dull, empty and slow and with only The Wall for company, I knew it was going to be long night.

And it's not as if I got much sleep either. This morning's football, in which you will get a full and intriguing report on in a moment, (if you're interested?), hampers my sleep a lot so I only got a few hours before I had to haul myself out of bed at the 16th time of asking and drive off to the slowest 8 hours of all eternity.

It didn't really turn out that way though... I was way ahead of schedule when it came to 11pm, which means locking the alcohol away to stop binge drinking, apparently. For some ridiculous reason that I can't fathom, I have a strange routine as to how I do this. I close the beer first, then close the spirits, cover the lager with some stupid black cover thing and then wheel in the cases of wine. All was going well, until the wheeling..

I was by the door into the stock room. I typed in the code, and wheeled them inside but unfortunately for me wheeled it a bit too... vigorously. In what felt like slow-motion, I felt the whole thing fall over and heard the 'SMASH' of numerous bottles collide with the very hard floor. Oh god no... 20+ bottles of wine had smashed everywhere and within seconds, the warehouse had turned into a lake of wine with bits of floating glass on top. I had no choice but to tell The Wall what had happened, and as he mocked in his stupid childish ways, I spent the best part of 90 minutes cleaning and mopping it up. By the end of that 90 minutes, in which the floor was noticeably cleaner, I had probably become drunk off the fumes. The smell was incredible, and seeing as I detested the smell of wine before this incident, it didn't help I had to mop up 20 litres of the stuff.

It was horrible, and what's more, it put me desperately behind schedule. I even worked through my break to try and make up time. Luckily for me, it was Legend Alex as the manager in the morning, instead of The Goddess of All Evil, and he said, in his own relaxed ways, "Accidents happen". Phew! I can't help but still feel ill though.. The best way I can describe it is having a mild hangover. Seriously, was that bad.

All this after another 90 minutes of very different activity. I admitted yesterday morning that I, once again, just wasn't up for another match of high fuelled intensity but hoped the adrenaline would kick in in time for kick off. I also remember saying I had a premonition that I was going to be awful?

Well, I am about as good as the worst psychic in the world, because, if I say so myself, I was anything but! Match report time. Finish reading here if you're not bothered! (Bye to all the boring ones!)

The pitch we were playing on was incredibly wet and had a wicked slope from right to left, and amazingly changed from left to right as we swapped halves! We were playing a team fighting in the top 3 with us, so we knew it was going to be a challenge. The game started off fairly scrappy, with neither team getting a foothold of the game. About 20 minutes in however, their striker latched on to the end of a through ball and calmly slotted past me into the bottom corner. 1-0 down, but a long way to go. They then had a penalty shout turned down, (rather unluckily I thought!), before we went up the other end and got a penalty of our own. The complaints from the other team were... audible... but it didn't put our centre forward off who nonchalently powered the ball home from 12 yards to make it 1-1 going into the interval.

Assistant Manager Hughie, (remember, Father Mitten is on crutches and can hardly walk), gave an all-inspiring team talk and we came out fighting in the second half. We took the lead on the hour mark, when the opposition goalkeeper did his best impression of Massimo Taibi, (YouTube it), and we were deservedly ahead, and our striker, Andy, had 2 goals. We defended stoutly, and I made a couple of smart saves to my left from shots on the edge of the area, before our right back conceded a needless penalty.

Now. There is a back story to this. I have a history of saving penalties against this side. Last year, I saved three in the league games then went on to save 3 more in the cup semi-final. I was the hero then, and I'm happy to say, the trend kept it's course as I saved this one! The same striker who had scored in the first half, smashed it fairly hard to the right hand side and I managed to palm it wide with a strong right hand. I was slapped on the back by delighted team mates and our lead was held. I have now saved 6 of the last 7 penalties I have faced from that opposition. What a stat that is!

A few minutes later, we extended our lead thanks to an absolute crackerjack from our left-mid, Curtis. We lost concentration however, and they managed to grab a goal back, albeit a little fortuitously. A shot from 10 yards out, in which I could only tip on to the post, but the spin on the ball allowed it to zip across the line, hit the other post, and dribble in. 3-2.

They pushed forward, I made a couple more good saves, including a tip round the post from a thunderbolt about 25 yards out, and then we counter attacked and allowed Andy to complete his hat-trick with a confident finish from 6 yards. It finished 4-2 and a huge away win for us, seeing as our other top 3 rival also lost. A good day for MAFC, and in particular, a good morning's work for me!

Shame about the night's work though..

Cya x

Mistakes Are Only Human

I'm trying not to be pessimistic this morning. I'm in, and have been, in a very reflective mood recently and tonight was no different as I thought about what I had done right and what I had done wrong since I left school.

Well, I started at school, where the first and maybe, biggest, mistake was not to put 100% into my studies. I understand and remember rather unhappily, that it was a very tough time for me then and maybe looking back on it, there was little I could do. You make think different, but unless you have felt what I have felt, you are in no place to comment.

Then was the matter of university. I had screwed up my first application with consumate ease and fell way short of my target and needed to find some sort of work to have a life and not become a 'NEET', (google it!). I looked back on my time at my first job, and despite the ugly end I had there, (incidentally, I have added a very important sentence to one of my first ever posts. See if you can find it!). Working at SmartMove, being highly unexperienced not just in the world of property, but work in itself, was a big jump for me. I found it extremely tough and maybe that was the reason I didn't last very long. (Go back in the blog, and find it.)

I think my biggest mistake was not to apply for university this year. I knew I could apply for a foundation course in Sports Coaching, but something was stopping me and before I knew it, it was all too late. Another year working with The Wall at BP. But that's not such a bad thing. Work experience is vital I think to build a career and people who have gone to university with little or no work experience, I think, will struggle when they come out. And apart from the Wall, everyone at BP is a laugh and it's good fun and lots of banter around when they're around. I look forward massively to the Crimbo Do, and I hope they don't organise it for the weekend I go to Manchester!

Back to the present time, and I am very tired this morning. I woke up a fair few hours earlier than I usually do yesterday thanks to the unexpected early return of Father Mitten from his op in London! He's a crock now, he won't mind me saying, but it's good to have him home! But of course, I have been awake for that extra few hours now and after another tough night, climaxed by another round of Mitten vs Weekend Papers, I am truly knackered. Football this morning, in the cold weather, isn't a great prospect, but I hope the adrenaline kicks in as usual when we get going and I get through it without too much trouble.

I have just had a terrible premonition that I'm going to have a shocker today...

Contemplation

As I sit here, listening to a bit of Madness on this sunny but chilly Saturday morning, I am contemplating many things in my head. Things I have been thinking all night really, but haven't really had a chance to think over properly, due to the busy night we had.

I say, "many things", but I think it's just two things. One of them is university. University is something I thought I was adament that I had to go for in order to have an opportunity at some sort of a life, but the last couple of weeks have brought up subjects that have made me think twice about it. I told myself I wouldn't change my mind this time, but my head is reverting back to the old ways of thinking...

There are a few factors as to why I may be having a slight change of heart. One of them is the hike in tuition fees. £9,000 per year for a course that I'm not too certain will provide me with the huge choice in job opportunities that some may expect, is a very large amount. I personally think it's insane for students to pay such an amount, but times are hard and everyone has to make sacrifices I suppose. Another thing is the organisation needed at university. I'm not Mr.Organisational when it comes to things like finance and paperwork and, whilst having lunch with Pedantic Kettle, (yeah, ok, it's GREENWICH Mean Time, not GENERAL!), and Mother Kettle, he was talking about the 100-page documents and the frustration and that sort of thing really rubs me up the wrong way.. Not Kettle, but just the organisation of it all. Thirdly, Finally, and probably most importantly however, is the actual course. The studying. The deadlines. The essays, the revision. No one likes it, but I really, really, really struggle when it comes to it, and I'm honestly scared that I'll struggle in the most difficult of education environments.

And, I'll be honest some more, I thought the winter months were going to be incredibly difficult at work and I thought I may revert back to the old me slightly, but, I don't say this lightly, I'm fairly content at work at the moment. I know exactly what I'm doing and although I work with the annoying people I do at night, the job itself just flies by and I'm happy I get a good amount of money to work with every month. I enjoy having a car and having the freedom to buy things on a whim. I fear I may have to get out of a lot of habits if I go to university, and, not being the most strong-willed person in the world, the fear of failing is starting to play on my mind.

Ultimately, I'm scared of change. I hate the Conservatives politically, but I'm incredibly conservative when it comes to change in lifestyle and routine. The prospects of my life if I don't go to university are fairly grim, but they may not be so much better if I go and come out of university with £50k+ debts..

And what use is life when your constantly paying back debts?

I told myself I was never going to even question my decision this year, but I fear I may have gone beyond that already. At the moment, my mind is just, JUST, in favour of going. But my doubts are hugely greater than they were 6 weeks ago... I am just too scared about it.

The second thing I was thinking about was my back. Now, you may think it's slightly random, but I've had a week surrounded by injury, operations and physical pain and this morning, whilist doing the horrible weekend papers Part 1, I was greeted with a cynical pain in my lower back. I may have mentioned before that Father Mitten suffers from Osteo-Arthritis, and it's hereditary, which means I may get it. The pessimistic side of me reckons I may already be feeling the symptoms, but the optimistic side thinks its just Rupert Murdoch commissioning too many supplements for his newspapers. But it's not the best thing to happen whilst hauling around countless papers.

On the plus side though, I have declared November, "party month", as I go to Beddoe Land on the 21st and then the Crimbo do the week after, which means a fair bit of drinking and having a laugh, which, at the moment, I could well do with!

If I went to university, I suppose it would be, "party year, with a few desperate revision sessions thrown in". The good, the bad and the downright ugly.

Ciao x

Bye x

Gambling Streak

I noticed I had more money in my bank account than I should have today, so I decided to go mad and have a little gamble on a few things. I have my 5 lucky dips for the EuroMillions draw tomorrow, in which I am 100% guaranteed to win the jackpot, in my dreams. I also went into town simply to waste a few pound coins on a few slot machines and get absolutely nothing in return.

The casino/arcade/money waster I chose was called 'Reels' and it very much resembled a place where seasoned gambler's go and throw away their wages on old fashioned slots. The sole Asian man working there gives you a scratchard, where you always win £2, and ALWAYS ends up being put in the machine by the man himself. He doesn't even ask if you want it... He puts it in the slots. He also gave me free coffee, raffle tickets for some draw that doesn't exist and some slip for another draw that literally takes place in Las Vegas in ... 4 hours time. I mean, why? Just, why?

I was quickly out of there as it dawned on me that I might aswell be standing there giving this man my money, so I went somewhere else, which ended up me buying a shed load of scratchcards. Now, I'm not usually a scratchcard man, but when I bought 3 £2 ones, won £10 and then bought 2 £5 ones in which I won my money back and then bought 2 more in which I won £11 in total before blowing it all on non-winners, it felt almost liberating! I wasn't really fussed that I wasn't winning, so I bought one more, got my money back and walked away. I ended up about £15 down, but the adrenaline of gambling was re-kindled in me once more!

The last couple of days have been tough. Father Mitten is currently residing in Stanmore Hospital and the house feels incredibly empty without him. I have been "advised" by Mother Mitten to not visit him tomorrow, seeing as I've got to work in the evening and I got an unusually emotional text from Father Mitten, which made me cry a little... It's a tough time for him at the moment, and I, along with everyone else, just want him home. He is in a ward, apparently, with some Muslim who spends all night chanting the Koran, which is just plain ridiculous. I'm going to be racist and say this guy is a complete moron for being so religious. Dad is enough pain at the moment, without him ruining his nights.

There's loads of other things going on aswell though. Grandma's bungalow is being sold, sparking a few arguments and tears about various things, my university application has stalled in the wake of the stupid hike in fees, work is being as stupid as ever with The Wall's incredulous laziness and sheer existence, I fear I may be falling in love and I'm not getting any sleep. Wait, did I just say, "I may be falling in love"?

No, I'm not. Forget I ever said that.

Moving on. I was glad to be refereeing again tonight. In the Northants Senior Youth League, (Under 18's practically) and it was a welcome distraction from the hardships of recent days. I found the whole match, pre-match and post-match, incredibly enjoyable. I think because I don't get to do it very often these days, I can enjoy the novelty and enjoy the occasion a bit more. Because of this, my performance is greatly improved and to get a big compliment from a former Level 3 referee, ("You're the best assistant I've worked with in a long time"), was fantastic!

I was spot on, if I say so myself. Every decision was perfect, with the perfect technique and the communication between me and the man in the middle was awesome. It's always more enjoyable when you get it right, and even more enjoyable when you prove yourself wrong and go out and perform. Before the match, I had a strange feeling it was going to be rubbish, but I was very wrong!

Now though, after picking Sister Mitten up from the train station, I need to stay awake as I am back at work tomorrow. The horrible part of the 4 days off, but I have to admit, it's been the most eventful 4 days off I've had in a long time.

Cya x

Into The Grogginess

Today has been one of early starts, grumpy people and groggy people as the day had arrived of Father Mitten's absence for a while.

He needs a desperate spine/hip operation, (not really certain where), but seeing as he has spent most of the past few years in complete pain, not being able to walk properly and not being able to get up from the simplest of chairs, he needed this op.

We woke up very, very early this morning, (5am to be precise), to drive to the hospital in Middlesex. I was given the duty of chauffeur and my Dad was the back-seat driver. I hate them... Still, it was only an hour's drive and we were there by 6.30, just as the Sun was coming up. We saw him in inside and drove home again, where I practically collapsed on my bed. The lack of sleep in the past few days have really taken it's toll.

The place was exceptionally cold and dingy and it didn't really feel like a National Ortheopeadic Hopsital, (apologies for probable spelling mistakes), but none the less we left him in the hands of the docs and went on our way. I've just woken up from my, "few hours nap", that sort of turned into a full blown sleep session to a phone call from an incredibly groggy Father, drugged up to the nose on morphine, still in a lot of pain despite the operation being completed, and for some reason I feel his grogginess.. It's like a Father and Son telepathy! It's incredibly strange.

Maybe it's because I've just woken up from one of the strangest and most vivid dreams I've had in a long while. I dreamt I was on Mock The Week, (don't laugh), where I was very funny and got a lot of laughs! Someone told me it was definitely a dream then, seeing as I was "funny", which was a comment I kind of walked in to!

Not a lot else to update you on I'm afraid. I did have a few ideas I was going to put in here, but I have literally forgotten them! Maybe it's the grogginess..

Ciao x

Beaten By The Better Team

It's been a long old day today. Work on the Sunday night was longer than expected, (not 12 hours, but just felt longer!) and a change in schedule due to extreme tiredness means that for once, I am awake on a Monday evening, albeit nearly falling asleep again.

Football on Sunday was good for once. For the first time in a couple of weeks, we had a real test on our hands against a team from Luton. St.John's they were called and before kick-off, we found out they were in fact the County Cup's losing finalists last season. A huge test for the up and coming Mowsbury Athletic. This next passage is pretty much a match report, so if you have no interest in my football career, please skip to the bit entitled, "The Wall is A Bastard". Thanks.

Conditions were awful. It was peeing it down at a rate usually seen in the rainy season in Vietnam. We started incredibly tentatively. St.John's were the much better team for the first 20 minutes. They went 1-0 up about 10 minutes in thanks to a cross-come-shot that was inadvertatantly deflected into my top corner by our left back. Not much you can do as a goalkeeper when the ball is pinballing around.. Still, a long way to go and I put it out of my head as soon as possible. Minutes later however, they were through on goal again, and I am happy to report that I made a very good one-on-one save to keep the score at 1-0. From the resulting corner, I made a very good claim and suddenly felt very confident amongst our team of struggling starters. Not long after though, they were through again and only a poor finish from their striker kept us from the worst start possible. Time after time they were carving us open like a Christmas Turkey, with one and two touch football. We were chasing shadows.

We had our chances. We put a couple wide and a volley from our left midfielder grazed the bar after a delicious cross, but it just wasn't happening. We went into the half-time break 1-0 down, but certainly not out.

In the 2nd half, we had a bit of a re-shuffle and played much better. Creating chances but lacking quality in the final third, (I sound like Harry Redknapp!), and then they scored again. A decent cross from the left hand side across the 6-yard box and a simple tap-in for their striker. I could do little about it. After that, our heads went down and we let them control the game. We kept them at bay until the end, where they scored two more breakaway goals while we pushed forward looking for a glimmer of hope.

So, we lost 4-0, but I enjoyed yesterday's game more than the rest of the games we've already had this season put together. My performance was good, making a few saves, (one for the Sky Sports cameras!) and despite conceding 4, and I was happy I was kept busy, and more importantly, awake, but just a shame about the final result. They were just too good..

We can concentrate on the league now. Anyway...

The Wall is a bastard. (Told you!) That Sunday night at work he literally sat in his chair for 8 hours, blaming his dislocated knee and now sprained ankle for being useless and dictating what should be done and should not be done. The rumours that I may be transferred to day shifts in exchange for someone who isn't doing so well, cannot be true enough in my mind. I want them to be true anyway! We've got the Crimbo Do coming up aswell... which will be ... interesting.

As for the issue with that girl from last Friday? After many probing texts from her, I have decided that I'm not going there. End.

I hope you all have a good week. I'm certainly looking forward to tomorrow anyway. As I dust off the old golf bats and go and have a good whack around Mowsbury GC with The Angry One and Marrrrrrio! We're going to be crap...

Cya x