Stories to Tell

The last few days have been particularly interesting. Full of football, alcohol and stories. I genuinely thought on Wednesday night, that this week was going to be a week of distinct averageness. Oh, how wrong I was.

It all started on Thursday I suppose. After waking up at a stupid hour in the afternoon, I got a text from Slim asking me to fill in at late notice at a game in Olney, to which I duly accepted as I felt I needed the money. It turned out, although I only realised at half-time, that it was a title decider, and there was me, on the line, witnessing a probable 0-0 draw before Pagey goes and gives an 88th minute penalty, winning the title for Brackley Town. To be fair, there were no complaints. Stonewall. I was complimented by Pagey for being a "brilliant" assistant and a complimentary text from Slim the next day. Thursday doesn't end there though.

There were (very) late plans to head out to town on Thursday night, just like the good ol' days, as it's the bank holiday and all. I made it back at around half 10, making it to town around 20 minutes later and enjoyed a night of drinking, dancing and making out with Rob. Bless him. 7 attempts to get photographic evidence and a probable embarrassment from Facebook a few days from now... I don't care. I reckon Rob is getting more stick from it.. Maybe, people expect such behaviour from me? (A.k.a PRO-Waster!) Why we walked home though, I have no idea, as we left town at around 2.30am, and I eventually walked in my front door at gone 4am. Many 'For Sale' signs were re-located, and the Conservative presence in Bedford is no more, thanks to Mitten.
However, despite sleeping for a ridiculous amount once again, I had a cup final to assist on come Friday night. The East Beds Charity Cup Final, and I think the insanely concrete-like pitches caught up with me. During a particularly lengthy sprint down my line made of concrete, I felt a twinge in the ol' calf muscle, and come half-time, handed over assisting duties to 4th official, Brian. I became 4th official in the 2nd half, and made a right meal of dealing with one half of a troublesome dugout. No matter. I felt I needed to come off my game on Saturday, as I was due to be assessed and didn't want to ruin it for myself, however, I am due to leave for football in under 5 hours. I have been forced to play, despite being slightly injured, in a possible promotion decider, and consequently, my last ever game for MAFC. I might not make it.

I might not make it, because we had another late-planned party to attend. A house party, in the "new estate". There wasn't many people there, but there were plenty of guys, (who will go un-named) who wanted a piece of the, admittedly, rather good-looking hostess. I wasn't gonna go there. She is Man United, whereas I am FC United of Manchester. Let's be honest here. However, many "private conversations" went on, and much creeping around, whilst countless shots disappeared aswell as the bottle of vodka that disappeared alarmingly fast...

It was a good night though. A late appearance from the one and only Saggers only made it better. If there are stories to tell, the night is never bad. I won't go any further, before I let slip. And besides, I've gotta be awake in 4 hours...

No. I don't think so either.