A few months ago, at the end of the domestic league football season, I attended the final home game of the 2011-2012 season at Fratton Park, home of Portsmouth FC, then of the Championship division (2nd div) but now of Division 1 (3rd div) because they lost and were relegated before my very eyes. I saw it with several of my school-friends because tickets were a quid for a kid, bring a pet adult for £10. It's the same price today so I invited the Piddlers and 2 of them are coming with us!
In other news, my lottery ticket didn't win. On the other hand, Buds' one and the one he did with Official Blog Followers Fiona and Corinne at his work did - both got £3.40. So that money has been reinvested in the next draw.
 |
| Nothing says you're going like a ticket in your hand |
I chose the numbers, handed over the money and collected the ticket myself - all totally illegal of course as I'm under 16. I did this on our normal Saturday morning walk where we met the woolly trees. There are many strange people in Portsmouth (and we should know, for we are 2 of them) some of whom knit woolly scarves for trees and lamp-posts. It's harmless, I guess.....
Then, after a load of TV, Beth and Ben arrived. We Legoed instantly while the adults drank tea (high living) and then we headed off to the football stadium.
The stadium was not full. We estimate 5 or 6 thousand supporters were with us, and at the away fans end, about 30 - 1 busload. They were quiet for the whole game as we started brightly and scored twice in the first 20 minutes! Oh how we cheered and jumped up and down, once we'd stopped burbling to each other and realised we'd scored. Due to the jiggling-about that we do, Ben did rather crunch his nuts upon the flip-up seat, we tried not to laugh. The rest of the first half deteriorated into ping-pong and arguments.
At half time we explored the North Stand. The entire top deck was empty so we sat in as many seats as possible, ran up and down and were eventually told off by one of the few security guards the club could afford and so descended right to the very front to get free sweetie handouts from Nelson the mascot and his helper-girlies. We did quite a lot of nipple-flashing as well. 
The second half started brightly, as before, and we netted yet again against the side that's supposed to be much better than us. All the way through, a 6 or 7 year-old boy 3 rows below us kept on looking round, jealous of how much fun we were having. We laughed, played, quarkled and burbled and for brief periods, actually watched the match. The parents were worried about possible bad language but we actually detected none. Eventually it finished 3-0 in our favour and we trooped home (I got a twisted ear for running off) and played Lego and drawing and performed 3 ecstatic news broadcast performances about the Olympics and alien landings from the safety of a pile of chairs, as you do.
Bath fizzer night....I chose Vivaldi 4 seasons. After the slippery event, I slipped over and hit my patella against the wall, but lived to tell the tale.
These are the bath fizzers from which I was to make my choice. For the roses, you're supposed to tear the petals off and cast them wantonly upon the surface where they slowly dissolve into pink snot (Bridge over bubbled water). This pink selection should not be taken as an indication that I'm a girl. It is a sad indictment on the fizzer technology of today that I cannot simply purchase a more manly fizzer such as a football, hand grenade or soot-blackened assault knife with the end dipped in red. And instead of roses and lavender, perhaps a more virile aroma such as beer, cordite and WD40? Just saying.
And Ben hurt his nuts on the seat!
ReplyDelete