I'm very much out and about this weekend. A. is away in Wales with her daughter and I am Home Alone. In fact, my feet will hardly touch the ground. Around mid-morning I'll be off to York to watch the City play Fleetwood, top of the table and undefeated in 26 games going back to mid-October, an amazing sequence which has seen them run away with the automatic promotion spot. We'll see what my team can do about that - although after the midweek defeat at Newport, who knows what frame of mind they will be in? Mind, I still remember Birimingham coming to York back in the late 80s or early 90s on the back of a 28-game unbeaten run. We destroyed them.
After the game I drive north to my brother's place in Rothbury, up in Northumberland. I've packed wellington boots a windproof jacket, an assortment of gardening tools, an axe, a bow-saw, etc etc. I'll be staying overnight and on Sunday tackling some heavy work in his garden. He's been plagued by a bad back recently, so I've volunteered to help him remove a number of overgrown shrubs. With luck a fire will be involved.
Monday, which is a public holiday here, I'm meeting up with an old schoolfriend to watch his team play at Hartlepool. John travels all over the country following Brentford. I have no idea why, but I find it admirable.
On the work front, Phil has got all the photographs slotted into place in The Red House on The Niobrara. He's doing a final proof-read - a heroic endeavour - and is talking about getting the book 'out there' next week. I am bracing myself for a spell of feverish activity in the twittersphere.
Okay.... I must prepare for York, grab some breakfast, and of course keep an ear cocked towards the radio, and commentary on the final day of England's Test match (that's cricket, in case it's not clear) in Sri Lanka. They're making very heavy weather of what ought to be a simple enough task. Tense stuff....
After the game I drive north to my brother's place in Rothbury, up in Northumberland. I've packed wellington boots a windproof jacket, an assortment of gardening tools, an axe, a bow-saw, etc etc. I'll be staying overnight and on Sunday tackling some heavy work in his garden. He's been plagued by a bad back recently, so I've volunteered to help him remove a number of overgrown shrubs. With luck a fire will be involved.
Monday, which is a public holiday here, I'm meeting up with an old schoolfriend to watch his team play at Hartlepool. John travels all over the country following Brentford. I have no idea why, but I find it admirable.
On the work front, Phil has got all the photographs slotted into place in The Red House on The Niobrara. He's doing a final proof-read - a heroic endeavour - and is talking about getting the book 'out there' next week. I am bracing myself for a spell of feverish activity in the twittersphere.
Okay.... I must prepare for York, grab some breakfast, and of course keep an ear cocked towards the radio, and commentary on the final day of England's Test match (that's cricket, in case it's not clear) in Sri Lanka. They're making very heavy weather of what ought to be a simple enough task. Tense stuff....
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