How To Lose Money Bank of Scotland Style
If we thought Fred the Shred and his crew of comedians were a wunch of bankers, this story from the Herald in Scotland is up there with his worst.
The Bank of Scotland loaned £11.2 million to an ex-banker to fund a new stadium for his football club; Dunfermline Athletic. Everybody then went bust leaving Lloyds Bank holding the baby with the gold-plated nappies. Here’s what the article says about the final outcome.
Despite being valued at £11.2m in 2011, the East End Park stadium was sold by administrators KPMG to a fan-led buyout team for just £700,000.
It strikes me, that there has been a bit of hanky-panky here. After all why would a club with average gates of a few thousand want a stadium that holds over eleven thousand? I wonder if Gordon Brown has any links to Dunfermline and its football club!
Tan And Ollie
The BBC commentator on the Cardiff match at Arsenal on Match of the Day last night deliberately referred to Vincent Tan and Ole Gunnar Solskjaer as Tan and Ollie.
I was amused, but was the Cardiff City owner?
A Day Of Lots Of Misses And Rain
Yesterday was one of those days. I went to Portman Road to see Ipswich play Charlton.
I got there on time, but only just, as the journey to Liverpool Street was a succession of misses, buses and Underground trains. I had to skip lunch, as my usual pit-stop at Carluccio’s at Spitalfields was closed for New Year’s Day. The alternative of sandwiches from Marks and Spencer was also not on, as they were closed.
No Sandwiches
Luckily, I was able to get a couple of EatNakd bars from Boots, although after I’d bought them, I found that the Camden Food company had a bigger selection.
I was soaked, by the time I got to my seat and the rain was so bad, they’d had to move some spectators to a drier part of the stadium.
To say the match was ruined by the rain, would be an understatement. That makes it three out of the last four matches that I’ve seen, have been ruined by the weather.
To add to the misses, David McGoldrick missed a penalty, so the match was only drawn.
Coming back, I wasn’t as fast as normal to the station and as the match finished late, I missed the train and had to wait for forty minutes in the cold.
And then coming back from Liverpool Street, I decided to take the dry route to Barbican station to get a 56 bus. And as i walked to the stop, the bus I wanted roared past. So I had to take a 153 and then a 38!
It was not the best of days! It probably summed up my miserable Christmas. But speaking to others at the match, mine seemed to have just about this year’s norm. Next year, I won’t be here!
A Miserable Start To The New Year
I went to bed last night about ten thirty and slept well, as I generally do.
I got up about seven and sorted out my e-mails and checked my finances. But where was the news on television and radio. It seems the world stops for two weeks, when in reality it just goes on.
And why do we get endless reviews of the year? It doesn’t get any better the second, third or fourth time round.
I can’t wait for next Monday! At least, I have made my first New Year resolution and that is to make sure, I’m not at home by myself next year. Or in fact ever again!
I had thought about going to Australia to see the cricket this year. So at least I called that one right!
I needed a bit of shopping this morning. But of course my usual Waitrose isn’t opening today. So I walked around the corner to the small Sainsburys and bought the few things I needed.
And I got wet in the miserable rain!
I didn’t get any meaningful e-mails, except spam too!
At least I’ve got football this afternoon. But I suspect that will be miserable too! I wonder what odds, I canb get on them losing six-nil?
An Embarrassing Half Time Entertainment
Bournemouth put on a Crossbar Challenge at half-time, but it was rather unusually embarrassing for the hosts.
One of the travelling Ipswich supporters won the prize, by hitting the crossbar.
I’ve seen this run a few times and most clubs don’t let visiting supports take part for obvious reasons.
We all gave him a big cheer, as he returned to his seat amongst us.
Vincent Tan Is 66-1 To Be The Next Cardiff Manager
This is according to Match of the Day.
The big question is, could he work with the owner of the club?
Real Fans Don’t Like Certain Teams
I’m a real football fan, who has followed the game probably since about the age of six or so, when my father first took me to White Hart Lane. One of the early games I saw was when Newcastle and the legend, Jackie Milburn, were visitors. I think Spurs won and I do know that Ted Ditchburn, their goalkeeper was outstanding and that Jackie Milburn missed a penalty. Other teams, I saw in the fifties and early sixties with my father, included Leeds with John Charles and Stoke City with Stanley Matthews. I watched most Cup finals of that era on the television, but the earliest I remember is probably the Manchester City v Birmingham City final of 1956, when Bert Trautmann broke his neck and Don Revie played as a deep-lying centre-forward.
my father had had a long history of both playing football and supporting Spurs. He always said, that he first went to Spurs in a pony and trap, and hisfather paid a boy to hold the horse’s head during the match. i think too, he’d been at the 1921 Cup Final.
I started going to Ipswich when my parents moved to Felixstowe. Usually, I was taken by the next door neighbour as getting between Ipswich and Felixstowe in those days wasn’t easy by public transport. As I was living in London most of the time, I still cycled to some of Spurs home matches and later at Liverpool University, I visited both Everton and Liverpool and quite a lot of teams in the area, including Manchester United, Preston, Leeds, Blackpool, Blackburn and Burnley. I didn’t carry a camera as I do now, so there is no record of the visits to the old grounds. Some were very rudimentary and far inferior to how they are today. I remember that getting to Old Trafford involved getting a steam powered shuttle train from the centre of Manchester. I think this was probably, when I took the train from Huyton.
Over the years, I’ve developed a dislike of certain teams. I won’t mention them all, but the usual suspects are there.
This last few weeks, I’ve been watching the story unfold at Cardiff City. I don’t like bullies and I very much feel that the club, the fans and the manager have been very badly treated.
So I felt quite a bit of delight, when Sunderland scored their second goal tonight at Cardiff.
To not win couldn’t have happened to a more deserving owner!
My Second Worst Christmas Ever!
This has been my second worst Christmas ever! Except for Christmas lunch with my son, his partner and a few friends, it has been an unmitigated disaster.
I’ve frozen stiff, as my house has fought back against the plumber, who has gamely tried to fix the killer central heating system.
One of my pleasures at Christmas is going to see Ipswich play and the fixture list and the trains conspired to make that impossible. My attempts at finding a lift were a futile waste of time. I think, I should have developed a Plan B, where I skipped Christmas lunch and found a good hotel near Doncaster, from where I could have got a taxi to the match. But then knowing my luck, it would have been flooded out.
Incidentally, I’ve not bought my ticket for the trains to Bournemouth for Sunday, as the day I do, something will come about to stop that!
Next Christmas, I won’t be here at Christmas! Perhaps, I’ll just hit a policeman on Christmas Eve, so I’m inside for a day or so. At least, I’d have some new friends to talk to.
On the other hand there must be hotels that specialise in miserable Christmases. I could always try a cruise, as from past experience, I know they’re pretty grim.
My worst Christmas wasn’t 2007 when C died just before. I helped out at the Old Peoples’ Christmas Lunch and I seem to remember there was plenty of football to watch amongst friends.
The worst one had actually been a few years before, when our eldest son and his wife, went off skiing and left C and myself to look after about a dozen horses. And it snowed! I’m not in contact with them any more, as she feels that husbands should have no contact with their former families. That was a Christmas to truly forget. But as we did, C and myself, laughed it off. I do hope my son and his wife are flooded out this Christmas and have their worst Christmas ever. I know that’s uncharitable, but they deserve nothing better.
That Was A Waste Of Time That Was!
I’m now back home, as I failed to get a lift to Doncaster, in time to get there for the match. So my ticket and the one I bought for a possible driver have gone to waste. The money is irrevalent, but i don’t like to throw tickets in the bin, when someone less well off trhan myself, might have used them.
I probably didn’t leave myself enough time to get to the A1 at Apex Corner. As Doncaster, is one of these towns, where I’ve never had a gluten-free meal in the centre and the ground is some way away from the centre, I went to the only open Carluccuio’s near me at St. Pancras to get a meal, before taking a Tube and a 113 bus out of London.
The Tube and bus was my downfall, as it took about half-an-hour longer than I thought it would.
So when the clock went past 12:30, my cut-off time for getting to the match, I reversed my route and came home.
As luck would have it, I got home a lot quicker, than it had taken me to go.
In a way the missing of this match might be a blessing. The two other impossible ones; Yeovil and Leeds, can now be missed, without them breaking a perfect record.
Unless of course today’s match should be abandoned!
Can This Christmas Get Any Worse?
Yesterday’s lunch with my son and his friends went well, but I had to come home, as I wasn’t feeling well! Nothing serious and I suspect it was just the effect of the cold dry weather, affecting my gut. I don’t think I ate any gluten, but it was as if I had. So it was alone and back to watching old Two Ronnies and Morecambe and Wise on BBC2.
To make matters worse, when I returned home, I did find that I’d left a window open, when I went out. The house had a temperature of eighteen. At least, the open window only let the cold in.
At least, I was able to use the air conditioning to take the chill off of the temperature. But of course, the humidifier I’d hired in to get the humidity up had failed. Although, I’m doubtful it was ever working properly.
Why does she hate me so much? You can understand, why I feel that religion and God, herself, is so much rubbish.
I went to bed at about ten last night, as bed was the one warm place in the house. The temperature was about 20 °C with a humidity somewhere in the low thirties.
I slept well as I always do and decided to get up at five, as I was fully awake. I thought there might be some good news on the cricket and with the air-conditioning on, I might get the temperature up to twenty-three or so.
But of course, the news from Melbourne was its usual load of old rubbish.
And then the letter R on my e-mail computer packed up. Try typing anything sensible without that letter. It could have been worse, as the E might have failed. So now, I’m using my other computer, which is not as easy for my one-handed typing. It also doesn’t run my preferred Windows Vista.
At six-thirty, I decided to have a hot bath. That was good, but the bathroom is stone cold, as the heating isn’t really working.
In an hour or so, I’m going to get my paper and see if I can find a nice warm cafe. Sadly, there isn’t a hotel near me with a restaurant I can trust. Carluccio’s don’t open until eleven.
At least though, I’ve got plenty of porridge and some bacon, eggs and beans for a fry-up. I’d love to have some sausages, but they’re all in my freezer. But would they freeze out before next weekend, if I got them out now? The nearest supplier is one of two Sainsbury stores, which open at ten. I’ll need to go to one, as I’m virtually out of gluten-free bread.
I still intend to get to Doncaster, and as I write this, I haven’t got a lift. I did think there’d be someone in the area going north with a space, so I didn’t make alternative provisions. This would have been to book a place on the coach from Newmarket. I can get there by taking a train to Stansted and then using a taxi. But it is now too late to book the coach.
So if I do go, it’ll be a 113 bus to Apex Corner and then hitching up the A1.
I’m really looking forward to tomorrow and the return to some degree of normality.
Next winter, I’ll book myself into a five-star hotel on Christmas Eve. Then when it all goes pear-shaped, I’ll at least ruin the Christmas of a lot of other people.
The Anonymous Widower 