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!
I’ve Got My Banners Ready!
I’ve made a couple of banners to help in my journey.
I’ve Got My Banners Ready!
Whether I go though, is up to the weather!
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.
Nothing Is Impossible!
It’s just that some things are more difficult than others.
One of my favourite quotes was made by Barnes Wallace in an interview by Chris Brasher for the obituary television program, that would follow the innovative engineer’s death.
There is no greater thrill in life than showing something is impossible and then proving how it can be done!
I’ve lived my life by this mantra even before I saw the program.
My current problem is how to get to Doncaster on Boxing Day to see Ipswich play.
There are no trains or buses, as it is Christmas.
I have posted on forums, written to newspapers, the television and radio and not one sensible reply. I’ve even offered a free ticket to the person, who drives me up to Doncaster.
I have even thought about hiring a helicopter. Light aircraft are not on, as Doncaster built on their grass field by the racecourse and the old Doncaster ground.
But then no-one says no to this London mongrel with a strong connection to Suffolk. According to my late father, I was at least conceived in the county. The last time was when I was told it would be impossible to visit all 92 League clubs in alphabetical order by public transport. I did that, but perhaps not as easily or fast, as I would have liked. I’m a stubborn bugger!
So I’ll be hitching all the way up. I can get a bus to the bottom of the A1 at Apex Corner and that’s where I’ll start. I’ve got a banner ready saying.
TRACTOR TO DONCASTER PLEASE!!
Only one person ever said no to me and that was the devil after my stroke. She took one look at me and thought I’d be too much trouble. So she let me stay here!
In a way, it was a compliment.
Where Have All the Hitch-Hikers Gone?
A letter in The TImes today asks this question and even ponders where drivers carrying trade plates have gone.
When I drove, I always gave people lifts and so did C.
In fact we were of an age, where many more people hitched than have ever since. In one case, C and I actually htched to London from Liverpool to tell her parents, that we were going to get married. Little thanks we got for being up-front and honest, as I was accussed if getting her pregnant. Not that she was as we just got married in time before she was! Or else it was a very long pregnancy!
But I used to enjoy hitching and I must admit, I’ve thought about it lately, as public transport is so bad round here. But then public transport was always bad in East Anglia and I can remember that you had to have a car as as eighteen-year-old as there were no buses or trains from Felixstowe to anywhere interesting. I suppose there were ones that got you there, but the last bus into the town was about seven in the evening.
But even in those days of the 1960s, hitching was not very productive in East Anglia and I can remember spending a whole day getting from the M1 to Felixstowe. Or on another occassion, when C was a mother’s help in the summer before we married in Norfolk with the Wright family, having to hitch or almost walk back to Felixstowe from Hingham.
But these days, there is usually some form of transport, so people don’t give lifts as they feel you must be some sort of low life to hitch. And because no one gives lifts, no-one tries!
The Anonymous Widower 