Time is, accordingly to the Rolling Stones, on myyyyyy side. I am not sure if I always agree with the sentiment, especially with a half century birthday starting to loom on the 2019 horizon but to be fair to Sir Michael of Jagger after Satday I can see that OFT (Old Father Time) does have his moments and on this occasion was giving it all to ensure that TLF’s day went according to plan.
And a plan was certainly required; particularly when you hadn’t planned to be as busy as it turns out you are actually going to be. Mr TLF rolled his eyes at the state of TLF’s schedule while I stuck to my line that applying the occasional bit of time management and focus to your weekend activities never does any harm.
Tick! Friday evening was easy. Get a train to Brum, with sufficient change over time for the train to Stratford to fit in coffee cake purchase from the buffet at Moor Street and then get all kulturally with a bit of RSC restoration comedy. Oh pleeaase. TLFs laugh in the face of such logistical challenges.
Tock! Compete a personal best at Stratford on Avon park run, which I was surprised to discover is possible after carousing until 1am fuelled by the well kept secret that is clearly the elite runners’ pre-run diet of pistachio ice cream and red wine.
Tick! A small window of opportunity to get from park run finish, to hotel, to train station is rendered even smaller by an inability to operate a train app with any degree of skill. Fortunately OFT intervenes giving TLF a metaphorical push onto a train that she doesn’t know exists and isn’t sure where it is going. OFT knows best…
Tock! Birmingham to London is a breeze, punctuated only by those operating Virgin Trains’s twitter account having no sense of irony or humour. In London by 13.56. Could Thameslink deliver a TLF that needed to purchase pre-match beer to St Albans for kick off? Remarkably yes and with time for a pre-match Stella to boot. When trains work, they really work. The railway network delivered TLF. Could the Mighty Saints deliver the right result?
Tick! Well not a tick actually but that’s where we are in the sequence so bear with. Despite being on the PFTPOs (keep up!) there wasn’t much zip about the Mighty Saints and it was the opponents, Poole Town who went in all chipper at half time, 1-0 up.
Tock! I don’t know if it was OFT whispering into the Poole keeper’s ear but something made him think that rushing out 45 yards to try and tackle Rhys Murrell-Williamson was one of his better life choices. Very wrong young man. Rhys poked the ball through the keeper’s legs, and time stood still as all the Saints fans behind the goal drew collective breath in an attempt to suck the ball into the net. It trickled in, just the right side of the post. We all went slightly crackers and the keeper went a shade of red much deeper than the Poole kit.
Tick! In fact tickety, tickety, tick! With 30 seconds to go, Percy Kiangebeni stoops down as the ball loops across the goalmouth, and connects his head with the ball and in it goes. Cue pandemonium on the terraces and some very bad goal celebration twerking from the lovely Percy. Another last minute winner; OFT is definitely on our side.
Tock! Dinner at the Cock. Mine was seasoned with thyme….
I’ll get my coat.
BST TLF
RIP Stephen Hawking