The Bard’s back in town

Shakespeare and step-mums. They know their stuff.

The Bard knows best

The Bard knows best


And yes contrary to popular belief and a line from a Bogart film, it is ‘on’, not ‘of’.

It is apparently a point of some debate as to what Propsero was going on about at the end of The Tempest. Man’s mortality? The fact that his magical powers don’t amount to hill of beans in this crazy world (now we really are mixing our Bards and Bogarts), the list, or at least the internet goes on. But now, having been gifted this badge over pre-match brunch before Lesta played Liverpool in the early kick off, TLF thinks she’s got it sussed.

The ‘we’ that Prospero refers to is of course, your football team and every associated poignant moment, whoever you may support and their never-ending ability to put hope in your heart. Even when your head knows better.

Take TLF. First Lesta trip of the season was a lunch time fixture against Liverpool. Yes, the clean-sheet accumulating, high flying, free scoring Liverpool. TLF was, in the run up to this game, a study in expectation management. General view when asked – at least 3-1 to Liverpool and the occasional cold sweat when contemplating Wes Morgan facing up to Mo Salah.

But cometh the morning and cometh the stuff that dreams are made on. The frisson of excitement and the belief that anything is possible, as the new season ticket is awoken from its pre-season slumbers and slipped confidently into the wallet. After all these years, TLF can’t contain herself. It IS exciting and anything IS possible.
Well almost.

2-1 home defeats probably weren’t what Prospero was referring to. But if I had to have a dream 2-1 defeat that would be it. Entertaining, with a sniff of a draw and not embarrassed. The other positive with an early kick off was that TLF was back in St Albans to catch the end of the 3pm kick-offs on Five Live; always an easier experience when your team has already played. Although TLF does have to keep an ear out for the fortunes of West Ham, in the interests of domestic harmony. Oh dear.

As TLF parked the car in the drive, the Hammers did at least seem to have secured their first point of the season. By the time I was through the front door, Wolves had scored and a gloomy pall pervaded the living room.

Mr TLF tried to find solace in one of his favourite antique-y type programmes; Flog It. Being broadcast on this particular Satday from, yep; Wolverhampton.
Nightmare.
Ever-optimistic Fox

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