It starred swimmingly. Well metaphorically obviously, pools not being open yet n’all.
A day off on Friday and a suitably masked trip into London. The first for 120 days for a haircut. Now admittedly trips to the well known hair emporium, ‘ Mr TLF’s Trims’, have been pretty successful, but sooner or later the difficult bits of the coiffure that we have studiously ignored start to need attention. Time for a professional to sort it out, although Mr TLF does remain an inspiration as we maintained an element of his unintended and yet well executed undercut.
Now surplus to requirements
A newly shorn TLF then found herself in a pub for the first time in 128 days (not that I was counting or anything). A seat at a pre-booked table at the Mermaid and a cheeky pint with the lovely Lee, football programme editor of this parish.
And still the eased lockdown cup continued to runneth over, as TLF hot-pawed it to Lussmanns for dinner avec Mr TLF. Lussmanns! TLF’s favourite venue of choice and provider of lockdown food delivery, up and running in a socially distanced way. Perfect food and perhaps, just perhaps better serving skills thanks yours truly.
Not bad……
But better
Satday delivered even more weekend happiness and normality. A visit from one of the TLF parental sets (Woodhouse Eaves branch). After months of meet ups cancelled due to both storms and pandemics, we were in our garden with victuals and bonhomie.
Now clearly there comes a point where too much joy is dangerous. Or so the Footballing Gods believe, as they staged a Sunday intervention to ensure that TLF didn’t suffer from a joy overload.
And goodness me they did it in style.
That’s the Footballing Gods.
Not Lesta.
They were really pants.
Really, really pants.
Football is Dead to Me Fox