Author Archives: Sophie

Slave labour

There are always difficult choices to make when both my Cities are scheduled to play at home at the same time. Whose turn is it? And is it perhaps inevitable that the spurned team will win, just to spite me? … Continue reading

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Rain (and dog) stopped play

Sometimes it is just not meant to be. Having successfully negotiated a Bank Holiday Monday football eggstravaganza (sorry), with a free pass to the full Hemel away experience (meet pub 10am for breakfast and pint, cab to somewhere for more … Continue reading

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The worry bunny

Spring, a time of new beginnings. As the axis of the earth increases its tilt relative to the sun (Prof TLF), daylight lengthens, temperatures rise and fresh buds bloom. The season of rebirth brings us chocolate eggs, bunnies and lambykins … Continue reading

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Dr Foxtus

It is March. Mr TLF’s birthday is looming. So football is eschewed (BOOM!) for a trip to Shakespeare land and that other Theatre of Dreams, the RSC…all about being a selfless TLF and NOTHING to do with Lesta’s game being … Continue reading

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Slumming it….

Crustacea slathered in a savoury dressing and trapped between two portions of boulangerie have never ranked high in the TLF top 10 sandwich list. There are times however when your weekend is looking so eccentric that you can’t help yourself. … Continue reading

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A goal, a goal. My kingdom for a goal!

The final Satday of February dawns with a cold sense of foreboding and a cruel easterly wind. One football team is back after a two week break following that heartbreaking (and almost door breaking due to a minor TLF over-reaction) … Continue reading

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A mathematical certainty…..maybe

As has already been acknowledged, TLFs don’t do mafffs, numbers and wotnot. We do words. But following a further defeat for the mighty Saints and the news that the new gaffer thinks we need to win 7 or 8 games … Continue reading

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Vari-Valentine

It was Valentines weekend and sadly Cupid (who I assume must be gainfully employed during the whole Valentines Day gig) proved to be a somewhat capricious, contrary and cruel chum. Much like the cunreferees charged with officiating at my beloved … Continue reading

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And so to Dartford

It is, as they say, “a funny old game.” A grey, rainy, cold and windy day meant Dartford away for the mighty Saints. Nothing funny about the weather accompanying the game and nothing funny about the actual 90 minutes bit … Continue reading

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My kingdom for a horse…..

They’re under starters orders….. Sixty people packed into a shiny and spangly mighty Saints clubhouse (show me some blue & yellow table paper and instructions from Lisa Wood & I’ll show you an attractive table) for race night. Fear not; … Continue reading

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