Go on then Jerry!

I wasn’t going to do this.
I really wasn’t.
Even when colleague work colleague Jerry (admit it you thought it was an inappropriate German joke didn’t you) told me he would be broken hearted if there was no traditional world cup rambling from TLF. TLF stood firm; work is too busy, the commute is too stressful and relations Chez TLF will be under sufficient threat with wall to wall football for a month. Mr TLF was already asking by Satday “how long does this go on for?” And as we were at Stratford, Shakespeare had answer for that, “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.”

And yet here I am, with my determined NIET! now sounding very hollow.

It wasn’t the amazing Spain Portugal game that inspired me (and while I don’t like you Ronaldo that free kick was some response to a suspended sentence from the Spanish authorities for less than appropriate management of your financials).
It wasn’t the chance to fuss about VAR; I’ll leave that to everyone else, although I will say that right now I imagine the French are saying a mahoosive merci after Satday.

Nor did inspiration come from the need to respond to the surly Patrice Eva, lolling around in his chair in the ITV studio, like some adolescent who has just been banned from every form of social media known to man. You are being paid or at least kept very well to talk abut football at the greatest footballing show on earth. Look interested! Or at least swap with me. I don’t know if you are just a miserable git or just horrified at the idea that you sharing the studio and panel duties with human beings that have ovaries, but either way STOPPIT.

Nope it was Danny Murphy. And his little Yoda like comment regarding a wayward Spanish pass, saying of Diego Costa, “disappointed he is.” And with that my notebook for capturing bon mots was out and I was sucked in.
There are rules though. For the sake of my sanity some days I might be brief. Other days a picture may replace a thousand words. Whatever you get; you get. No referring me to VAR. And you won’t be getting fixtures and results – the are wallcharts, newspapers, telly, radio and the interweb for all that.

While Satday’s penalty miss by a Peru team, that were at the time on top, was tragic it wasn’t a tragedy in the true sense of the word (see we are educational too). Tragedy was taking place on a different stage, with Family TLF missing the Croatia game for the Scottish play. Macbeth promoted to goalkeeper played a blinder, confident that he could never be beaten by any ‘woman born’ only for Macduff to turn up in his Birnan Wood kit and pierce Macbeth’s defence. Only Scottish reference you’ll get all month, but possibly not the only Shakespeare one.

It says a lot for Sunday that Spain v Portugal is now a mere memory. While I know Mexico are no slouches and Switzerland are ranked 6th in the world (two places behind Brazil) there is nothing better than seeing two pre-tournament favourites have a wobble. Even if you, along with half the world to be fair have tipped them to do well. Mexico’s coach Juan Carlos Osorio caught TLF’s eye with his small notebook three different coloured pens, neatly placed in the corner of his technical area. I do hope his stationery is not put at risk by any sideline spats a la Costa Rica/Serbia.

So much fun….it would be easy to just enjoy it, but today Ingurland make their first appearance. I have low expectations, years of supporting Lesta have taught me that is best….Gareth Southgate seems to have created and attitude and atmosphere amongst his team that is vaguely enticing. They have made me care. DAMMIT. The remote control will be in orbit tonight if it all goes t*ts up I can tell you.

Before that Panama in their first ever World Cup, against a Belgian side that depending on which paper you read is a golden generation firing on all cylinders or an unhappy camp who don’t like their manager. We shall see.
Game on!

Late-to-the-party-but-definitely-here-now Fox

Dish of the day: Paraguay
Let’s hope something along the liquid lines makes for a souper day of football (BOOMBOOM!)
https://www.sbs.com.au/food/recipes/chicken-soup-ricotta-dumplings-vori-vori-de-pollo

Phrase of the day: Belgium, which for the sake of not upsetting anyone means we need it in German, French and Dutch
And as they are playing Panama it needs to be a sartorial elegance comment NOT a terrace chant:
Nice hat!
Schoner hut!
Beau chapeau!
Leuke hoed!

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Loose ends

No not the radio 4 programme or the 80s British RnB band.

No, we are talking the loose ends that a lazy, or as I prefer to describe it, BUSY TLF left trailing in her wordy wake since her last missive. The domestic season is well and truly over and only the arrival of the World Cup is ensuring we avoid an unhealthy excess of quality couple time Chez TLF. TLF needs to finish what she started so eyes down for a whistle stop tour of how the rest of April and most of May panned out.

Loose end one (Sustainable behaviours)
The last home game of the season (play-offs pending) sees the Mighty Saints not only crossing everything but also making an active contribution to the worthy cause that is St Albans Sustainability Week. Sustainability covers many topics including health (physical and mental), the environment and the importance of community. As ever TLF was keen to learn, particularly on a beautiful day that started with park run, took in the game and finished with an end of season knees up in some very good company. So here for those who perhaps weren’t engaged as they could have been are TLF’s key dos and don’ts for a sustainable Satday.
DO join the walking bus. Good company, good for the environment and for the legs.

All aboard!

All aboard!


DON’T ignore the need to refuel the walking bus. Otherwise the elf and safety will be after you.
Bus stop

Bus stop


DO, when you know you have a long day ahead of you, pace yourself. (NB we all have our own definitions of ‘pacing’. For myself and a car-free (and carefree come to that) Red Julie this involves the following script:
One of us (it will vary): Do you fancy another?
The other one: We ought to pace ourselves; it’s gonna be a long day.
OOU: Yeah. I guess.
TOO: Ah f8ck it; I’ll get em in.

DON’T hold someone’s pint while they go to the loo. People will mock you and christen you 3 pints

They are NOT all mine!

They are NOT all mine!


DO, when the club has rightly encouraged lots of small people to attend, rise above the fact that these small people have chosen to sit down on the terracing where the ‘grown ups’ usually stand.
DON’T be surprised when this large pack of small people, occupying ‘our space’ turn around open mouthed when we vocally express our frustrations, from a rather cramped space at the back of the terracing, at the match officials.
DO share your chocolatey raffle prize with friends
DON’T pretend that a sharing a bottle of prosecco and a bottle of wine while you get changed for the evening ‘do’ is an example of ‘pacing’ yourself. You are fooling no one. Even if you do line your stomach with a cheese and pickle buttie.
DO assess, in a sober moment, just how appropriate it is, at a social event, to correct both your team manager and captain’s pronunciation of next week’s opponents Bath (or Barth as they prefer). When you have done that assessment pay attention to the outcome….
DON’T in the interests of your relationship, when you roll in at 1am after the end of season shindig, wake your partner up. And if you do, DON’T spend the next 20 minutes telling him how lovely team captain, David Noble is.

Loose end two (Roman exchange)
Being a dutiful auntie, an away trip to Bath gives TLF the chance to meet her 11 month old niece for the first time (oops). The kid seems a laid back sort, not quite ready for an afternoon on the beer so we meet for brunch, she resplendent in her Mighty Saints hoody. I think she might need to have a word with her older brother who had, to the amusement of Mr TLF, asked the day before WHY I wanted to go and watch football.
Although to be honest as we watched the Mighty Saints we might have asked the same question. We needed a miracle, a lot of clear goals for us, and results going our way elsewhere. An early penalty save by the Saints suggested maybe it would be our day. But it wasn’t to be. At least it wasn’t to be on the pitch. Off it, as usual was a different story. From an AD43 takeover of the Ale House….which briefly became a tourist attraction as bemused Japanese tourists took photos of the invading Verulamium hordes,
to the classic pre-match refuelling

All the major food groups

All the major food groups


to the Bath City half time beer ordering system (oh yes)
It's like being at the theatre!

It’s like being at the theatre!


to a memorable (vaguely) train journey home in the best of company…as ever.

Loose end three (un)Happy Birthday
Prima facie evidence if ever it was needed that the footballing fixture Gods really can be cruel.
Lesta v West Ham.
TLF v Mr TLF
On her birthday.
Oh Hahaha.
Chuck in Luton away in the north, a Satday train service run by morons who don’t check the fixture list and you have a birthday not fit for a TLF.
Mr TLF chose not to be magnanimous in victory, treating a late TLF (see reference to trains) to a claret and blue victory dance complete with scarf on her return. Fortunately a good haul of presents and a bank holiday weekend to extend the non-football related celebrations, ensured there was no birthday massacre.

Loose end four (There maybe trouble ahead)
The unwelcome close season news was that the City Council didn’t intend to include a new ground for the Mighty Saints in its local plan. Not good; Clarence Park is much loved but is not a sustainable home. What was better news was that the co-ordinated response of SBYS and many, many others said all you need to know about how much the Mighty Saints means to so many brilliant people, many of whom I am lucky enough to call my friends. We made a case, people listened and there is some hope.
Onwards and upwards.
Loose ends tidied.
Knotty Fox

#MyCityMeans

#MyCityMeans

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Both barrels

Sometimes TLF can’t find inspiration anywhere. I know I left it somewhere. Possibly with my keys. Or my season ticket. Or maybe it’s down the back of the sofa.
And yes mum I have looked in all the places where I last had it.

Then magically something is said, something happens, a ridiculous connection forms in the theme park that is my head. Or a mug breaks.
Just a moment. It inspires. You type. You move on.

Except for that bloody mug. I open the cupboard to facilitate tea making responsibilities and there it is; staring at me. Willing me to write about it again, like some attention seeking Z list celebrity. And of course goading me that since it last saw some glue action Lesta haven’t managed a win.

I am becoming worryingly obsessed.
The hammer didn’t work.
It might be time to up the ante.

"Just borrowing the shotgun darling."

“Just borrowing the shotgun darling.”


Annie Oakley Fox

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Hammer time?

Rumours of the demise of Mr TLF’s mug were premature. Inspired by the Easter story and assisted by super glue Mr TLF brings his mug back to life.
IMG_5786

Unfortunately the unbroken mug proved to be exceptionally unlucky. The lucky break was officially over last weekend as an uninspiring Lesta lost to Newcastle and the Mighty Saints contrived to lose to the bottom of the table team, and then a couple of days later by to the second from bottom team. Playoff jitters ahoy.

Desperate times call for desperate measures…..

Hammers, meet the hammer

Hammers, meet the hammer

MC Fox

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Them’s the breaks

There is early kitchen sink Easter drama Chez TLF. Cast as the angry young man, Mr TLF looks a little glazed and TLF is a bit thrown to discover that he has been having a smashing time while she has been out for a cheeky easter Satday run.

Was this some potty response to the current shenanigans Chez the unhappy family that is West Ham? It seemed unlikely as he had so far handled it with a simple and brief, “Football is dead to me.” But maybe that mask of studious detachment had slipped and he had finally cracked!?

Or maybe he had just been a bit clumsy with the washing up?

Less a game of two halves more a handle of three pieces

Less a game of two halves more a handle of three pieces

“It’s a sign!” We both ex-clay-med (sorry) as we examined the victim. And that’s exactly what it turned out to be, with the rare sight of weekend that contained victories for Foxes, Saints and Hammers. Obviously a lucky break.

Mr TLF briefly bemoaned not having invested some hard earned on a cheeky treble. But he was wise.
Gambling. It’s a mug’s game.

Potters wheel Fox

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A brief history of time (TLF style)

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

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By the pricking of my thumbs…

After the hi jinx, bonhomie and snowy tomfoolery of early March, there was a distinct downturn on Planet TLF. And if a DD isn’t an acceptable excuse for a fortnightly rather than weekly missive then frankly Dear Reader,
Tough.

Sometimes when all is going wrong in the football world (and The Mighty Saints were briefly doing nothing to make us smile)TLF can generally rely on the world of kulture to restore good cheer amidst the slings and outrageous fortunes of the general crap that life flings at us all. Macbeth is, in 2018 like a bus. TLF has waited for ages for one to come along and then all of a sudden the National Theatre and the RSC both come driving up to the theatrical bus stop.

First up, hot(!) on the heels of our footballing snowman was a trip to the National Theatre. Sadly the bus that is this particular Macbeth production is most definitely not your luxury coach. More ancient minibus that may or may not deliver you to your destination and will certainly make the journey as uncomfortable as possible with its gung-ho treatment of the text and half-ar$ed direction. Sorry I know that metaphor has been tortuously mixed but hopefully you get the idea.

After the midweek disappointment of the Macbeth fixture, there was at least football to look forward to, but some rather deferred gratification on this occasion. In the great belief that travel broadens the mind, TLF had locked onto the club organised coach trip to Hungerford for the Monday night away fixture. That of course required a challenging domestic discussion akin to Brexit negotiations. Fortunately me and Mr TLF are a little bit more on the ball than both David Davis and Michel Barnier and sure enough compromise was reached. TLF would absent herself for the Satday home fixture against Truro and invest in Quality Time with MR TLF (with limited access to Match jupdates via Twitter) and could then travel guilt free, and banter heavy to Hungerford in the company of Julie and others.

Maybe I should stop calling it Macbeth and refer to it as the Scottish Play, because TLF’s luck wasn’t in. Saints had lost in my absence at the weekend and so TLF was looking forward to an early depart from work to catch the bus and witness a bit of on the road push for the play offs (which for the rest of the season will be known as the PFTPOs).

And then it all went it bit pear shaped.
“Anyone wishing to catch the bus to Hungerford take one step forward.”

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TLF!?”

The world of work, which admittedly keeps TLF in football, Stella and bacon fries, intervened with some very badly timed fu*ckwittery on behalf of various individuals who will remain nameless. Game over before it had even begun for TLF. There is no bus trip with banter and bonhomie and the news from those who make it isn’t great either; a 3-1 defeat. Happy Monday…..

That also meant that TLF’s time in the FFZ had reached dangerously high levels. Sixteen days without a game. And that wasn’t going to be resolved with any immediacy as the following weekend was Mr TLF’s birthday. And even your average TLF accepts that it’s not particularly wise to prioritise football over his birthday. The important thing of course is that any birthday activity that takes precedence over football is one that benefits ALL parties. Which is why Satday’s updates from a hypothermic Julie were enjoyed from the comfort of our own personal hot tub. A first win in three weeks. Lucky hot tub? Don’t mind if I do.

Toil and trouble Fox

Posted in Football deprived | Comments Off on By the pricking of my thumbs…

S’no joke

St Albans City’s new signing steps up to take a penalty on his debut. A smile on his face, but ice clearly flows through his veins.

IMG_1278

The opposition keeper is a picture of concentration. And slightly ridiculous winter attire.
IMG_5606

GOOOOALLLLL! The keeper puts out a despairing hand but to no avail.
IMG_1297

Production credits
Direction: Mr TLF
Labour: TLF
Photography: Mr TLF
We would assure our audience that no snowperson was injured or put at risk during the creation of this blog.

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Fantastic Four

On a chilly Wednesday evening the Saintettes are ensconced Chez Radio Verulam to record an interview for the Saturday Sports show. Even though it’s pre-recorded we are all slightly nervous, particularly having received the instruction to ‘not swear’. The interviewer Matt and the programme host are welcoming, Helen, Julie and Donna are articulate and full of bonhomie. TLF talks a bit too much about Christmas cookies and has a massive mind meltdown when asked to complete the sentence “I love my Saints because…” but at least I don’t swear.

The following Satday anticipation was high. TLF parentals were in town, we were all booked to see Fairport Convention at the Alban Arena that night and our interview was scheduled to be broadcast shortly after the game. All we needed were for the Mighty Saints to serve up some rip-roaring match day entertainment.

Now I accept that Saints weren’t the main attraction; merely the warm up act for an august day as The Saintettes made their media debut, but there wasn’t quite the need to be as disappointing as they were. Playing against bottom four side Chippenham Town, there was little to warm the cockles of the shivering occupants of the terraces. Unless you count a comedy disaster of a free kick ‘routine’. Which I don’t. Instead we had to rely on terrace banter courtesy of Trevor, Barry and Adrian. The latter was responsible for the classic, ‘surely you mean your sister,’ when he was introduced to Mummy TLF. Funny how she never complains even though she has heard it before. TLF plumbed new depths, responding to Trevor’s offer of KitKat with, “I can never turn down the offer of a finger from you Trevor.” It was the football’s fault. They drove me to it.

All any of us wanted was the final whistle, but the ref who had been a spectacular irritant throughout, was presumably punishing us for the verbal abuse we had aimed in his direction when he played four minutes of extra time. Our despair at the thought of four more freezing minutes turned to joy however as Banton stuck away a penalty, followed up by a Rhys cracker. 90 minutes of misery was forgotten, with Julie extra ecstatic – no one wins a golden goal with the 90 minute ticket!

But would the Saintettes’ interview maintain the joie d’vivre? Apparently so. Nothing guaranteed more to curl your toes up than listening back to yourself, but with a generous build up by presenter Tony Rice and some great responses on social media I think we did ourselves and our club proud.

Video killed the radio star(s)? I think not Mr Trevor of Horn…..

Marconi Fox

Did anyone mention a Sony award?

Did anyone mention a Sony award?

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The journey, not the destination matters

It’s almost like TS Elliot was part of the Adrian-organised, Fullers sponsored posse’s trip to see the Mighty Saints take on Welling.

The trip started with a precise schedule; at least that was the plan. As it was Trevor was unable to meet TLF and Lee at the designated hour due to a domestic rodent problem, which had the potential to render our group saver tickets invalid (I understand two is not technically a ‘group’). Any concerns in that department were however outweighed by the idea of a full awayday football trip. Julie and Adrian (chief organiser) were ensconced on the 9.33am that pulled into St Albans and I like to think that our presence lent a certain quality to the first class carriage.

First stop on the watering-hole line was The Admiralty; not the government office responsible for the Navy, but a Fullers pub in Trafalgar Square. TLF, being a modest drinker and it being an early hour; 10.15am to be precise, doffed the light weight’s cap and kicked off with a cup of tea while her fellow travellers hit the beers. That kept TLF occupied for at least 20 minutes and then it was time to get on the Amstel. A hearty brunch and additions to our party assembled, including Trevor who had successfully defeated and removed the rodent, we were off to Welling via Charing Cross.

Brunched and ready for Welling

Brunched and ready for Welling


The first pub you come across when you approach Welling High Street from the train station is The Plough and Harrow and my advice dear reader, would be, in the immortal words of Dionne Warwick, just walk on by. It might have had bacon fries. It might have had a random atlas on the fireplace and they might have put the Winter Olympics on the TV so we could see GB win gold. But it’s not what TLF would call homely. That might be down to the draft cider that didn’t actually taste like cider. Or it might have been the punter who, when he wasn’t shouting c u next Tuesday into his phone was glaring at the invading Saints fans. We didn’t stay for a second round.
Bacon fries do not a good pub make

Bacon fries do not a good pub make

The Nag’s Head served Amstel, grasped the concept of cleanliness and also contained a Phil who had skipped the London bit of the adventure. Precision timing, you won’t be surprised to hear, wasn’t quite the priority it had been by this point but are our eyes were sufficiently fixed on kick off or at least the chance to check out what Welling’s bar had to offer.

Two floors as it turned out. What a stroke of genius. One bar too busy, pop up the stairs to the other one. The other innovative feature was unisex loos by the top floor bar. Slightly confusing for your average TLF who has been drinking since 10.49am.

Only one of those beers is mine I promise

Only one of those beers is mine I promise

Warning. This pre-match jollity will not be sustained.

Warning. This pre-match jollity will not be sustained.


Some bonhomie with the gathered troops and it was time for kick off. What could possibly go wrong?

Quite a lot as it turns out. Pessimistic mutterings, after a goalless first half, about not making possession count proved prophetic. Saints took the lead, promptly let Welling equalise and then let them score two more. Still Zac won golden goal (although if there was VAR for gambling we would have been calling for it) and I managed to nick two of his chips. Biggest result of the afternoon.

Some days it is all about the journey. And the company. And the beer. And definitely NOT the football.

Fullers Fox

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