With the temperature well and truly plunged, wrapping up warm was compulsory, unless you were a millennial Geordie on a night out on the toon of course. I visited New Street station to get tickets for upcoming trips, and whilst trying to purchase the right SD card to give my phone some memory and the ability to function better than its owner, found out that all three things are now obsolete. I half expected to see Jinksy already in the Wellington, fresh from his self imposed prohibition, as he wasn’t, it was clear that on the stroke of midnight, as January turned into February, Jinksy returned to the land of the living. I know it’s supposed to do you good in the physical sense, but the mental torture you drag yourself through, isn’t worth it in my eyes. Pete and Steve were on our usual table, as J.K. Darrell, a pale Jinksy, and Paul filed in. I had woken up during the week, to a text confirming what we all suspected, that the Baggies away game had been moved for Sky, thankfully and luckily for us ale trailers, it’s been moved to the Friday evening, Paul had already come up with an attractive itinerary. Q.P.R. away has plummeted to the depths of Blackburn away, as a place that is enjoyable to go to, and a growing band of us, will be off via Gravesend, to watch the Moors at Ebbsfleet, the itinerary for that day was chatted about, before hush was called for by Paul, who announced the official results of last year’s death list, with a creditable two points, for Doug Ellis and Dennis Norden, Jinksy was presented with a little black coffin shaped box, holding a confirmation certificate, we applauded, and speculated on this year. We hit the trail to the Head of Steam, where amongst the selection, I spotted a first for me, a cider collaboration between Hogan’s and Tiny Rebel, I’d seen beer collaborations before, but not cider, with Spoons doing what he does, and his liking of cider, I broached him on the subject, it turns out that he not only doesn’t like collaborations, he’s suspicious of them, he’s much wiser than me, a lot less trusting, (Gullible, in terms of me) Kilda was the next place to suffer from our custom, Craig and his lady were in there, I really have got to start remembering people’s names, along with an enormous amount of things I dislike, and find excruciating irritating about myself, the total inability to remember something as simple as someone’s name, is a personal disgrace, as is the growing embarrassment of not being able to spell someone’s name correctly in this bilge, for instance, I haven’t been using the correct number of ‘N’s in Gav’s Dad’s name, idiots like me are who name badges were really designed for, (Hangs head in shame) Craig’s lady had suffered reading this absolute rubbish, and had noted the term ‘Zulu’, and had asked Craig about it, I launched into an explanation of origination, and after following every tangent that raises its head, another trait I dislike about myself (See? There I go again, I just can’t help myself) I’m sure she ended up being even more in the dark, than when I started the simple explanation. I could probably take an hour to tell a ‘knock knock’ joke. I finally got a drink, threw it down my neck, left a now confused girl to Craig, and along with Mikey, Steve and the Blues Paul, we went off to Dig Brew, all the photographers exhibits had gone, which made the place feel bare again, but at least there was two cask ales on. Birdy’s crew came in, including Brynnnnn (Delete or add as many ‘N’s as you see fit) a Forrest supporting friend, was with them, and I got talking to him about Forrest, Blues and work. The time goblin had had his fingers on the hands of the clock again, moving it on, so it feels like an hour is ten minutes, mischievously doing the opposite during the week at work, making ten minutes feel like an hour. We split on the way up to the ground, as we’re in different stands, but not before Birdy exclaimed that he was going back to having skiing holidays.
Nottingham Forest is a club I like seeing Blues beat for various reasons, one a legacy from the Clough era, when they used to beat us on a regular basis, another, because L.J.s step-Dad’s a Forrest fan, before you start assuming it’s because he’s with my ex, it’s solely down to him only buying a season ticket when Forrest are in the Premier League, the sort of glory hunting behaviour I abhor, a football club is not just for the Premier League, It’s for life. The list of reasons has recently been added to, with the appointment of ex Vile manager, Martin O’Neill, assisted by Roy Keane, someone I’ve never liked, someone who I feel was an international class player, and a world class whinger, he might not play anymore, but it’s just meant he’s able to concentrate on whinging. Transfer deadline day passed with us turning down a number of bids for Che Adams, a transfer that in the close season, I would’ve welcomed, his performances, coupled with his goal return, have not only surprised me, but saw me spend the day on tender hooks, I wasn’t the only one. Jota on the other hand, is more of a Marmite type, had he gone, I would’ve been dissatisfied, Steve would’ve been happy to see him off loaded for less than we paid, most want a more consistent end product, Steve being one of them, I’ve seen enough of what he can do, and I can survive without frustration, between flashes of brilliance, a good finish from the Spanish fellow, vindicated my defence of him earlier in the Welly, Mags must’ve been given a course in how to slide tackle, during the week, as he made use of his newly acquired knowledge, at every opportunity. Except for Forrest hitting the post, where I thought it was going to be another one of those days, before Jota scored, we were quite comfortable, not bossing the game, but not being bossed either. I went to the Cookhouse at half-time, szechwan beef in a yellow bean sauce with egg fried rice, or something like that, either way, it was better than having a gravy pie. Second half saw the same as the first, but it did see more sliding tackles from Maghomma and the introduction of Isaac Vassell, before he got injured last millennium, or the millennium previous to that, I’ve wanted to see an example that he hadn’t mislaid his blistering pace, I got it. A through ball was fed through to him, I’d already given up on it, thinking that he wouldn’t get it, even if he hitched a ride with Lewis Hamilton in his Mercedes, forget the smugness I felt with Jota’s goal, the immense enjoyment I got seeing that pace of his, was immeasurable, as the games go by, and the rust gets ground and polished off, he’ll be the asset we’ve missed, and hoped would return, in fact, it was down to good work from him in the Forest penalty area, that led to an Adams goal bound shot that Benalouanne, believing that the referee had applied the ‘rush goalie’ rule, going into added time, handled on the line, a red card ending the Forest man’s day, the converted penalty ending the rest of his colleagues day.
I did quite fancy watching the 6 Nations game between Ireland and England in the Spotted Dog, but wasn’t confident that England would win, even less confident of getting a seat, Darrell text me to say they were heading to Dig Brew, not something I fancied doing, so I headed home.