I’d managed to grab a couple of hours sleep, before getting the bus into town.
“Not one of those though”
Once on the bus, I remembered I hadn’t remembered my earphones, thankfully I had enough time to go and buy another set, and have a quick half in the Post Office Vaults, before getting the train.
“Not so much a flood of cancellations, as a cancellation due to a flood”
The train was 12 minutes late arriving into Brum, no matter, they’d make up the minutes, nope, trespassing near Northampton, meant a diversion, and we were even later by the time we got into Euston, 45 minutes later. I met Ian in the Euston Tap, and we chatted about Union life, before we headed down to London Bridge on the tube. Southwark Tavern was a new one for both of us, a pub that caters for the tourist trade, but not bad. We’d looked at a couple of pubs on the Whatpub app, but ended up at The Rake anyway, after all, we both knew how good the place was, and the two others, were only if we’d passed them on the way. We got talking to a couple young Millwall fans about our current plights, passing the time before Steve joined us. Ian had a 15% bourbon stout, but in Ian’s world, as he only had a 3rd, it was only 5%, there is a sense to his belief, even if it is wrong. Steve’s staying down in London with his missus until after the QPR game on Saturday, being retired, he’s able to do that sort of thing, each day is a day closer to my own retirement, but I’m sure they’re sneaking extra days in somehow. We moved on to The Bunch of Grapes, a place that had bouncers on. Usually when a place has bouncers on the door, it’s not that good a pub, but we were all pleasantly surprised, the ale range wasn’t bad, well kept, and the music was good too. If it hadn’t have been for the match, I could’ve stayed in there longer, we got the train the short distance to South Bermondsey, and keeping with tradition, we missed kickoff.
I wasn’t expecting much from this game, the intricate passing we were producing earlier on in the season, has been replaced by something more dogmatic, and Mi wa are managed by Gary Rowett.
“A ground as boring as the football that’s played there”
Rowett has found a system that shrinks a full size pitch to a 5-A side one, and the ball finds more imaginatively ways of hiding, it’s the only thing that is imaginative, I only wish predicting the numbers on the lottery was as easy as predicting Rowett football, the football that Clotets team is producing is fast becoming just as boring and predictable. I know we’re picking more points up with it, but I’m not being entertained by it in the slightest. I should be more contented, but I work all week in a factory on minimum wage, and watching football is expensive, I want to watch football that I haven’t the talent to produce, or at least see attempted, not something regimented that causes me to reach for my phone, or programme for something to pass the time with, trying to ignore that I really can’t vindicate the expenditure. I’ll tell you now, that it was 0:0, I’ll also tell you that the only thing that happened of note, was Pedersen’s swivel and finish high in the net that was chalked off for a made up reason by the ref. We got one look at it, everyone who couldn’t be bothered to make the trip down, but still wanted to feel a part of it, by contacting ones they knew at the game, and had the luxury of warmth, comfort and replays on their TV’s, relayed the news that the goal should’ve stood. Oh, and Kieftenbeld replaced Bellingham who had played the full 90 minutes v Sheffield Wednesday, and was looking tired, it was the Dutchman’s first game after his lengthy injury. Hopefully, Rowett was impressed, and will come back in the summer to sign him for Millwall. Kieftenbeld is a whole hearted player, but in possession of extremely limited ability, but I wouldn’t say that it was something of note, more a scribbled reminder on a yellow post it.
We got split up on the train back to London Bridge, where I saw Dave Moyna, Steph, Justin and little Seeley, saying Hello and T’ra to them, walking on, I caught up with Steve and Ian, before getting the tube, Ian, as he stops down in London during the week, got off at Bank to get a connection back to his flat, Steve got off further up the line to head back to his hotel, getting off at Euston, I had enough time to have a last pint in the Euston Tap, where Clacker and his lads came in, before grabbing something to eat on the train back. New headphones in, sleep caught up with me. I forlornly hoped that I would make the last bus home, and although I could’ve got a taxi, as the last bus had long gone by the time we got back to Brum, I walked back home.