So, S invites me to take up a spare ticket for Brighton's home match.
I don't support any team of any sport. I have a dabbling kind of interest in major competitions under certain circumstances. Nevertheless, I started watching live football around the age of five.
After a whistle-stop tour of the town (I'd never been there before) and lunch at a good pub we head off to the ground.
The last time I'd actually been to a match was when Bristol City was in league division one (in today's money, that's the Premiership) and Brighton's current home ground is far state-of-the-art (that comes next season) but on walking through the ground to take up our seats, I got a powerful sense that despite a different team at a different ground, football matches are somehow a universal constant.
S had been a little concerned that I was attending out of politeness - he needn't have worried. I had a whale of a time.
The football wasn't the best in the world but there were moments of sheer elegance. There was plenty of action and three actual goals and about four nearly ones.
According to the home crowd, the referee was of questionable parentage and visually impaired at that. It was also asserted that he got his ya-yas at his own hand. I can't really comment on the veracity of any of these statements - but he did seem to make a few school girl errors. Then again, I had a better vantage point than him so maybe I should cut him some slack.
I'd been warned that the regulars in the seats behind would be vocal in their opinions throughout the match - and this was certainly the case. If only all these people's opinion on the best way to arrange the team, or to press home the advantage were taken - surely the resulting squad would be near-perfect proponents of the craft. No?
You can argue that it's a fairly low, tribalistic form of entertainment but I have to say that the enthusiasm of fans for their chosen team is quite infectious.
Best of all is to hear about five thousand people crying "Oooooh!" in unison, with no conductor or instruction but as a visceral reflex at a chance made but not converted.
I'm not about to start watching regularly again but it was brilliant to be reminded of what being at a live game is about.
It was also a lovely reminder that there are things in your life that are largely unchanged by time and that despite changes in rules, and in styles and in the length of shorts, the spectators of a football are one of those things.
Thanks S, thanks MP and thanks Seagulls - it was fun
.
Monday 27 September 2010
Thursday 16 September 2010
Seasonal Shift
There's been a slight shift in the season.
Not enough to radically change things. Not enough to put the heating on.
Just enough to see me putting a jumper on from time to time.
A few days ago my winter coal delivery was made. Another waypoint in the year.
This evening I was supposed to be meeting friends in a pub in Bath. I was really looking forward to it - I haven't seen some of the guys for a couple of months and it was going to be nice to catch up over a pint or two...and maybe some camera talk.
But plans for tomorrow changed a bit during the day meaning I've got to be up super-early in the morning. Added to which I seem to have had a headache thing for four or five days and it's getting kinda annoying.
All in all, then, it's probably best to spend the evening in.
But the chill in the air is causing brisk draughts to fly around my Victorian house and it's one of those days when I just want to curl up somewhere cosy.
So, what's a gal to do? Light a fire, that's what.
It's more than warmth. It's glow and safety and comfort. It perfectly fits my slightly subdued mood.
I love the summer and I can still almost feel the warmth of sitting outside with a pint and a friend earlier in the year. But I'm relishing the move into autumn with its different light, its change in the colours outside.
In a couple of weeks when I hear the rain lashing on the window and I really don't want to run across to my garage to get some logs I might briefly yearn for sun and warmth and the ability to get by in a short sleeves, but the resulting fire will easily make up for the unpleasant 50 yard dash.
In short, the season I like best is the next one.
.
Not enough to radically change things. Not enough to put the heating on.
Just enough to see me putting a jumper on from time to time.
A few days ago my winter coal delivery was made. Another waypoint in the year.
This evening I was supposed to be meeting friends in a pub in Bath. I was really looking forward to it - I haven't seen some of the guys for a couple of months and it was going to be nice to catch up over a pint or two...and maybe some camera talk.
But plans for tomorrow changed a bit during the day meaning I've got to be up super-early in the morning. Added to which I seem to have had a headache thing for four or five days and it's getting kinda annoying.
All in all, then, it's probably best to spend the evening in.
But the chill in the air is causing brisk draughts to fly around my Victorian house and it's one of those days when I just want to curl up somewhere cosy.
So, what's a gal to do? Light a fire, that's what.
It's more than warmth. It's glow and safety and comfort. It perfectly fits my slightly subdued mood.
I love the summer and I can still almost feel the warmth of sitting outside with a pint and a friend earlier in the year. But I'm relishing the move into autumn with its different light, its change in the colours outside.
In a couple of weeks when I hear the rain lashing on the window and I really don't want to run across to my garage to get some logs I might briefly yearn for sun and warmth and the ability to get by in a short sleeves, but the resulting fire will easily make up for the unpleasant 50 yard dash.
In short, the season I like best is the next one.
.
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