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Aug. 2nd, 2008 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eiffel_71
Down to Lewes today for another pre-season friendly. As it's Gay Pride weekend, the train to Brighton was ramjam with people going there - the sight of a group of men with fairy wings on (exactly the same type as the two mad women at the Festival wore!), plus a guy in a yellow tutu, was a source of amusement for some of the travelling Hawk following. On hearing one of the Gay Pride attendees exclaim "Let's fucking do this shit!" as he stepped onto the platform at Brighton, a couple of our number adopted that as their catchphrase for the day.
Mark, Simon and some others ventured out into Brighton in search of an open pub, though they'd been told there wouldn't be many - Mark got some ribbing that with his pink polo shirt on he'd be taken for a GP attendee - while the rest of us headed straight for Lewes. Spud led us to a takeaway where I had a pretty decent Doner kebab, then we found a street corner pub and passed an hour and a half there. As I was buying a 'Black Rat' cider, Mark, who'd just arrived in Lewes, came up behind me at the bar and said "Real cider rots your brain, you know. You'll end up like the Wurzels."
Relentless banter was again the order of the day. Hayley having admitted she fancies Rocky Baptiste was a continual theme. Malc related how someone asked if he'd be running a coach today, he said with spirit "I told him 'course not, it's just a pre-season friendly," then pointed to me and added "This doughnut phoned me and asked if I was doing a trip to East Preston!" Guilty as charged.
The banter continued all through the match (at half-time I got more ribbing for my support of the Netherlands, including a revival of my '[my first name] van de [my surname]-khof' nickname) since there was little of note to see on the pitch. But we won, 1-0, thanks to Ian Simpemba getting in the way of a clearance - the ball hit him plumb in the chops and rebounded off the post and into the net. When someone phoned Barry to ask how we were doing he said "We've just gone 1-0 up. Ian Simpemba, bullet header." During the closing minutes, after Rocky had been subsituted, Hayley, with her young son Dylan, legged it down to pitchside to talk to him and was subjected to a barrage of innuendo from Malc, including "There's a fence there you can go behind" and "Hey Dylan, you know three's a crowd". When Rocky, in his warming-down exercises, did knee bends, Malc shouted "You don't have to go down on one knee, she's not that short" (Hayley is a bit on the vertically challenged side). I chipped in "Perhaps he's asking her to marry him."
Went round to Ness's this evening to meet up with her and Jade. We all played a game Ness had picked up cheap last Christmas, 'Tumbledown', where you have to pull plastic strips out of a pile and rebalance them on the top - the person who causes the pile to tumble down loses and has to rebuild the pile for next game. Great laugh, though I seemed to collapse the pile quite a lot; Ness had a good technique and only lost once (when I lost three times in a row, the third time she graciously rebuilt for me). Then we just talked about this and that with music in the background until I said my goodbyes as I have an early start tomorrow.
'Night folks.
Mark, Simon and some others ventured out into Brighton in search of an open pub, though they'd been told there wouldn't be many - Mark got some ribbing that with his pink polo shirt on he'd be taken for a GP attendee - while the rest of us headed straight for Lewes. Spud led us to a takeaway where I had a pretty decent Doner kebab, then we found a street corner pub and passed an hour and a half there. As I was buying a 'Black Rat' cider, Mark, who'd just arrived in Lewes, came up behind me at the bar and said "Real cider rots your brain, you know. You'll end up like the Wurzels."
Relentless banter was again the order of the day. Hayley having admitted she fancies Rocky Baptiste was a continual theme. Malc related how someone asked if he'd be running a coach today, he said with spirit "I told him 'course not, it's just a pre-season friendly," then pointed to me and added "This doughnut phoned me and asked if I was doing a trip to East Preston!" Guilty as charged.
The banter continued all through the match (at half-time I got more ribbing for my support of the Netherlands, including a revival of my '[my first name] van de [my surname]-khof' nickname) since there was little of note to see on the pitch. But we won, 1-0, thanks to Ian Simpemba getting in the way of a clearance - the ball hit him plumb in the chops and rebounded off the post and into the net. When someone phoned Barry to ask how we were doing he said "We've just gone 1-0 up. Ian Simpemba, bullet header." During the closing minutes, after Rocky had been subsituted, Hayley, with her young son Dylan, legged it down to pitchside to talk to him and was subjected to a barrage of innuendo from Malc, including "There's a fence there you can go behind" and "Hey Dylan, you know three's a crowd". When Rocky, in his warming-down exercises, did knee bends, Malc shouted "You don't have to go down on one knee, she's not that short" (Hayley is a bit on the vertically challenged side). I chipped in "Perhaps he's asking her to marry him."
Went round to Ness's this evening to meet up with her and Jade. We all played a game Ness had picked up cheap last Christmas, 'Tumbledown', where you have to pull plastic strips out of a pile and rebalance them on the top - the person who causes the pile to tumble down loses and has to rebuild the pile for next game. Great laugh, though I seemed to collapse the pile quite a lot; Ness had a good technique and only lost once (when I lost three times in a row, the third time she graciously rebuilt for me). Then we just talked about this and that with music in the background until I said my goodbyes as I have an early start tomorrow.
'Night folks.
