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Aug. 26th, 2008 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eiffel_71Arrived early at Westleigh Park for the Hawk girls' friendly with Reading Royals and was promptly conscripted by Trevor into being turnstile man for the evening. It went off OK - there was just one family who didn't seem too happy at paying £1 each for their two kids (adults were £2) and gave me evils whenever they saw me in the stadium during the match and half-time - though I was uneasy about Trevor making my turnstile the one and only way into or out of the ground, as one Reading girl with crutches had a little difficulty getting through and whenever any players or officials wanted to pop outside they had to climb over the stile. As Jo said when she climbed over, "Hope I don't get injured here."
Thankfully I was allowed to shut up shop at kick-off and take my seat in the stand. Hawks were 1-0 up at half-time and had mostly dominated the match, but it hadn't been a classic game and when I saw Dick just before the teams came out for the second half he said he wasn't too happy with various aspects of the performance and that he'd laid into the girls - about which he was feeling guilty. His rocket had some effect as the girls added another four without reply, although, as Dick, who spent the second half sitting behind me, observed, they still rarely advanced beyond second gear. On hearing me cheer Chantelle with "Come on Sally," Dick told me "She likes that name, you know, but you're the only one who still calls her it."
Trev had promised me a "big Magners" after the game for my turnstile services, but in the clubhouse bar he was nowhere to be seen, so I had to buy my own drink. At least the club serve Kopparberg now *x*
Just when I thought my troubles with Vodafone were over, on the ferry home I found that the number 8 button on my phone no longer works. So another call to the doughnuts in their customer care centre beckons, and in the meantime I am unable to dial numbers not in my phone's memory that have 8s in them, or send any text message containing the letter T, U or V.
And I wish my father would just fuck off and die.
Thankfully I was allowed to shut up shop at kick-off and take my seat in the stand. Hawks were 1-0 up at half-time and had mostly dominated the match, but it hadn't been a classic game and when I saw Dick just before the teams came out for the second half he said he wasn't too happy with various aspects of the performance and that he'd laid into the girls - about which he was feeling guilty. His rocket had some effect as the girls added another four without reply, although, as Dick, who spent the second half sitting behind me, observed, they still rarely advanced beyond second gear. On hearing me cheer Chantelle with "Come on Sally," Dick told me "She likes that name, you know, but you're the only one who still calls her it."
Trev had promised me a "big Magners" after the game for my turnstile services, but in the clubhouse bar he was nowhere to be seen, so I had to buy my own drink. At least the club serve Kopparberg now *x*
Just when I thought my troubles with Vodafone were over, on the ferry home I found that the number 8 button on my phone no longer works. So another call to the doughnuts in their customer care centre beckons, and in the meantime I am unable to dial numbers not in my phone's memory that have 8s in them, or send any text message containing the letter T, U or V.
And I wish my father would just fuck off and die.
