Another lost weekend!

At the start of the season the newly re-laid playing surface at El Cherrio resembled that of Portman Road in it's prime.

After the final whistle on Saturday it resembled a ploughed muddy field.


Photo by Panther Studio http://www.pantherstudio.co.uk/

Boro were a little unlucky to go in 1 nil down at half time and could easily have been 2 or 3 goals to the good had it not been for the opposition keeper. Whatever hopes they had of playing themselves back into the game were dashed by a half time downpour on an already waterlogged pitch and despite having all the play were unable to save the game and, having gone 2 nil down following a poor goal kick from the home keeper, were left to rue the woodwork and a penalty ballooned over the stand.

A disappointing result following on from three back to back victories in which they had scored 13 goals and only conceded two.

Earlier in the week I came across this website with some, for once, interesting Football League statistics:

http://www.footballbynumbers.co.uk/entertainers.html

I mention this as I had received word from the Welsh Bard that he and his brother-in-law Harry had tickets for the Swansea versus Ipswich game on the Saturday.

I was immediately able to point out to him the following information:

The team in the football league (level 1 – 7) with the best goals per game is indeed FFC with 2.56.

Ipswich, however, with a goals per game ratio of 1.08 are in 180th place and Swansea, with only 0.85, just off the bottom in 214th place.

Backing this up with the fact that in the table for the worst goals per game ratio (both ends), also known as “The Where Not to Purchase a Season Ticket League“, Swansea were runaway leaders with only 1.64, and therefore advised him to take the Times, the Telegraph and the Guardian for the first half and a good book for the second.

Now I didn’t get where I am today by being right all the time but the game predictably finished up nil nil. Here's a brief report his excursion in to enemy territory from the Welsh Bard:

"But what is there to say? I didn’t get where I am today criticising a lack of basic skills (a phrase I learned where, I wonder) but there were none on display in Swansea on Saturday. Certainly not on the field of play – which, was, as it happened a very nice one – nor in the pubs of a city whose grimness I’d forgotten. I’ve been in and out of Swansea (where no Baltzer genes were spotted, incidentally) since I was a kid, when it was still a mess after the Luftwaffe had taken issue with a Glamorgan victory at St Helens. Sixty odd years later, the place still looks as if the city fathers haven’t quite decided how to rebuild it.

Out of curiosity, H and I walked as far as the Vetch, which is still intact (hereabouts, Ninian Park already has residents who wake each day to the remains of the Canton Stand!) and that was a Bad Idea. In need of sustenance, we entered a pub H thought would be ok. Wrong – and, as you know, he’s rarely wrong in such delicate matters. Negotiating a drink proved interesting “Two pints of – oh, have you got only Speckled Hen?” I asked, spotting the preponderance of lager pumps. “Bit strong,” I said, “I’ll have a Guinness, please.”

“Sorry, butt, the nozzle’s broken,” came the reply, and H and I had two pints of dreadful Hen, before retreating to an equally grotty boozer. And it’s not as if we’d asked for the Palace/City game or anything equally provocative! After which the game itself was predictably – by you, and most of the Cardiff-based ITFC fans (yes, we do exist in small numbers) – dreadful, so I’ll say no more about it, as I certainly don’t to want to relive it, thanks very much!

I went home and had more fun with my pals at the India Gate. You’ll recall the incident in which the common nature of my surname featured strongly. Bernadette made sure to mention this possible problem when she rang the order through, and I was greeted royally. In fact, in echoes of the afternoon, I was seen out the door with a chorus of “There’s only one Paul Evans!”

After the football Janice and I were out on another birthday celebration. Following on from the birthday of the landlady of the Fox two weeks earlier, this time it was the turn of her partner Mick. Just three couples, two less than on the previous celebration, set out for a Spanish evening in a tapas bar in Camberley. After an average, overpriced meal we returned to the local, slightly worse for wear, for a night cap.

As you all know, in the immortal words of Danny Baker, “There is no such thing as the one” and the time that we stumbled out of the pub has been a matter of some debate but thought to be sometime between 3 and 4 a.m. The actual time we got to bed is somewhat further confused by the clocks moving forward.

Unfortunately what didn’t move forward was the fact that I had to work in about 2 hours after I got to bed. Yes I should have got it out of the way on Saturday morning but I didn’t get where I am today by doing that which can be put off until tomorrow.

If I hadn’t realised before this weekend I am now fully aware that I am definitely too old for all this.

Back to the serious business of gardening and now that BST is with us and Spring is just about springing, I am sure you will all be ready for action in the garden over the coming Easter week-end. In the next entry I will continue with the theme of biodynamic gardening and explain how to get the best from your plants by following the phases of the moon.

In the meantime this will help you “toon up".