3.6.07
In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade. And he carries the reminders of every blow that laid him down, and cut him, until he cried out, in his anger and his shame: "I am leaving, I am leaving," but the fighter still remains.
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Athletics today. We started off sat by the fence, you know, nice spot, bit of shade, dry ground, that kind of thing. And then the East Cheshire lot arrived. That should be the point where you start with that kind of weird music you get when the evil guy comes on stage in films.
They had brought, to watch one girl run:
- 2 parents
- 4 grandparents
- 3 aunties
- 1 uncle
- 7 wooden deck chairs
- 3 wooden picnic tables
- and the biggest picnic you have ever seen.
So, they sit down, and manage to set everything out so that it's basically on top of us. And then all their friends arrive, and keep wandering over, leaning over me to talk to the deck-chair people. So I just spent the day feeling crushed and annoyed.
Of course, the really annoying thing was that the girl was actually pretty crap. She was high jumping, and she kept basically sitting into the bar. She just about managed 1:10. So the whole family starts going on about how she needs some proper coaching, and they do sessions at Sportcity. Only problem is, she has to reach a PB of 1:60 first. Now, there is absolutely no way she is ever going to manage that, but this family are convinced she is.
Then she does 800m, comes 3rd, and gets a fairly decent time, about 2:47. Only, it starts off at 2:47, and gets faster as the day gets on. By the time they left, it was about 2:25. I mean, what's all that about? There's an official sheet gets handed in, so they're not kidding anyone. Seems daft really, but maybe I'm the weird one here.
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You said you'd never compromise with the mystery tramp, but now you realise, he's not selling any alibis. As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes, and ask him do you want to make a deal?
In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade. And he carries the reminders of every blow that laid him down, and cut him, until he cried out, in his anger and his shame: "I am leaving, I am leaving," but the fighter still remains.
--------------
Athletics today. We started off sat by the fence, you know, nice spot, bit of shade, dry ground, that kind of thing. And then the East Cheshire lot arrived. That should be the point where you start with that kind of weird music you get when the evil guy comes on stage in films.
They had brought, to watch one girl run:
- 2 parents
- 4 grandparents
- 3 aunties
- 1 uncle
- 7 wooden deck chairs
- 3 wooden picnic tables
- and the biggest picnic you have ever seen.
So, they sit down, and manage to set everything out so that it's basically on top of us. And then all their friends arrive, and keep wandering over, leaning over me to talk to the deck-chair people. So I just spent the day feeling crushed and annoyed.
Of course, the really annoying thing was that the girl was actually pretty crap. She was high jumping, and she kept basically sitting into the bar. She just about managed 1:10. So the whole family starts going on about how she needs some proper coaching, and they do sessions at Sportcity. Only problem is, she has to reach a PB of 1:60 first. Now, there is absolutely no way she is ever going to manage that, but this family are convinced she is.
Then she does 800m, comes 3rd, and gets a fairly decent time, about 2:47. Only, it starts off at 2:47, and gets faster as the day gets on. By the time they left, it was about 2:25. I mean, what's all that about? There's an official sheet gets handed in, so they're not kidding anyone. Seems daft really, but maybe I'm the weird one here.
--------------
You said you'd never compromise with the mystery tramp, but now you realise, he's not selling any alibis. As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes, and ask him do you want to make a deal?
