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Three Lions on a Shirt

“Don’t mention the war. I mentioned it once but I think I got away with it.”

No, no, Leo old friend, you misunderstand! I’m not getting inebriated because of an England win: I’m getting inebriated before, during and after an England win. Do you see the difference? The England win is not the cause, it’s an added bonus.

On Tuesday night, England played Ukraine, with a place in the quarter finals at stake. I met my friends Dave, Neil and Neall in Koi, a bar round the corner from us in Banks Road (didn’t exist when you lived over here).

Unbeknownst to me, but clearly beknownst to an awful lot of local youngsters on a budget, the bar had a deal on: all pints half price during every England game until the first goal is scored. This led to one memorable exchange:-

Young lad: “What’s your cheapest pint?”

Girl behind bar: “Becks”

Young lad: “How many pints can I get for twenty quid?”

Girl behind bar: “Twelve”

Young lad: “Twelve pints of Becks please!”

Bless his little cotton socks. Well, I’m assuming young folk still wear socks. Maybe I’ll look next time, if I think on.

Wayne Rooney scored, with a header that even I could have finished. Ukraine scored but the referee didn’t think it had crossed the line so didn’t give it. We won 1-0.

So another famous, albeit unexpected, England victory, meaning we top our group (wouldn’t have bet on that before the competition started) and now get to play Italy for a place in (the dizzying heights of) the semi-finals. Where we will no doubt, unless Greece pull off something miraculous, face Germany.

Always bleedin’ Germany.

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What a lovely pair of knockers!

Knockers, don’t you just love them? Big ones. Small ones. Rusty round ones screwed to a large wooden door…

It’s a Saturday afternoon, the weather outside is damp and grey. I’m working behind the counter of the local electrical shop, feeling a little jaded from the night before. England played Sweden last night in their second game of the Euro 2012 football tournament. We won. We celebrated. I fell asleep fully dressed. You know how it is.

So here I am, killing time for the minimum wage (it works out at roughly two pints of Carlsberg Export, give or take a small packet of crisps), trying to think of something halfway amusing and failing miserably.

Ten years ago, when I was a wage slave to Her Majesty The Queen (Betty to her close friends), I may well have been at work this time on a Saturday. Overtime. Double the hourly rate of pay. Paid travelling time. Goodness knows how many pints per hour that equated to: possibly a whole evenings worth. Back in the days when work was still almost fun. Til some pocket-sized Hitler took over the running of the office.

But that’s a story for another day.

Back to normality

Not sure if I like this new fabric conditioner the wife’s started using…

Well thank goodness that’s all over! Really couldn’t face another drunken afternoon evening night early morning of frivolity and mayhem in celebration of Her Maj being still alive and kicking. I’m seriously all frivolled out.

But it’s been memorable. I don’t recall where we were ten years ago, for the 50th Jubilee, but I’m sure to remember this one. Is Canada still part of the Commonwealth? Did you raise a glass over there? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not royalist in the slightest, just any excuse for a party and a sing-song.

I’m looking forward to getting back to normal. I’m feeling pretty positive on the music front at the moment, what with all the gigs I’ve played and the positive feedback I’ve received from folk re my own songs. I may have some bookings for Christmas at some big Cheshire country pile through having played the street party in Caldy, which is encouraging. Really need to get the business cards and website sorted and start being a little more proactive. Even just a little bit proactive would be a start – I’m normally pro-inactive.

Mind you, Euro 2012 has just kicked off, so I might get distracted by that depending on how well England do. What would be great is if the weather perked up a bit (well, a lot coz it’s really pretty miserable outside at the moment) and England progressed a bit further than the norm. Remember Euro 96 when we got to the semis? Actually, I’m not sure if I do, but I’m sure I’d have had a smashing time…

Wide awake in Wekka.

Liverpool waterfront. This picture looks like one of those “artists impressions” – it’s not.

Five o’clock in the morning. I’ve been awake since two. I would say wide awake, but I’m not wide awake. Just awake. Narrowly awake.

This has become a regular occurence. I wonder if it’s an age thing? Or to do with the fact that my brain doesn’t get much exercise these days and so doesn’t need as much rest?

In days gone by, this sleeplessness would really bug me. I guess if I still had to get up for work, I’d be lying there cursing. But since I am currently a man of leisure, I think “oh well, I can go back to bed later if need be”. Not that I ever do.

It’s kinda strange though, isn’t it, when you’re up and about hours before the rest of your “world”? I could get dressed, go out for a walk for an hour, come back home, and see no other signs of life apart from the odd milkman. Remember the odd milkman?

I think I’ll go lie down and shut my eyes instead.