Hoist with their own petard
Oct. 5th, 2008 12:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mistletoeI love that phrase. Anyhoo, not yet on top of my game but feeling much much better today; almost torpid rather than comatose in fact.
Busy, busy, busy yesterday as the mater and I went on a trip to Newcastle. This involved: driving to the Metrocentre and leaving the car there; getting a bus from there to Newcastle; looking at some shops, specifically Lakeland so my mam could get some vanilla extract, not the cheap-o weak essence stuff but the extract which is much more powerful, requires less and is more expensive: £5.50 a bottle; then have something to eat and get the bus back. before driving back.
All went smoothly, vanilla purchased, lunch of maxi giant chicken, fried egg and blt club sandwich enjoyed. Walk round TK Maxx and purchase of small frying pan achieved, pouring rain survived until we joined the bus queue. It was surprisingly lengthy for a service that runs every 10 minutes. We waited, and waited, and waited. No sign of a bus. Others for places we didn't want to go arrived with annoying frequency but no sign of ours.
The queue extended further down the path and into Old Eldon Square. People gave up and got taxis. We contemplated ringing my dad to say we would be late. Finally, after about 45 minutes, just as we got my mam's phone out, the bus arrived. We forgot it was Great North Run weekend and the Junior run was on Saturday, so roads had been closed. Anyway, we were near enough the front to get a seat and finally rolled into the Metrocentre at 4.15.
I rang my dad as we got off the bus to say we were setting off now. Of course we were just at the rush hour for leaving the Metrocentre so we sat for another half an hour in the queue in the car park to get off the top floor. Once we got onto the ramp things went at speed and we were on the road in five minutes. By this time the football traffic was also emerging but we made it all the way back down the motorway with barel;y a hold up. Then we saw two accidents within a mile of each other: one at the bottom of Houghton market place which involved two cars that had made a nasty mess of each other; the other attended by four police cars though we couldn't see much damage to that one. Finally got home just after 7. What an epic.
Good result yesterday for the lads and it could have been better. We defended like Trojans for all the match, got a brilliant goal in the 86th minute and then, wouldn't you know it, they equallised in the 94th minute. Oi! That's our trick. Anyway, Roy was pleased with the effort. The lad that scored, Grant Leadbitter a local lad, had just come on the pitch a minute before he scored and was so emotional about it he ran to the manager at the edge of the pitch, collapsed and cried. It was great. So was the goal: a shot from 25 yards that hit the underside of the crossbar and went into the roof of the net with Almunia well beaten on the line.
e.t.a. Grant's dad died in the summer and Keano gave him time off to deal. His dad's ashes are scattered at pitchside, near where he ran to to dedicate that goal to his dad. Poignant or what?
Their goal was from yet another corner. Gordon came out wanting to relieve the pressure but got nowhere near and Fabregas headed in. They had already had one disallowed when the assistant referee said the ball had gone out of play before Walcott crossed it. Looked dubious to me but you couldn't really tell. Anyway, the linesman was sure.
Busy, busy, busy yesterday as the mater and I went on a trip to Newcastle. This involved: driving to the Metrocentre and leaving the car there; getting a bus from there to Newcastle; looking at some shops, specifically Lakeland so my mam could get some vanilla extract, not the cheap-o weak essence stuff but the extract which is much more powerful, requires less and is more expensive: £5.50 a bottle; then have something to eat and get the bus back. before driving back.
All went smoothly, vanilla purchased, lunch of maxi giant chicken, fried egg and blt club sandwich enjoyed. Walk round TK Maxx and purchase of small frying pan achieved, pouring rain survived until we joined the bus queue. It was surprisingly lengthy for a service that runs every 10 minutes. We waited, and waited, and waited. No sign of a bus. Others for places we didn't want to go arrived with annoying frequency but no sign of ours.
The queue extended further down the path and into Old Eldon Square. People gave up and got taxis. We contemplated ringing my dad to say we would be late. Finally, after about 45 minutes, just as we got my mam's phone out, the bus arrived. We forgot it was Great North Run weekend and the Junior run was on Saturday, so roads had been closed. Anyway, we were near enough the front to get a seat and finally rolled into the Metrocentre at 4.15.
I rang my dad as we got off the bus to say we were setting off now. Of course we were just at the rush hour for leaving the Metrocentre so we sat for another half an hour in the queue in the car park to get off the top floor. Once we got onto the ramp things went at speed and we were on the road in five minutes. By this time the football traffic was also emerging but we made it all the way back down the motorway with barel;y a hold up. Then we saw two accidents within a mile of each other: one at the bottom of Houghton market place which involved two cars that had made a nasty mess of each other; the other attended by four police cars though we couldn't see much damage to that one. Finally got home just after 7. What an epic.
Good result yesterday for the lads and it could have been better. We defended like Trojans for all the match, got a brilliant goal in the 86th minute and then, wouldn't you know it, they equallised in the 94th minute. Oi! That's our trick. Anyway, Roy was pleased with the effort. The lad that scored, Grant Leadbitter a local lad, had just come on the pitch a minute before he scored and was so emotional about it he ran to the manager at the edge of the pitch, collapsed and cried. It was great. So was the goal: a shot from 25 yards that hit the underside of the crossbar and went into the roof of the net with Almunia well beaten on the line.
e.t.a. Grant's dad died in the summer and Keano gave him time off to deal. His dad's ashes are scattered at pitchside, near where he ran to to dedicate that goal to his dad. Poignant or what?
Their goal was from yet another corner. Gordon came out wanting to relieve the pressure but got nowhere near and Fabregas headed in. They had already had one disallowed when the assistant referee said the ball had gone out of play before Walcott crossed it. Looked dubious to me but you couldn't really tell. Anyway, the linesman was sure.
