Tuesday, March 11, 2008

March 11th

Up early and down to Worley's with the car. I wait for an hour, and share the waiting room with a pretty young girl wearing the sexiest pair of granny boots. The job is done, and there is no paperwork, or in fact anything to be done other than drive the car away with a new exhausts. Top marks from a garage which hasn't always earned them in the past.
Over to Watford to meet L, another semi intensive course. After last week's debacle, I approach with some trepidation. First impressions are good. She is prettyish (though it turns out she thinks she's very pretty), and well built, and I mean well built. within five minutes she is talking about wearing a low cut top on her test, and half an hour later suggesting we stop in the pub for a drink. I only think she is joking! She is a very blokish driver, doing everything in a hurry, and I have to slow her down, but she responds well and sensibly. Apparently her dad is a premiership ref, so presmuably full of shit!!!!!! She is fun though, and it should be a good week.
Back to Wycombe to pick up S for his second test. At first he drives like a bag of cats, but he settles down, and really he should be capable of passing the test.
He goes out with F again, and I stay and chat to B and J, though she is strangely uncommunicative. the time drags by until the little red car hoves once more into view.
It doesn't look good, but the debrief is very rapid.
F gets out of the car. "Give him a smack" he says
A review of the form explains why. He drove really well, 5 silly minors, BUT......and it's a big but.
One dangerous. he fucked up the traffic lights at the Pastures. Silly lad, and he is kicking himself. I feel for him. He's a nice guy with a little lad who is not all that well, and he really needs this licence. Third time lucky?
I run Sophie down to town. She is working in Pumpkin Patch every day this week. I worry that she will burn out, but one can't help but admire her.
I arrive home and discover that the bunny has been roaming free through the house all day, shitting everywhere, and at the mercy of two killer moggies. The odd thing is that the eternal scaredy cat Elsa, keeps trying to beat him up, whilst the serial rodent killer Kip runs a mile every time he meets him.
The gale keeps threatening but never really sustains itself for very long. A shame in a way. There is something comforting about being indoors in the teeth of the storm.
Ask D if he fancies Wycombe Wanderers, and to my surprise he says yes, the proviso (of course) being that Jamie can come along. This is soon arranged, and we troop down to Adams Park for the encounter with Wrexham. It's a dire game enlivened by one very good goal. Chairboys go two up, and then in the second half fWrexham pull one back, we get a guy sent off, and it's back to the wall from then on. They somehow survive, meaning the play offs now look good, with an outside chance of automatic promotion.
I chat to Alan, who of course is there. There doesn't seem to be the sense of excitement that there was in the days of the conference and the early seasons in the league. The crowds have dwindled. If the three of us hadn't have gone tonight, they wouldn't have cracked 4000. The quoted crowd was 4002! The game was drab, the crowd spread thinly. A young guy on a drum gets some enthusiasm from the faithful, but there is none of the "crest of a wave" feeling that I remember from what is now far to long ago for comfort.
Leeds lose at home to Cheltenham, so I can taunt my text friend Richard. The ideal set of results. Leeds could still make their play offs, but their form is poor and I just sense a loss of momentum. Accordingly the meeting with which I have been taunting him, that of Leeds and Wycombe as equals, seems more thanm just a possibility.

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