There's many things you can't disguise, your lovely young lips and your neon eyes

Sunday Morning:

Never my favourite day. But feeling impressively not-hungover. Sun is shining in through the windows. Can't be bad.

Yesterday was my yearly 'home game' as the mighty blues came to the Valley. Always excellent fun as the Antigallican pub on the way to ground is invaded by blues and we have a good old sing song.

TODAYS AMAZING FACT:

Anti gallican means anti-french. It dates back to the Napeolic war when soldiers would come back from fighting and open up a pub with their pay. There used to be lots of pubs called Antigallican, but this is now the last one in London.

(me? I thought it was Antigallician and actually some anti spanish thing. It was only when Duffers pointed out the dartboard was spelt differently that I had a rethink)

There were a few young scallys in there who will've had a headache by the end of the match but fortunately no major trashings.

We wandered into the ground, quite a pleasant one really, nice and compact. Had our food (sadly southerners don't understand a slice is not as good as a pie) and watched one of the the most tedious games I've ever seen (our first 0.0 in 53 matches). The only amusement for me was my unwavering shouts in support of the blundering Dickie Wright. I have never seen a goalkeeper inspire so much fear in his own defence.

By the time I got home after six pints I felt a night out was beyond me......