September 3rd live footy on tv


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Transport has to be better than here in DH6, no railway links and where we live (rural idyll) one bus an hour, not that I ever use the buses like.
I live in a ruralish place
1 bus every 2 hrs
None after 6 pm & no Sunday service at all
My match days start & end with a £10 taxi to & from the nearest station- Battle then ( 2hrs to London - 50 odd miles:( )
Home games are worse, first train out of Battle too late for GC to S’land :(
 
It's not great in DH2. Son couldn't get to work by bus for a 10am start on a Sunday as the buses don't start running until after 11am, even though most of the shops in Chester open at 10am.
Afternoon Ginge, and afternoon all.

When I lived in Newton Hall, (DH1) in a previous life, the bus service to the centre of Durham, wasn't great on a Sunday.
It was often quicker to walk, from NH to the Dun Cow, in the city centre, than to hang around waiting for a bus. (I think the first bus into the centre, started at midday on a Sunday, iirc)
Afternoon all

Finished graft bored shitless & sober :(
Afternoon Hank.
It's warm out, in the sprawling metropolis, that is B.W. Hartlepool.
A cup of coffee is calling me.

I do love an Irish coffee, now and then.
 
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Afternoon Ginge, and afternoon all.

When I lived in Newton Hall, (DH1) in a previous life, the bus service to the centre of Durham, wasn't great on a Sunday.
It was often quicker to walk, from NH to the Dun Cow, in the city centre, than to hang around waiting for a bus. (I think the first bus into the centre, started at midday on a Sunday, iirc)

Afternoon Hank.
It's warm out, in the sprawling metropolis, that is B.W. Hartlepool.
A cup of coffee is calling me.

I do love an Irish coffee, now and then.

I hate this clammy weather I'm sweating more now than when I gan through the Dts
 
Evening Cloughy, been out for an anniversary meal with Mrs C. had a most enjoyable evening down Durham, the wallet is a lot lighter.......but she’s worth it.
Reminds me of an owld song me da used to sing after he'd had a few: Oh I wish I was single again(repeat), cos when I was single, my pockets would jingle, oh I wish was single again. Sorry to hear you had a bad neet, kip wise. Dr Wobble & I usually try to have our celebrations on an afternoon these days. Late, boozy lunch, then a flake out. Nee heartburn nor nowt. Job's a good 'un.

Ow, Sis, la. You're not wrang about the perils of straying off piste, marra. I got so worked up after reading page after virtual page of utter tripe I thowt fer a minute I'd accidentally stumbled onto the Hansard website. I could've ripped a tissue, jumped off a doll's house strite ontiv a grape & crushed the bugger under the heel of me jackbyut.

Instead, I wrote this:

"We win: it's down to the players. We lose: it's down to Ross.

We have the best squad in the division: Ross still can't win with them.

The squad is shite: why isn't Ross signing a load of top quality players?

We've never seen him play: he must be shite.

We win: it's down to the players. We lose: it's down to Ross."

Nee bugger replied, except Gipetto, who simply laughed & said "Great, isn't it?"

Yer reet about players garn down like they've been felled by an axe, HC. I couldn't believe it the other day (I'm guessing this is what you were alluding to) when that little snot, Scott "Yus milady" Parker said, in all sincerity, that his player felt a touch on his back, thus entitling him to topple like a felled oak weighted down with a sack of shit (not his exact words, but that was the gist). Nee bugger challenged his statement. I've not read the rules in a few years but surely they don't say that, do they? If so, I might as well pack it arl in now & take up something mare physical, like macrame or ikebana. Great Scot!

Hope arl gans well today, Red, la. I think the memorial bench is a great idea.

May I wish sleep to the insomniacs, peace to the troubled, relief to those in pain. And a tiny huzza to Little Micky Owen fer winding the mags up, just a little bit mare than usual. Their springs'll be bust soon enough.

To Javelin of Spam & Andy Gray: Hail, Priapus, potent friend (an extract from the well narn buckman's prayer), beware the dangers of Peter Pepper Chillies & always, always, always wesh yer hands AFORE ye hev a slash. And to everyone else, who, like me, finds occasional shelter, succour(!) & camaraderie in this oasis as we raise to our lips the sweet, sweet water of shared conversation via the shadoof of human kindness, enjoy yasels. Stay always hydrated.

Edit: Wrang thread, ha, ha. I'll try a copy & paste (doomed to failure). Oh, good afternoon, by the way!
 
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Reminds me of an owld song me da used to sing after he'd had a few: Oh I wish I was single again(repeat), cos when I was single, my pockets would jingle, oh I wish was single again. Sorry to hear you had a bad neet, kip wise. Dr Wobble & I usually try to have our celebrations on an afternoon these days. Late, boozy lunch, then a flake out. Nee heartburn nor nowt. Job's a good 'un.

Ow, Sis, la. You're not wrang about the perils of straying off piste, marra. I got so worked up after reading page after virtual page of utter tripe I thowt fer a minute I'd accidentally stumbled onto the Hansard website. I could've ripped a tissue, jumped off a doll's house strite ontiv a grape & crushed the bugger under the heel of me jackbyut.

Instead, I wrote this:

"We win: it's down to the players. We lose: it's down to Ross.

We have the best squad in the division: Ross still can't win with them.

The squad is shite: why isn't Ross signing a load of top quality players?

We've never seen him play: he must be shite.

We win: it's down to the players. We lose: it's down to Ross."

Nee bugger replied, except Gipetto, who simply laughed & said "Great, isn't it?"

Yer reet about players garn down like they've been felled by an axe, HC. I couldn't believe it the other day (I'm guessing this is what you were alluding to) when that little snot, Scott "Yus milady" Parker said, in all sincerity, that his player felt a touch on his back, thus entitling him to topple like a felled oak weighted down with a sack of shit (not his exact words, but that was the gist). Nee bugger challenged his statement. I've not read the rules in a few years but surely they don't say that, do they? If so, I might as well pack it arl in now & take up something mare physical, like macrame or ikebana. Great Scot!

Hope arl gans well today, Red, la. I think the memorial bench is a great idea.

May I wish sleep to the insomniacs, peace to the troubled, relief to those in pain. And a tiny huzza to Little Micky Owen fer winding the mags up, just a little bit mare than usual. Their springs'll be bust soon enough.

To Javelin of Spam & Andy Gray: Hail, Priapus, potent friend (an extract from the well narn buckman's prayer), beware the dangers of Peter Pepper Chillies & always, always, always wesh yer hands AFORE ye hev a slash. And to everyone else, who, like me, finds occasional shelter, succour(!) & camaraderie in this oasis as we raise to our lips the sweet, sweet water of shared conversation via the shadoof of human kindness, enjoy yasels. Stay always hydrated.

Edit: Wrang thread, ha, ha. I'll try a copy & paste (doomed to failure). Oh, good afternoon, by the way!
Good afternoon Cloughy.
Better late than never.
It's always a pleasure to read your musings on here.
They're like an instant panacea, lifting the spirits on the gloomiest of days.

These ex players /pundits, have a lit to answer for, with their inane drivel, and endorsing the dark arts in football.
I remember seeing Gary McCallister, being gently nudged, on the halfway line at the SOL, and then proceeding to beat Bob Beamon's 1968 long jump, world record, to "win" a decidely dodgy penalty, against us.

I've seen some players, theatrically flying through the air, and doing a mid air, triple summersault, which even the great Olga Korbut, would struggle to pull off, in her prime.

The more, the cheating is accepted, the more it will continue.

Anyway. Time for another coffee, methinks.

Enjoy your afternoon, Cloughy.
 
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