overlap

What a day! Started off with the culmination of the football season in a one-off death or glory, shit or bust winner takes all game, in which winning was the only result that mattered. In front for over half the game, we did have long enough to dwell on the vague hope that we might just pull it off. When we scored, the surge in the collective pulse of the entire crowd must have gone up by enough put a few megawatts into the National Grid. I've lived through a couple of very hairy moments and I've never quite felt like that. Naturally, it all went to shit, as pretty much everyone I spoke to predicted, even at half-time while we were still ahead and genuinely the only team in it. With such high stakes being played for, I'd got a step ahead of myself and arranged to go see some live music a hundred-odd miles away, partly because I know the best way of getting over disappointment, even when fully expected, is to distract myself with something else entirely rather than brood on it. Ok, odds on anyone reading this ever having heard of the genius of Ange Dolittle are minimal to say the least, never mind the chances anyone is actually familiar with him and his music. I first saw Ange on a stage a mere fifteen-odd years ago, and over the last few years we've been on very good speaking and occasional emailing terms. Being the top bloke he is, he wanted to say hello and thanks to the folk he knew had travelled to come to the gig, he said hello to the Manchester posse, the Leicester posse, and realising he'd either forgotten where I live or didn't know in the first place, I got thanked for coming under the guise of my own personal firstname lastname posse. And if there's a better place for such ego-polishing than the vanity-publishing world of the blog, I've yet to encounter it. The thought of being a posse of my own kept me chuckling through the last half-hour of sleep-deprived driving home. The music wakes me up and makes the tea and gets me out of bed. Always.