retired_Gentle Lady

I knew I had relations in Wales!

retired_lovelyminoo

I have to confess that I am quite bad for coming out with stupid facts at random times of the day as well as extremely pointless questions from out of the blue.

For example, just the other day I asked my girlfriend: "If we are so smart, that we can put people into space, can build pyramids, can harvest and manipulate the earth for nearly anything we want and can create an exceptionally high quality of life for ourselves, why do some of us still insist on picking our scabs? Why can our brains do all these things yet not stop our hands from tearing off something that is required by our bodies to heal itself?"

retired_lovelyminoo

20th December 2008
With the harshest of winters firmly grasping the land the appeal of leaving the B&B was becoming less each passing day. Why risk hypothermia when there was a coal fire in the lounge I asked myself as I plonked myself down on the chair opposite. It’s 11am but I don’t care. Whisky was called for.

I’ve spent the last few weeks eating into what little money I have left knowing that once again I’ll find myself turfed onto the streets scavenging for food. I shuddered at the thought.

I had a quick look around to see who was about, quickly pulled out the phone line in the wall and plugged in the laptop. I hadn’t checked my emails in days.

Three unread messages. ****. What if these were important?

The first one was from RolexWatches entitled “watch you’ve always wanted”. Genius. Probably the best spam email I’ve had that didn’t contain the imaginative play of numbers and letters - “xpand r c0x” and “b!gr d1ks” being two that I can remember.

I sipped on my whisky, and hit the delete button. Bloody spam filters. They never work.

Second email, more spam. Heh, would you believe it. xpand r c0x. Deleted.

Third email. Ah, this looked more like it. Further details of the first part of the UEFA Pro License Course “Fitness & Conditioning”. Due to high demand in the UK, they were splitting the course across different cities. There was a course in Glasgow, Manchester and Cardiff this year. All I had to do was reply with which venue I preferred along with my Licence Number (when you get your coaching badges you’re assigned a number, Mine was 0014368 in case you’re wondering).

A call on my mobile interrupted my typing. It was Gordie back in Norway. I looked at the screen, the pixels dancing to my ringtone of choice (a 1 minute riff from Over The Madness by Paradise Lost). Should I answer it? Presumably the Social Services had finally tracked him down and were interrogating him about what he thought he was playing at. Or maybe he received a letter or email from them saying thank you for the work he had done, and that his bonus should have cleared by now.

I downed the rest of the whisky. It stung the back of my throat, stripping it away like acid. I winced and gasped for air. I bloody hate whisky. It’s rancid stuff. Being Scottish though, wherever you go, people assume that that’s all we drink. For your information we enjoy lots of other drinks. Like Nesquilk milkshakes for example. And cloudy lemonade. I’ve even once been tempted by herbal tea. Tempted, but never drank it. I’m not stupid, I know what herbs are used in it. Wikipedia tells me the most common varieties available. You can see for yourself. You know what one I was offered one time? Catnip! Aye, ****ing catnip! I was assured that catnip was a plant but I’m not stupid. Catnip is what makes cats go loopy. I use tea to relax, not to take bennies.

Besides, a friend came over to mine once asking me to make them some Catnip tea. It tasted horrible according to them, even though it was fresh from next doors litter tray.

The call ended without my answer. I’ll call him later I thought. When I can be bothered. When I suss out what he’s after. I don’t fancy another nutter on my hands.

retired_lovelyminoo

28th December 2008
There has been no more word from Gordie since his solitary phone call last week making me think that whatever he wants, it’s not that urgent. It was a relief, I’ve got more pressing matters to deal with, like getting myself back into management.

As you can no doubt tell from the date (see above to refresh your memory) it’s Christmas. Well… it was Christmas. Wait… it still is Christmas but what I mean is the main bit, the day everything builds up to, has now passed.

I went through to Cardiff to visit my brother and his girlfriend. They’ve been living there for a few years now, and it’s good to see that they’re doing well.

We hadn’t seen each other for about 5 years now. I’ve been busy with my coaching badges and managing abroad, he’s been busy with… whatever. Actually, come to think of it… I don’t think at any point over dinner we discussed what he’s been up to. And I was there since nine in the morning until ten at night. That’s… that’s remarkable. I mean, usually when you talk to someone there is at least one thing that comes up that you share similarities with. Like… for example when you’re a kid and you’re learning to ride a bike. Whoever you’re talking to will more than likely recollect their first experience as well. With my brother however, there was nothing. It was all me. Everything was about me. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not in the slightest bit concerned with that, after all, I lead a far more exciting life than a fighter pilot.

Back in Wenvoe now, in my room at the B&B, the weather doing it’s best to bring on the next ice age, I am taking a break from reading up on the laws of football in preparation of my Pro License course to write up this entry.

I’m bored. B-O-R-E-D - bored.

Bored, bored, bored.

Honestly, I’ve nothing to do. You might think “hey, you’ve been in that B&B for ages and it’s just today that you’ve finally got bored?” and I’ll turn to you and say “yes“. But I mean, there is plenty to do in a B&B if you just use your head.

In my first week I discovered that there are 88 steps in the building. This includes the 2 at the front door and 1 at the back. If you’ve got 14 steps up to a floor you have 2 steps at the landing that go down for some reason, but if you have 13 steps then.. well.. NO steps go down. How bizarre.

Week two had me staring at my rooms ceiling trying to discover how they put the swirly patterns up there and how they look so perfect. In it’s own way, it’s a work of art. It got me wondering like… how many are on the average ceiling or… I mean who first thought, if I… just.. If I swirl… like that, wow. You know what, I could make a living out of this. That’s brilliant that.

Week three saw me trying to imitate the ceiling patterns using the back of a Cornflakes packet and some paté. It’s not the same, it’s really not the same. It just kept smearing lumps over the box. I accidentally trod some of it into the carpet making it look like I’d been caught short. Not good.

I’m into week four now and that’s it. I can’t think of anything else to do. I need to get out more. Or maybe explorer other parts of the B&B. Maybe I could time how long it takes a log to burn on the fire, or what products give out the best coloured flames? Or maybe I should get back to my studying.

I’ve just noticed I’ve got a few packets of Quavers lying over by the TV. I could probably combine a snack with a scientific experiment. Kill two birds with one stone. I’ll let you know how I get on.

retired_lovelyminoo

5th January 2009
Law 4 states that rings, earrings, leather or rubber bands are not necessary to play football. Leather or rubber bands? In the world of the multi-millionaire Gucci watch wearing soccer star, who the hell wears rubber bands? And who runs out of the tunnel wearing a leather jacket? When… what game was it that was going on that had the players turning up dressed like The Fonz from Happy Days?

And I’m pretty certain that when it happened, the game was stopped, the referee went up and started quizzing the players, asking them what happened to their kits. And the Fonzie’s replied saying there was nothing in the rules against wearing leather, and that he should “just chill a bit“.

The ref calls his mate Dave in FIFA, he flicks through the rules, checks out Law 4 and goes “he’s right Chris, nothing here about leather. You’ll have to allow it, and those rubber bands… that’s todays fashion mate, get with it.”. The referee, obviously a bit p*ssed that a group of greased up 50’s throw-backs know more about the rules of the game than him, makes a mental note to ask for an amendment to Law 4 when he is next in Switzerland.

Sure enough, a few weeks later, he’s refereeing the same team again. Out pop the leather clad footballers, warming up, preparing for the match. Over trots the ref, red cards for all, match abandoned. 2-0 default win to Leyton Orient.

The ref, he’s loving it. Fights break out and Richie, Warren and a few of the Cunningham’s have to step in to sort it all out. After the break we see them all back at Arnolds, everyone’s happy again, a few kids bop to the ditties played out of the Jukebox, and they all share a laugh about what happened that day.

It’s amazing just how far The Fonz’s influence can be felt isn’t it? Just think, if it wasn’t for Winkler and ABC, today’s footballers would look at least 45 times cooler. Times certainly have changed haven’t they? No wonder players are obsessed with fashion nowadays. They’re crying out for the good old days of leather jackets on the field.

Anyway, the purpose of this entry was because I mentioned in my last entry I’d tell you what would happen if I put a crisp packet into the fire. Unfortunately, I fell asleep after writing my diary, and forgot all about it. But I promise you I’ll get onto it as soon as I can.

retired_lovelyminoo

10th January 2009
My first day of my Pro License course is complete and wow did I learn a lot!

There were just under 40 of us at this event, which was the largest gathering they’ve ever had so we were split into eight teams of 4 and one group of 5. Our group was Group B. Let me introduce who I was working with:

There was Tex. He was from the States, but had spent the last 2 years with Welsh Division Three side Ammonford, moving to Wales with his wife Deborah and his four children. His name wasn’t really Tex, but that’s what everyone called him.

Jim was the manager of Ely Rangers, a side struggling at the bottom of the First Division. This was his last chance to complete the course because his team were in the top flight and required all managers to gain their Pro License before 2010 like the English FA were also demanding. Poor chap was a bag of nerves through-out the day.

Then there was Sandy. Sandy was from Cardiff itself. He is a coach with Total Network Solutions and is completely up himself. He was not much older than me but kept prattling on about how great a coach he was and how it was only a matter of time before a big club came in for him, and that he was one of the top coaches in his class. Arrogant twat. Don’t you just hate people that brag about how brilliant they are when all the evidence says otherwise? Wait till he finds out how great I am! That’ll shut him up.

The days session was all about how to get players into peak physical condition during pre-season and continuing this right through until the end of the season. We covered it when I first did my coaching badges obviously, but never this in-depth.

We learned about the 3 types of fitness programs (Base, Season & Speed) and these were then broken down to between 2 and 3 sub-programs depending on what particular area of fitness you wanted to improve.

It was all extremely interesting and it gave me a good insight into what my coaches and physios actually do with their days while I’m fast asleep in bed.

In our groups we were given scenarios and had to work out the best solution for each. The first one was of a group of players that were half way through their season, competing in the Champions League but were ravaged by the flu. How would we cope with that? How could we get the best out of our remaining players and fast track the ill ones back to full fitness.

Tex suggested that they should do something called “Vaytam In Sea”. I’ve no clue what Vaytam is but dipping into icy waters at the height of winter is not a good idea. Daft Yank.

Sandy muttered some crap that I had no time for listening to because it was probably nonsense and Jim just sat there quiet as a mouse, afraid to say something in case what came out of his mouth was wrong and his P45 was slipped to him.

It was up to me to save the day. I suggested that if the players have the flu they should eat lots of apples, have a good **** to clear the bowels and then join up with the team for a gentle jog around a park or meadow, get in that fresh air. It’ll do them good that, it’ll do them good. The other players would be given mental puzzles set by MENSA to stimulate their mind, get them thinking more. That way they will outsmart their opponents with their technical brilliance on the pitch, relying on a passing game instead of a physically demanding one. Players would be picked based on their IQ’s.

Silence descended on Group B. Jim, Sandy & Tex just sat staring at me. Obviously in awe. I was good. I was very good. Sandy picked up the pen and wrote down our answer and passed it up to the front.

For the next half of the day we were taken on a real training session with other coaches that had previously taken and passed the Pro License course. While training we were fired questions about what we were doing, what areas of the body was being affected, how often we should do that type of exercise etc. etc.

It was knackering! I was on my knees by the end of the warm-up, gasping for air, taking on more fluids than a dehydrated fish.

Being so busy today I forgot all about trying to make some contacts, get to know a few people at some clubs to try and worm my way into management again. The only people I had spoken to were Jim, Sandy & Tex.

Hold on… I’ve just had an idea. Ely Rangers play just down the road from where I stay in Wenvoe. It was the closest club to where I’m currently living, and from the sounds of it, with Jim, it has a manager that is under a lot of pressure, not only to get the results, but to get his Pro License.

It’s possible that if Jim focuses too much on one thing, the other will suffer. Study on the course too much and his eyes will be taken off his team, be the manager and he’ll not have enough time to get up to speed with the Pro License.

But what if he’s distracted from both these things. What if he discovered drink and the fun it can cause. What if he discovered that bars are open till 3am in the cities. What if he met someone that showed him how to live life to the max?

I checked my mobile and sure enough, a certain Jim Valentine’s mobile number was stored there, having exchanged numbers with everyone else in my group earlier today.

Just like Tony Robinson’s, brain-dead, turnip obsessed character Baldrick in the hit comedy Blackadder, I had a cunning plan.

I felt like Satan.

retired_amgine

Excellent update MWA MWA 'evil laugh' MWA MWA

Good luck with taking jim on the ****er,i hope there a bit about where you take him to a strip club

retired_lovelyminoo

Depends what type of bars are in Cardiff. I'll need to do a bit of research

Should be fun anyway

enjikari

Still going strong this, very good stuff Caleyjag

retired_amgine

You'll probably end up referring to a bar that actually is a gay bar.

Or why not do that take him to a gay bar and then he finds out he actually likes men and his relationship with his family descends,he gets divorced,club find out he's gay and he's sacked.

This was jsut a idea which i no isnt thought through and would too long to write about and explain.