Published: Tuesday, February 1, 2011
I was walking up the road late on Saturday night when a car screeched to a halt. A man got out, opened the boot and handed me a brace of pheasant. Am I in The Archers?
I was out early on Sunday morning. It was still dark and the light was beautiful but it was achingly cold. Lizzie seemed reluctant to go any further than the top of the road where we turn back on our last walk of the day. Perhaps it was too early for her but she is becoming a bit confused and she may have thought it was last thing at night rather than first thing in the morning.
What do you do if you are walking along a dark country path and you hear the patter of feet of someone running up behind you? That happened to me last night. What you do is you move to the side to let them pass as this is Kidwelly. We don’t have the theatres, cinemas and clubs as in the city but there is also no crime to speak of.
You must have seen footballers sustain what looks like a career-threatening tackle which makes you cover your eyes; after five minutes treatment they are up and running again as if nothing happened. That didn’t happen to me: last night, when playing football, I went down and I stayed down. A sprained ankle the size of a tangerine and I’m booked to take grandson Jack skiing in just over two weeks.
I was glad to see Andy Gray get the bag from Sky Sports. It was his punditry that I couldn’t stand. Frank Lampard of Chelsea put in a shocking tackle on Xabi Alonso of Liverpool. The referee booked Lampard and Gray was incandescent. “Some referees are a disgrace, giving a yellow card for next to nothing.” Alonso was out for six months with a broken leg!
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