Mahinda’s Little World

As far as bank holiday weekends go, that was pretty rubbish.

Okay, so Friday was fun, as was much of Saturday, but then there was the fiasco that was Saturday evening - as documented in my last post.

Sunday meant a hockey tournament down on the grass at North Staffordshire Hockey Club. Definitely a fun day out. I didn’t play very well, but I was horrendously out of position (left wing or left midfield rather than my customary right back) and we got to the final anyway. In the final, I managed to get knocked out of the game - Donks, who’s A Big Lad, was taking a 16-yard hit (the hockey equivalent of a goal-kick) and I was running into position…unfortunately, this resulted in me taking a hockey ball to the side of the knee. A hockey ball that had been hit HARD. I was jumping anyway, and ended up coming down a couple of yards from my stick.

Still, it was a grand day out, complete with tasty burgers and The Mighty Tottenham handing Bolton a beating. Somewhat fortuitously, but a victory nonetheless.

Got home and chilled out with the aid of The Longest Shower In The World, before watching 24, a couple of old episodes of Buffy, and other cheese that happened to be ont’ telly. Couldn’t really move my right leg very much.

Monday was a very lazy day, which was nice. For various reasons, I had to pop into Altrincham Rifle Club for a little while - I must have driven past it hundreds of times without realising it was there! It’s all very nice and plush - a far cry from the cobwebby tin shed that is Wilmslow Rifle Club…and much more convenient besides. Tempting though it would be to defect, that’d just be WRONG.

Got home. And then the day got worse. I’d gotten a txt from Linden saying that there was a Slugs Ate My Parents (amongst others) gig at Orange Grove in Fallowfield…it was just after 10pm, and I was feeling wide awake, so I thought I’d give it a try.

I walked 20 minutes to Fallowfield, repeatedly trying to call Alison and Linden. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t get past the bouncer at Orange Grove, thanks to their strict students only policy (and the fact that I was a single male and therefore not subject to the "cute girly waiver"), so, without being able to contact anyone inside, I walked home again, with a mixture of annoyance and resignation, occasionally (and unsuccessfully) trying to contact the girls again.

As I was walking back through Withington, I remembered that Pete had invited me over to catch the 11pm repeat of 24 with him and Rosy, if I needed to. So I called up and detoured to their place.

A bit of 24 (which I’d already seen) followed, and I watched Pete playing in an online poker tourney, before we all watched the last few frames of the World Snooker Championship (from The Crucible Theatre, Sheffield…comfortingly). Unfortunately, the amusingly-accented Graeme Dott won. He sounds like Wee Jimmy Krankie!

*goes off to find weblink for Wee Jimmy Krankie*

My God! They’re still going! Here.

Got home around 1.30pm, what with the snooker taking aaages, ate some very tasty left over lamb curry and rice, and finally headed to my bed for some well-earned rest.

A word of advice to anyone at a loud gig - check your phone every so often, as someone might be trying to contact you.