As long as we beat the English, we don't care

Kelly Jones' words not mine, I want to beat everyone, but realistically, if your having a shite season the one to win is England at home. We gave them a right tonking, but it should have been more, especially if Ickle Shane could learn to pass as well as run. The atmosphere in the stadium was a good as I can remember for years, the singing was fantastic. At one point just before half time the dirge that is Swing Low just about got to the end of the first line when it was drowned out by a rousing Hymns and Arias. For the first time for a while both team and crowd seemed up for it, but then, it was only England, and lets not forget that they are also a little bit crap as well. I moved in elevated circles that day, sharing a car to Cardiff with the British ambassador to Argentina, bizarre.
Still trying to get tickets for the world cup quater finals in Marseille, not that its a banker that Wales or England will get that far. The official ticketing website is a pile of chimp jiz. A few of us have registered for information since November, but nada, jack. Every time you try to buy tickets that are 'Available for general sale now !' you get to the press the button part to be told, not available. Its starting to become tiresome, I really could do with a weekend on the lash with the guys, its something we used to do a few times a season, and its on the wane since we all became middle aged and sensible. Marseille in the Autumn seemed to be the ideal opportunity to rediscover our talents for quaffing industrial amounts of cheap red wine and forcing each other to eat oysters without barfing.

Odds & sods

Thank god that rains gone. One end of our village was cut off for a week, the bridge I drive over every day to go to work, sods law. This is the lockkeepers mode of transport for a week, about a quarter of a mile row to his cottage. Still, the sun is now glorious, the daffs are out and the Cheltenham festival is upon us. No ticket this year, but the wonder of modern technology allows me to make my usual losses sat at my desk thanks to Messrs W Hill.

More sporting losses to come at the weekend as I wait to hear if I've been succesfull in securing a ticket to see Wales finally get the wooden spoon. Its only two short years since a post proclaimed ' I am Welsh & I am mighty', the next will probably be 'I am Welsh and I'm going to take up tiddlywinks'.

One or two things are yanking my plank at the moment. The new version of blogger is shite. The reason for infrequent posting is that the bastard thing rarely allows me even to get as far as the log in page, and then it runs as slowly as a Welsh prop. We're going to stick our house on the market soon, and we're registered to buy with vast amounts of agents in the areas we're looking to move to, but we're getting fuck all sent through. Useless tossers in the main. Forget about the lockkeeper pic as above, blogger refuses to upload it. time to turn on the radio and see which of my chosen nags is running backwards