R's rue

 Storm Dudley has found shore Trendy Carol bustled up the lane earlier in a lovely brown woollen coat  And we waved as the blustery wind shook the both of us like twigs The dogs and Albert have squeezed onto the trendy blue sofa like sardines  And I’ve turned off the tv and read Bob Mortimer’s autobiography as the wind screamed around the cottage walls . I miss my fire and am happy it returns next week  I met my old friend Cheryl today , a psychotherapist as well as a friend  She centred me  …..naturally …. The roar of the wind is worrying, but it will pass  from Going Gently https://ift.tt/otUEcbk

Hull City's George Honeyman and United's Conor Hourihane battle for the ball    © Simon Bellis Last night, my friend Tony and I went to the famous Bramall Lane ground to watch our team - Hull City - play Sheffield United in a hotly contested Championship match. Of course it was also a Yorkshire derby. It would have taken forty minutes to walk from our house to the ground but we went down in Tony's Ford Focus and parked behind the health centre where Shirley used to work. Now we only had a ten minute walk to the stadium which has hosted games since the 1870's. In fact, it is the oldest major stadium in the world still to be hosting professional association football matches. It has been the permanent home of Sheffield United since 1889. For February, it was a pleasant evening. Balmy temperature and no rain. As we came closer to the ground, the nearby streets were filled with spectators. I bought a programme outside The Railway Hotel for £3.50. Inside that hostelry, Un...

 Last book you read? Last sweet treat you ate? Last thing you bought? What made you smile? Last prayer request you made? from R's rue https://ift.tt/FMH0hAK

It was well after eleven last night when I realised I had not eaten since  lunchtime , a lunch which had been a very tasty but very small beef stew, served by the very cute chef himself  I raided the cupboards and found a packet of beetroot and chilli falafel mix which was a mistake and moments after I had mixed the bright purple chickpea glup into balls and had started to deep fry them in a Smokey kitchen. I can’t remember the last time I threw up in the middle of the night. It was probably years ago in Sheffield after an overly energetic night out at The Ledmill. But at 4 am this morning , and with an audience to two dogs watching carefully from the doorway, I hurled my purple guts up while hugging the pan moaning loudly   “ Oh God Why”  Dorothy especially was fascinated by the contents of my stomach and pushed her head next to mine in order to muse with some interest at the lumps and bumps hurling from my mouth.  I can still taste beetroot this mo...