Went to the big Idle Wickes d.i.y store. I am framing myself to o some work on Bev’s house but it is a really odd pre-war and I need to see stuff before I can decide if it will work. I especially wanted to see stuff called ‘spaceboard’ which is on offer. I cannot tell from the website if it will serve as a loft floor on its own. Turns out it doesn’t matter as the nearest store that might have it is Newcastle!

It had started out as a cold and misty Saturday but had warmed up by the time I had finished. I had started on the beer at Shipley Wetherspoons (a half of ‘Smuttynose Mild(?), a strange but good USA recipe for their beer festival. I was going to drink more but was dithering about going to see Bradford City as well. I think the sun and the £20 in made me decide to get a bus back to Shipley instead.

I got off at the[a href=” http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/place?oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-GB:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=shoulder+of+mutton+leeds+road+thackley&fb=1&gl=uk&hq=shoulder+of+mutton+leeds+road&hnear=0x487be391197f319f:0x39255a9122090b9b,Thackley,+West+Yorkshire&cid=2348044978513185606&ei=meduT5C-LIfN8QPn75y_DQ&sa=X&oi=local_result&ct=placepage-link&resnum=1&ved=0CEEQ4gkwAA”%5D Shoulder of Mutton[/a], in Thackley because I had never been in before. It was very quiet. The pint of Spitfire was ok, but they i have one of the nicest pub dogs I have ever met. The landlord had no idea if Thackley F.C. were at home

Then went to the [a href=”http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/place?hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-GB:official&psj=1&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_qf.,cf.osb&biw=864&bih=439&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=great+northern+leeds+road+thackley&fb=1&gl=uk&hq=great+northern+leeds+road&hnear=0x487be391197f319f:0x39255a9122090b9b,Thackley,+West+Yorkshire&cid=14665117655560393597″] Great Northern[/a]. Much busier, but nobody knew about Thackley F.C. here either. The question got me talking to a bloke about cricket and rugby league though. He were great. Started his working life as an apprentice wool-sorter, one of the two most skilled jobs in the old wool industry (burlers an meanders were the other one), played league cricket for Idle, and knew a tailor in Idle who took his jeans up and replace the pockets for less than a fiver.

I went and bought a local paper, discovered Tackley were away but Eccleshill were at home, but with little time to kick off I went back to the pub, where I heard a story about a wool bag (or sack, Bradford has its own word for something that was 12 foot cubed) accidently dropping on a Sentinel steam lorry and the bloke in it surviving because he grabbed the hot chimney, which kept the sack off, but burnt his arms. The lorry broke.

Bev had spent the day morrising in Leeds. I meant to go to a ‘save our Odeon’ protest, but decided to meet her off the train.