Walked to The Bradford City v Wolverhampton Wanderers game.

City went ahead, then let in a goal that only needed one of the three City players to drop their shorts, and another to go Parp! Parp! on a old fashioned motor horn, for it to be a classic moment from a silent slapstick film. The two that ran into each other must have decided they were playing it as a mime at the very least.

An old bloke in front of me recognised me from when I used to stand in the Bradford End shouting, and that was before 11th May 1985! It turns out he was …nowt but a lad then. Which is doubly pleasing. The fact he remembered me from around 30 years ago is the most pleasing; and that he looks so old also seems good to me! Fair do’s, he has probably had kids, and I am probably staying youthful by never having a family: but my mother seems to prove that age is a mental state, up to the the moment you stop getting older.

I walked back into town: I could not get to the bar in the City Gent and could not even get into The Sparrow, so I went and blew £1.68 on 2 pints of milk and a black pudding from Jack Fultons.

I then went to Wetherspoon’s and had a pint. Met Simion, my oldest acquaintance in Bradford (Digby is my oldest friend). Turns out he once applied for a job at Bradford Playhouse & Film Theatre as a projectionist, and still remembered, with prejudice, the names of the men that interviewed him. I confirmed his judgement for most of them, but he seemed to find my stories that the men that interviewed him were not the worst the place had to offer, highly amusing. Glad to have brought a bit more happiness into the world.