January 2015

Finally got round to buying and fitting a replacement part for the bathroom basin cold tap; which now passes water for the first time in months.

While it does not make that much difference to me, it is one ticked of the massive ‘to do’ list in my own house; and the after cleaning the taps they do look lovely now.

I have also sorted out a big pile of stuff to be collected for charity tomorrow.

After discovering I might not have to have my roof repaired I set off to the Bradford City Vs Rochdale match. I set off early so as to get a ticket for Wednesday’s Millwall F.A. Cup replay (see #bethedifference ). Had a few pints before, and a really good beef salad sandwich at the City Gent.

Panicked when told that City had announced they were not selling Millwall tickets after 13.00. That turned out to be rubbished, but at 13.20 I was at the ground, wondering what to do until kick-off at 15.00. I suddenly thought: Estonian Club. I had been decades ago, and I went out with a lovely Estonian lass at the time; and my mother’s mother tongue of Karelian was very close to Estonian. So I set off to find it. I remembered it being near Cunliffe Terrace, a place I lived at between about 1982 and 84.

I found it, but only after a blood long walk around the streets of some of my yesterdays. I asked a policeman, who had no idea, but luckily I found an old postman who put me right.

The Estonian club is a lovely club, but I can’t become a member because it’s member’s list is full!

So I arrived at the match wearing a lovely, warm beer onesie. That helped me with a game where we had our goalie sent off after 10 minutes and only lost when a rubbish Rochdale team scored in the last minute of extra time.

Afterwards I met up with Les of the Sparrow in the New Beehive, and followed him and Craig to the Harp of Erin, the Star, the Boy and Barrel, and the Commercial; where I left them, even though I’d been on halves. It’s a long time since I did a proper pub crawl, or been in any of those pubs.

I’m glad I decided to stay in Bradford, because I doubt I’d ever manage to do something similar in Crawley. There are too few pubs for a start, and they all seem the same; and once I got angry about something in the few good ones I would have to stay out of pubs to recover, rather than being able to go to other pubs until I forgot what had made me angry in the first pubs.

I was also woken up Saturday 07.00 morning by the sound of a slate bumping down my roof in a gale. I got up, saw the slate in the garden, but it was too dark to see where it came from.

I was a bit unhappy. I am going to be relatively well off soon, but I need to be careful with cash for a while yet.

The thing is that I have not been able to see any gap in my roof! It is possible that the slate got blown off a neighbour’s roof; the gale was westerly, and that fits with the idea.

I have nearly sorted out my mother’s estate. I still have a few shares to transfer, and a surprise cache of Premium Bonds, again, not a lot, but enough to make doing the fiddly transfer worthwhile. Next week I should also have firm dates for sorting the sharing out the value of her house.

The trouble is that the sorting of my own house will have to wait awhile. I hope this is the last winter where I have to wear a hat indoors for two days while the house heats up, after I have been away. I need central heating; and I want a new bathroom; and a lot of other things doing. I have taps that don’t work, and a cistern that overflows; but a proper fix is going to be redundant when I get heating and a new bathroom.

1. I got here.
2. I’ve not been burgled (the cost of the fixing would be much more than the value of anything he found in my house, but it’s still good not to be burgled).
3. I cannot see my breath in my bedroom!
4. I found I had left a 3/4 full bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label! Though I don’t really need whisky to go to bed with, coz it’s not cold enough for me to see my breath.

In Bradford afore coming home I met barman Greg in the Record Cafe, from New Jersey, doing a PhD on Pictish iron working (I’m so looking forward to learning about how the Pict’s smelted); discussed stuff in the Sparrow; and learned I had all the wrong names in Al’s; and that if we beat Millwall (local club for local people) F.C. we get Chelsea away next roung.

Just realised I’ve not blogged about what a set of hillbillies Millwall are, or about my experiential learning trip to Millwall (angels of the morning) F.c. on Saturday; on account of wordpress being almost as incompetently run as Millwall (mother, sister, aunt, in one) Football Club.

I got to meet Alexander from Los Angles; and have a long discussion about drosophila with Theo.

I also got to drink beer in the Railway, Stretham Common. Although I was going through the nightmare of trying to get to East Croydon at the time; but that nightmare was not as bad as the one I had at Millwall (no one likes us, coz we’re flicking incompetent idiots with a violent streak) F.C.

To be fair to Millwall though, they are not Leeds Utd; but niether was Harold Shipman.


Via a night at Basil’s monastery, where I had a special invite to their Feast of Epiphany. It were lovely, and I left well fed, though with the certain knowledge that my brother would not enjoy my sprout curry.

Interacted with random masons in the Hole in the Wall

Been in Cockpit. Am in Parcel Yard. I will not feel the cold when I get home.

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