Football, bloody football.

Another depressing afternoon spent at the Cobblers yesterday.

We play a nice to watch passing game. We have an excellent young goal keeper and a fairly tight defence. One or two of our players in midfield although they are not so young as they used to be eg Ian Taylor and Eoin Jess are still exceptional players at this level - but our 'strikers' are facing the biggest crisis of confidence since records of crisis's of confidence began. Lost count of how many golden scoring opportunities went begging and also lost at home (AGAIN), this time by two goals to(inevitably) nil.

That after one and a half days spent Christmas shopping in Milton Keynes (The Horror), and then encountering a posh twat in the carpark who said "At least the Saints won." I nearly had to hit him. Have I mentioned how much I hate my town's rugby team? Well, it's not so much the team I hate as their supporters who all seem to be there as they think the 'rugger' is the place to be seen. They are the kind of people who if forced to talk to you are looking none too subtly over your shoulder for someone influential to talk to. And as the saying goes "Where were they when the Saints were crap?"

Anyway, by the time I met Reidski last night I was very much in need of a drink. Had a great time with him as ever, prevented from being 100% perfect only by his regular reminders that "Never mind - at least Millwall won." As that means they are now only two points below us that news was not exactly guaranteed to cheer me up. :-(