Drift

It has been a long time since I last blogged, but, due to levels of high stress, and an unwanted strain of 'man flu' trying to beat me, I shall be swift tonight. This weekend was another wash out or 'snow out' as it became. Another couple of day's wasted away from home and another couple of grand wasted on hotel and travel expenses for the club. The only slight high point was seeing Scott Bevan panic when he saw his morning poached eggs on their way towards him, he shot up, grabbed the plate, and then watched in vain as his protein fix slid off the plate and on to his track suit. Poor 'Bevs' was broken and the sight of his team mates in tears of laughter did nothing to cheer him up.
The night before was also pretty funny, seeing Nicky Wroe in the cinema with his one, odd looking, recently lathered in mud, converse trainer (bad landing on the way!), and then witnessing almost the entire team don 3-d glasses to enter screen 4, the 'Abyss'!. It was a rare trip to the cinema for me but with Barry Norman (Kev) and crew in tow I felt it was the right thing to do, although I had to sit away from the lad's in the empty disabled section for most of the film as I cramped up after what felt like an eternity (in truth it was twenty minutes).
I don't really do Sci-Fi bit I have to say it was very good, even if by the end of the film, and on our return to the hotel, breakfast was being served (long film!). It must have been one heck of a sight seeing eight random lad's, all wearing T.U.F.C 'trackies' and 3-D goggles, running back to the hotel in sub zero conditions. We did actually just get back in time to see Hugh Grant dominate old Johnny Ross and give us all an insight in to the world of contemporary art - he bought an Andy Warhol for $2.6 million Dollar's and sold it for $28 million Dollar's !.
After a long night spent on my sheet metal bed with accompanying breeze block pillows it was up, and soon to be off, back home.

Report on Sunday and today, tomorrow, it you catch my drift.

CH