Last Saturday the plan was to get up early, go to Jack & Ada’s for a mossiv breakfast, do a big food shop, housework then writing and editing. Especially as I’m so close to finishing Greg Doesn’t Date, that 6 episode daft show I’ve been working on for a few months.

It half went to plan. I had the lurgy, couldn’t sleep so I was up at half 5, sitting on my settee whilst drinking tea and listening to George Ezra. I’d been meaning to research a George Ezra song for two weeks but hadn’t got around to it, so then had seemed like a good time. The song I was after was Paradise. I wasn’t a fan of George’s early work but I love Paradise.

I made more tea, fannied around on social media and went back to bed in time to listen to Frank Skinner on Absolute Radio. I got back up at half ten and all of the mornings plans were binned. Writing and editing? I didn’t even turn the pc on.

The mossiv breakfast? I just about made it to town in time to grab a sausage, bacon and egg sammo from the red van at the bottom of the market before catching the train to the match.

I know I’m 49 now and feeling it but those stairs at Bescot Stadium Railway Station don’t get any easier do they? Our local MP Valerie Vaz has been pushing for a lift to be installed here. Come on Double V, crack the whip. Chase those votes. While you’re at it, if they could also build toilets, a Costa, small W H Smiths and maybe a micro pub on the waste land behind the ticket office then footfall for said station would go through the roof. Using the new lifts of course.

The match day experience is on the up. The Locker (nee Saddlers Club) was officially opened before kick off, although as I’m not a season ticket holder or a subscriber to the football club’s official membership scheme it would have been £5 in, and as it was 2.50, and i wasn’t drinking anyway I didn’t head in but will soon as i need to review it. There was a welcome return of a food van by said club and there were pop up bars at either end of the lower tier. All good.

The match was scrappy but I timed my run to perfection for the Bescot Bar at half time, reaching the coffee machine just before another customer and noticing it going straight out of service after he got his drink. Meanwhile next to us, it was my ace Niece Amber’s turn to try and get some joy out of the roll a 6 to begin snack vending machine which eventually yielded a return.

Talking of Amber it was wonderful to see her along with my Great Niece Frankie, as well as many other Saddlers including friend of the blog Elliot Garbett who kindly invited me for drinks in The Pretty Bricks which I still need to retick now it has new gaffers so that will happen soon. I may even report on it here.

The second half was also scrappy and I found my mind wandering away from the game and more on what squad I would assemble if I was Berwick Rangers manager. I once had an unsuccessful spell in charge on Championship Manager 97/98, but now they are out of The Scottish League expectations may be lower. The squad I was finalising was looking good, all pundits would have been impressed even Roy Keane but the final whistle blew and I had to dash for the train. The run slowed as I reached those stairs again.

I needed a train to the Tile Hill area of Coventry, as it was a night out for Craig’s birthday and as I reached New Street I saw a West Midlands Trains service that was due had been cancelled. The next one was half an hour which gave me time to have a mooch around. I needed food and I was still suffering with lurgy, and was so bunged up I decided a packet of Tunes would also be handy.

I got to W H Smith, and guess what? No Tunes. Are they not a thing anymore? You’d think a railway station would be the one place they would be on sale following that advert in the 80’s. Firdt cladd dicket to Noddingham and all that. They don’t want that at the ticket office. Lockets or Soothers so I went old skool with the former. I grabbed a prawn sandwich, yes yes I know but I never turn down corporate football (except when we played at Old Trafford in 1998).

At the checkout I also asked for a scratchcard. I heard my words, and because of the lurgy I barely understood what I was saying myself. What chance did the bloke serving have? Not sure if he pulled off too many in error but I got two scratchcards, the total came to £7.60. I hadn’t been brave enough to look at the price before I got the sandwich from the fridge. With the way I was talking I could have had no complaints if he’d handed me 20 Benson & Hedges and charged me £60. And I’m not a smoker.

The shop had Valentines Day stuff on sale. Great. The season where I am reminded I’m single every time I walk in a shop is upon us, and like Christmas it gets earlier every year. Oh well, get this day out of the way and the shops can start stocking up on the Halloween merchandise.

I demolished the sandwich, popped a Tune and headed for the loo. The sink had those new fangled handlebar taps which include the dryer. I always struggle to use these and this was no exception. I made a joke of it to the nice lady who was cleaning the sink next to me and we exchanged pleasantries. The Tunes had worked and I was now talking normally again. I wished her a good day and headed out. Oh my God, me talking to a woman. Right, I’ve mastered it in men’s toilets, just got to get the hang of it in pubs.

The next train had now been cancelled and the one half an hour after that was showing as departing from Birmingham International. With all this free time now on my hands I could have run to McDonalds on the ramp for a cheeseburger and saved a fortune on the prawn sandwich. I text Craig and he just said to get an Avanti train to Coventry and he’d pick me up from there. Plan. And it worked a treat. A train was coming soon, so I found the Avanti ticket machine and managed to grab an evening ticket to Coventry for just £2.80. Although by now I was past caring and would have paid £60 as long as I got a free 20 pack of Benson & Hedges.

Craig picked me up from Coventry Station, we parked up and set off for the first pub, I thought we were out in Tile Hill but when I was over there a couple of weeks ago in a pub called The Newlands, I didn’t realise that a queuing system was in place at the bar, so I just marched up and found a space, as you do. Well as you do in normal pubs. Another customer took exception to this (waiting until he was about to walk away with his drinks before piping up), and I’d already been wound up when I indicated to the barmaid that he was next and he didn’t thank me.

I went to the toilet in there shortly afterwards and all 3 urinals and the cubicle were vacant but I held back in case of a queuing system in there too. This got me thinking. If there was one in there I’d like it to be like in a bank. Rope to stand alongside and automated announcements. “Urinal number 2 please” or “Cubicle is free. Enjoy your dump” etc etc. Anyway Craig must have not wanted to risk another round of queuegate so took us elsewhere.

First pub was New Spires in Coundon. This was completely decked out in England flags which got my approval. Crags found a table announcing “we’ll sit here so we can watch the darts and the football.” I looked up, a lad and his missus were playing darts. I found it a bit odd that Craig wanted to watch this. I sat down, took a swig of my pint and then noticed the massive screen on the other wall showing MVG v RVB. I’m such a dumbass at times.

We jumped in a taxi, well nearly the wrong onet o start with. Craig booked one which was white so he saw one outside and went to dive in, only for ours to be another white one that was just pulling onto the car park.

The plan had been to have a pub crawl but at The Old Clarence in Earlsden, our next port of call Craig had a £25 bar tab which he’d won at a quiz. This payed for 6 pints of Strongbow Dark Fruit which we set about but first had an odd exchange with a local who accused Craig of sounding like a southerner. Craig explained that he’s a Walsall lad living in Cov but to no avail. He expected me to jump in and stick up for him but my voice had returned to lurgified status and I didn’t want to do the Walsall accent a dis-service so I resumed my default stance of not talking to people I don’t know.

The ciders were good but as you know, with pleasure there has to be pain and that came with the DJ playing Believe” by Cher. Although some of this was drowned out by everyone tutting.

It was curry time. The restaurant had no visible sign that I could see, just an arrow pointing up the stairs with words saying “check out our rental places”. What was going on? Was Craig taking me to a late night estate agents? Had he secretly found a flat he wanted us both to move into? My mind started thinking of weekend mornings and Craig heading out to grab the sausage and egg McMuffins, returning to present them to me in bed. Yes my imagination runs wild at times and I should get it checked by a professional.

It was actually a curry house at the top of the stairs, but unlicensed. Craig knows my stance on these but to fair it was his first visit and he didn’t know. I refuse to take my own booze to these places but Craig dashed to the shop across the road and just made it before it closed, returning with a 10 pack of dark fruit. I accepted one just to keep him happy for his birthday.

The people on the next table got their food and they all had curries in those big satellite dish style bowls that used to be common in Walsall. This excited me. We ordered and the starters came quickly, I’d only eaten half of my first poppadom. I only had one Nargis Kebab during 2023 but I’m pleased to say that 2024 is going better as this was to be my second of the year and it was ace.

Craig’s main came out first, in the big satellite dish bowl. My chicken tikka massala came out in a normal bowl. It was an okay size but I wasn’t going to be picking up MTV2 on it. The food was ace, service really good and full marks to Crags, he’d picked a good un. Great food, great company and another free cider. Paradise running through your bloody veins to quote George Ezra.

We went back to his and played a beat the into music quiz where I had to name the artist and title from the 50 best selling songs of 1999, with a point for each part answer. I scored 97 out of 100 but the final one was an absolute bag of wank I’d not heard of which cost me 2 points. I was accused during this of being a secret B*Witched fan due to how quickly I identified Jessie Hold On and Blame It On The Weatherman. I will confess that I have belted out the former hundreds of times whilst washing up.

Class day. I didn’t win on the scratchcards though.