L's at the physio again tonight, which on the last two occasions has been a prelude to me getting a shag, so I'm looking forward to tonight. Although there was some doubt as to whether she would get treated because the physio is getting treatment herself from L's boss but apparently the physio is going to hobble back to her clinic just to treat L. That's something you don’t see much of these days, devotion to the job. They can compare hobbles.
Unfortunately I can’t pick L up this week unless she fancies a backie on the bike. L says I ought to have a basket on the front like Butch Cassidy. Butch Cassidy had a basket on the front of his bike? I don't remember that. Sounds good though. If I sit L in a basket on my bike then I could have endless fun on the way home.
It has to be said that it was a terrific bike ride home. I took another detour. I got a really fast pace up using the cycle paths and then the A6 to Shardlow but things ground to a halt in the traffic at Long Eaton. I'll need to find a way round that because the 'blast' to Shardlow is worth doing again.
I get home, feeling quite pleased with myself. It was such an impressive session that I feel I deserve to have all my sore bits lovingly licked and fondled, even if they are very sweaty from jiggling about in my cycle shorts. L duly obliges but it did take a bit of prompting.
After my post-cycling pick-me-up and after checking for L's X, which still isn't there, I take doggo for a quick ball session, as promised.
Then we go down to our local for a few beers. We deliberately go late because we knew that the Forest v Yeovil play-off match would be on the TV and wanted to avoid the celebrating Forest fans. We mistimed it a touch and arrived ten minutes before the end of the game. The score was 1-1 and as predicted Forest were on the verge of a trip to Wembley. So Doggo and I sat well away from the TV and the imminent celebrations while L went to the bar. Whilst she was getting the drinks in, former Derby failure Lee Morris, who I had no idea was now playing for Yeovil, hammers a shot against the post, the ball flies across the goal and cannons off the head of Forest defender Alan Wright (another player who had a brief spell at Derby) before ending up in the back of the Forest net. Oh dear. I snigger quietly to myself as the tension in the pub rose a touch.
L arrives back with two pints of slightly off but still quiet nice ruby beer. Can't remember the name of it. Things got even funnier a few minutes later as Marcus Stewart, who must be 93 by now, headed home to pull Yeovil level. I also had no idea he was at Yeovil either, seems some astute signings have been made there. Deathly silence now in the pub. Seems we may have gate crashed a funeral.
It was now gripping stuff and there was absolutely no time to relax, as extra-time beckoned, the entertainment just kept coming. David Prutton, sporting a ridiculous beard, lunged in with a foolish tackle to pick up his second booking and earn a red card, leaving Forest with ten men. I take a long drink of beer to suppress a snigger.
What a nice way for the retiring Graham Poll to end his refereeing career.
Could things get any worse for the punters, you bet. Two minutes into extra time and the locals were crying into their beer as a shocking back pass sent Lee Morris (yep him again) clear and the ex-Ram put Yeovil ahead on aggregate for the first time. Forest did equalise almost immediately and I started to look forward to the penalty shoot-out but no. Yeovil had other ideas and they sealed the tie with ten minutes to go. This time Forest didn't look capable of coming back and they didn't.
As the game finished the CD player in the pub was blasting out that awful cover version of the Bee Gees' Tragedy. How apt. Talk about "snatching defeat from the jaws of victory". What a wonderful night out.
I celebrated with a pint of Legend and a Sooty Stout. Then we had a small birthday port when we got home and watched Jools. On Jools, we were very impressed with the Cold War Kids.
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