About 24 hours after it came to pass, I just about feel ready to talk about last night

Around 8.10pm yesterday I wandered into The Place in Broomhill, Sheffield. An hour previously I had left the doctor's surgery after a quite excruciatingly painful visit to the doctor, and had driven like a madman so as to miss as little of the match as possible. I was in PAIN. I got to the bar, relieved to find the match on the big screen (this being Sheffield, the other pub in the locality was showing the snooker). Ordered a pint, sat down, and the first thing I saw was Holty bring down a long ball down with a first touch that Messi could but dream of only to fail to score by a whisker. At that point I realised the whole pub was FULL of Norwich fans. Mostly students, but it was still stirring to see such support so far from home. It got to half-time, and I went outside for a sneaky fag. I spoke to some of my fellow Canaries and had a strange realisation; I wasn't cacking it. Whenever I watch Norwich on Sky I'm a nervous wreck. I said to one of them; I'm completely calm - we're going to do it. I texted about 30 friends saying we're 45 minutes and one goal from the Premier League and I believed it. Went back, got another pint, and the second half began. Jackson missed his first chance on his left foot. At this point in any other match I would be hiding in the loo. But I retained my calm, and rest assured, five minutes later BOOM. The Place went WILD. I sobbed as I chanted OTBC with complete randoms. Bliss. The next 30 minutes flew by in a haze of beer, tears and sheer anticipation, and come the final whistle, the pub went crazy again. Un-f**king-believable. Another fag, I could barely speak. Another pint, sat down and exchanged expressions of disbelief with my new best friends. Sobbed again as I watched the celebrations. Half an hour later, my younger counterparts were ready to hit the town, but the drudgery of my 9-5 called me back to the flat. I could barely lift my legs. I got back home, logged on here, and passed out.

This morning I woke up feeling like s**t and late for work. The reason; before I left for the pub last night I remembered I'd taken a lot of codeine to stop the agony my disfigured thumb was causing me. Net result: ecstasy.

What. A. Night. COYY OTBC GTFI!!!!!!!!!

Nb. I'm led to believe that mixing codeine and alcohol is a terrifically dangerous thing to do, so absolutely not recommended (until Norwich are on verge of qualifying for Europe next season)

Posted By: King on May 3rd 2011 at 22:39:44

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