A blue sort of fortnight

A blue sort of fortnight

 

It is Saturday night, the night before my birthday, I’m just clinging to my fifties.

I’ve had a pretty crappy week. My husband and I work together, with a small staff, and are a bit over-worked and snapping at each other.  We were robbed at work on Sunday night, we have one staffer on holidays (can’t remember holidays) and another newish staff member chose 8.30 am Monday to slip a letter of resignation under the door. He was a bit full of himself, a Hawthorn supporter, going to Perth for a better job. So work is tough at the moment.

 

Two weeks before, I had another bad patch. I accidentally ran over our 12 year old border collie, and after agonizing for two weeks, decided she must be put down. You cannot imagine how lousy I felt, looking at her in the lead up to D-day.

 

To be honest, my week hasn’t been all bad. I was out Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights, last night being a big one. I’m probably a bit old for so much fun plus so much work. Back it up with work again Saturday, and I’m tired and cranky.

 

How to feel better?
First, I need time to myself. My husband has chosen to go to our holiday house, 350 kms away (thank God), and our two resident adult sons have responded to heavy hinting and cleared off. You cannot imagine how nice it feels to have the house to myself.

 

I cook tea for myself only, and everything is going in the dishwasher. Next, I consider entertainment. I finally get to watch the end of a recorded Jack Nicholson movie, which has taken me all week to see in stages. But it was only 8.30 pm. So I needed something else. I had told myself I would play a DVD of “Bridesmaids”, a highly recommended “chick-flick”. But my finger roams the Foxtel remote control. Now, is there anything else I have recorded and haven’t watched yet?

 

It’s a no-brainer. I have had footy on my mind for two weeks now, ever since Carlton sent me a letter telling me my reserved seats on Level 2 at the Dome need to be upgraded to something called “Captain’s Club” if I want to keep them. Same goes for my footy buddies who sit with me. Captain’s Club?  Surely a more prestigious name is required. It sounds like a crèche.

 

The Carlton letter prompted a great flurry of emails between my footy buddies and me,  all angry that long-term supporters like us (25 years +) should be pushed out of our lovely ( and hard won, I must say) seats by some cashed-up newbies who want top seats and a guaranteed GF ticket,  (should we make it, I must add). Where were these band-wagonners in the dark days of 2002-2008?

 

I phoned the club to express my opinion and then emailed them to complain.  “Doesn’t the club value long-term supporters?” I asked.  One of my footy buddies, Charles, did even better. He wrote a filthy letter to Clinton Bown (the signatory at the end of the Carlton letter) and got not one but two phone calls from Clinton, from Clinton’s holiday in Byron Bay! The Board told him to contact Charles and Clinton took a strong stand. As you would when the Board wrecks your holidays like that. But he underestimated Charles, who likes a good argument, and held the moral high ground. Clinton had to eat some of his words, and his one piece of good news was that Essendon members had to pay more for the same seats in their membership package. But the upshot is, they ain’t letting us stay on Level 2 for the same money.

 

Yesterday, a more conciliatory letter came from my illustrious club, this one justifying their money-grubbing actions. I can sort of see that they have to make money where they can, so band-wagonners are good for that. And it did suck up to us a bit. All right, I’ll become a Captains Club member. I love those seats.

 

Today was frantic at our short—staffed shop. Due to my forty glasses of champagne consumed last night at a family party until 2 am, I needed not one but two mugs of chicken noodle soup to function. Nerves were frazzled at the end of the day, with a couple of boxes flying across the office just before home time, and I wearily locked up at 5 pm, and wished the robbers good luck.

 

So what did I watch to unwind tonight? “Bridesmaids”? No. “Amelie”? No.

I feel wonderful now. I have just watched Carlton destroy Essendon in the #2 Elimination final in the first week of this year’s finals. And I hope those Essendon members paid more than me for the privilege of seeing my team kill theirs.

 

 

Comments

  1. Barb, you are such a footy fan – and life fan. Thanks for the words. Happy for the Almanac to act as therapist whenever called on. Just love that you sat down to a moment of recorded triumph ahead of Amelie. (We considered that name for our youngest, but wondered how it would go if she were a burly bruising hockey goal-keeper).

  2. John Butler says:

    Barb,

    Surely the final paragraph is enough to set right everything above it. :)

  3. Richard Naco says:

    Coincidentally, I also spent last night watching my team’s last win of the season.

    But it topped off a good day for me. Hope your general run of luck turns around.

    (And you’re spot on: “Captain’s Club” does sound like a creche!)

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