Happened to be at the Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-upon-Avon, last Tuesday, visiting Shakespeare’s grave, when lo, yet another apparition appeared – is this a beanie which I see before me, the pom-pom toward my hand?
Such a portent, as we screwed our courage to the sticking-place while racing to Heathrow for the flight home to witness the hurly-burly’s done of Sat arvo, the battle lost and won.
Surely we’ll be seeing a Tige’s Almanac special edition? Your only problem will be cutting stuff out, otherwise it will rival Proust in length. And content.
The good lady Laraine is ecstatic, understandably, and I’m mightily impressed. It’s been a while. Tomorrow and tomorrow will not creep in any petty pace – bring on the B2B!
Regards,
Michael Cunningham
So many signs Michael.
So many tears.
So many strive.
And all were justified.
Eat ’em alive Tigers.
“whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad…”
surely he was talking about our mob, the Mighty Magpies, when he penned those lines!
“a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing” – for all those footy scribes from Mark Robinson to Bruce Macaveny
And for our beloved Schrodinger’s coach, why it ain’t going to happen like it did for Hardwick – “even the very dice obey him!”