Based on your point of view, Bristol City were founded in 1894, or 1897 or 1982. From then to present day, supporters have not exactly been drenched in glory: a couple of European trophies (the Welsh Cup and the Anglo-Scottish Cup, the latter being notable for leaving a void on the managerial CV of a certain Alex Ferguson, no doubt his career feels unfulfilled), the illustrious lower-league double, and record winners of the Football League trophy. Short story, this is not a club that attracts glory hunters. So, with that in mind, I made the trip to Bristol on Saturday for the mouth-watering league clash with Wigan. Despite having a season ticket, this was actually my first home game of the season, and I figured a couple of hours in the company of family and friends might take my mind off things. Sadly, no-one told the club, and general misery continued, throwing away a lead late into added time, costing us 2 vital points in our promotion chase. It was the first time I had seen two of the friends since the news broke, so it was a long catch-up session as to what had been going on with me. One of them I have known for knocking on 40 years, so it was tough. After the game I stayed with them for an hour or so, before heading back to my bolt-hole and an early night.
Some progress also today, with the morning post including notification of my referral to a colorectal surgical consultant in 10 days time. It was a huge relief to actually feel as though progress had been made:
Sunday morning I arranged to meet my brother-in-law to assist with purchasing a TV. It has been very quiet in the house all this time without an easy way to watch shows on telly. I figured I could treat myself to something. We lugged back a behemoth that I suspect my wife would not approve, but I did apply pure science in the selection, so my BIL was convinced his sister would be swayed. If not, I'll simply blame him.
After getting all that set up, my niece and her boyfriend popped over for late lunch. We headed out to a country pub a few miles away, ate, drank and chatted, and it all seemed good again. I came back to the house, chilled, watched a movie on my new telly, and spoke to my wife. Later that evening, I got a message from a friend in the US (who insisted I refer to her in this blog as my favorite (sic) American): she and I generally trade only light-hearted insults, but this time she did manage a very touching and heartfelt message. Again, sounding more and more like a scratched record, overwhelming support and love from each person who gets in touch.