I had a rather fun, if ultimately uneventful weekend.
Friday night we made the decision to go out, as my drinking buddies were busy on Saturday night so Friday became our night out. It was a rather unusual for us night as we went to Fat Cats in Llandudno.
We never go to Fat Cats in Llandudno, for good reason. It is ruddy expensive. Neverthless, some mates of mates (one of which I admit I do fancy from afar ) were in there, so I thought it’d be rude not to meet up with them.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a brilliant night. Said fancied girl did come over and make a bit of conversation with yours truly. If this was after Contiki, and my balls were still the size of grapefruits, I’d probably of done something and asked her for her number. Oh well.
However, one thing that put me off the place is the prices. Seriously, it is only rivalling Broadway and The Lounge as the most expensive place in Llandudno, and – despite serving mine and Z’s favourite drink Desperado’s – the beer isn’t all that good, with only commercially available bitter John Smiths as the only session ale.
Nevertheless, I did have a good night, even if I had my jeans ripped to shreds by said girl, mate and mate’s missus.
Saturday was Bay vs. Gresley away, but due to driving lesson (which I did okay, despite stalling at a roundabout and I still can’t reverse around a corner) I couldn’t make the long trip to Derbyshire.
Instead, I went to Kirklands, with a few of the Bay faithful, to watch Cammell Laird FC entertain Grantham Town. You may ask why, and there is a reason. You see, Cammell Lairds were the team that defeated us last season, and also had Graham Rooney (Wayne’s Brother) playing for them. We went on a bit of a scouting mission, as Grantham are a team that need to slip up if we are to make the playoffs.
Incidentally, they did kind of, as Lairds drew 1-1 with Grantham. Which, whilst good for us, we couldn’t capitalize. We lost 1-0.
The whole escapade makes me wonder just what sort of a football fan I am. I mean, you hear stories of men neglecting their wives/girlfriends to watch football matches, and you hear stories of men going accross this green and plesant land to watch a game of football. Where does neglecting your club to watch your promotion rivals (hopefully) lose fit?
On the other side of things, when Colwyn Bay lose, I wouldn’t stay I’m too miserable. Sure, I sulk for about half an hour, but then get on with it. I know I’m not the only one, as a friend of mine said that they stopped on the way back from the game to go to the pub, and nobody seemed too downhearted.
I guess at this level we can’t take it too much of a life or death game. We just smile and get on with it and if we lose, oh well.
Or maybe it isn’t football, maybe it’s the people I go to football with.