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I am officially excited. I have no idea why, as 43 years of watching Rangers should have taught me what will happen, but at the moment that doesn't matter.
After 45 years of having ours my dad and I have decided not to renew. My dad is over 80 and hasn't been too well so we will for the first time ever, stand down from weekly duties and pick some games to go to when he feels like it.
After 45 years of having ours my dad and I have decided not to renew. My dad is over 80 and hasn't been too well so we will for the first time ever, stand down from weekly duties and pick some games to go to when he feels like it.
Sorry to hear that Bosh. Hope you can still enjoy(!) a few games.
After 45 years of having ours my dad and I have decided not to renew. My dad is over 80 and hasn't been too well so we will for the first time ever, stand down from weekly duties and pick some games to go to when he feels like it.
That's how it starts!
Sure you'll pick a few games in the warmth of the August sun, maybe if we win, stretch it in to September a bit. Then when it gets a tad chilly and the results iffy, it's a weekend away here and a weekend aware there. You will of course be fixated with the BBC app, but by November while on a break in Lisbon, and with dodgy internet coverage, you'll wait until your back at the hotel, because it's only Burton after all and we'll stuff them.
Come Christmas, you'll take in the Boxing Day game, moan about the fact you could be at home with the turkey as opposed to paying £30 to watch eleven turkeys struggle to get a point at home to Ipswich. You sneak a week away in the Maldives early January, and barely notice our exit to North Greenford in the FA Cup.
A succession of trips, visits and colds, intermingled with all out war on here about some disastrous rout at the hands of some provincial northern outfit and the next thing you know, you're on the train to work and blow me, we played Preston last night and you didn't even know it!
Come Easter, and with us in dire straights, you forgo the relegation six-pointer against Reading, as there is a Turner retrospective at the Tate. The following week you're on a 2-for-1 offer at Jamie's; you and the old man are enjoy an Italian meal during which, you ask some minimum wage yoof for the wifi code, 'Fcuk me Dad, we're beating Fulham, I think we're staying up!'
The final week of the season, and your first home game since Christmas. Out the station you had to ask for directions to the ground. The pair of you rock up, whereupon dad says, 'By heckers lad, Holloway's had a hair transplant!'
As all around stare at you both, until some die hard and heavily tattooed hipster turns around and says, 'Ian was sacked in March. That's Garry Monk, it's out turn to be managed by him!'
For the first time in 46 years, the pair of you decide not to go on the pitch after the match to celebrate our survival in the Championship. It is after all the semi-final night on Strictly and you're into it these days and well it's not so bad and you can get a cuppa easily from the kitchen as opposed to queuing up to pay £3 for piss.
Next season comes, and blow me, you've got in on the ballot to be in the audience for the cha-cha night on Strictly. You barely even notice that QPR have gone into administration, subsumed by debts the size of mountains. The club has gone; the fans no more, all is lost but bugger it all, you scored Joey Barton's effort the same as Darcy Bussell.
[Post edited 6 Mar 2018 9:00]
'Always In Motion' by John Honney available on amazon.co.uk
Sure you'll pick a few games in the warmth of the August sun, maybe if we win, stretch it in to September a bit. Then when it gets a tad chilly and the results iffy, it's a weekend away here and a weekend aware there. You will of course be fixated with the BBC app, but by November while on a break in Lisbon, and with dodgy internet coverage, you'll wait until your back at the hotel, because it's only Burton after all and we'll stuff them.
Come Christmas, you'll take in the Boxing Day game, moan about the fact you could be at home with the turkey as opposed to paying £30 to watch eleven turkeys struggle to get a point at home to Ipswich. You sneak a week away in the Maldives early January, and barely notice our exit to North Greenford in the FA Cup.
A succession of trips, visits and colds, intermingled with all out war on here about some disastrous rout at the hands of some provincial northern outfit and the next thing you know, you're on the train to work and blow me, we played Preston last night and you didn't even know it!
Come Easter, and with us in dire straights, you forgo the relegation six-pointer against Reading, as there is a Turner retrospective at the Tate. The following week you're on a 2-for-1 offer at Jamie's; you and the old man are enjoy an Italian meal during which, you ask some minimum wage yoof for the wifi code, 'Fcuk me Dad, we're beating Fulham, I think we're staying up!'
The final week of the season, and your first home game since Christmas. Out the station you had to ask for directions to the ground. The pair of you rock up, whereupon dad says, 'By heckers lad, Holloway's had a hair transplant!'
As all around stare at you both, until some die hard and heavily tattooed hipster turns around and says, 'Ian was sacked in March. That's Garry Monk, it's out turn to be managed by him!'
For the first time in 46 years, the pair of you decide not to go on the pitch after the match to celebrate our survival in the Championship. It is after all the semi-final night on Strictly and you're into it these days and well it's not so bad and you can get a cuppa easily from the kitchen as opposed to queuing up to pay £3 for piss.
Next season comes, and blow me, you've got in on the ballot to be in the audience for the cha-cha night on Strictly. You barely even notice that QPR have gone into administration, subsumed by debts the size of mountains. The club has gone; the fans no more, all is lost but bugger it all, you scored Joey Barton's effort the same as Darcy Bussell.
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That's about right. 
