I had been invited to attend a football match in that London, where I was to meet an old friend and someone who is a member of the GWUK group and was over for a short break.
The game was Charlton (Athletic) v Cambridge United, for whom Wessi graced the pitch until last season, though he since retired.
I have no trouble in attending a game a neutral, Simin is a huge Cambridge fan and has written for WSC about the club, I have dark thoughs about Charlton and their refusal to let tens of thousands of Norwich fans have tickets in 2010 to see us promoted.
I still hold that grudge.
Anyway, I did feel a little dirty in cheating on Norwich, doubly so as I have no renewed any kind of membership for the last two seasons. Last year was just so painful I hardly watched them at all.
But on Saturday, City were on the telebox again, playing Sunderland, and two of the neighbours, Bev and Steve, well Steve and their son are Sunderland fans, and they invited me round to watch the game with them.
That is joining our two neighbours of 15 years to watch a game that I an theny were emotionally involved in the two teams. This is the things that neighbourhood wars are born of.
Maybe.
Bev is much more sensible, in that she is a Liverpool fan, and it is her and their other son's shouts I hear when the 'Pool are playing and score, 45 seconds before my video feed shows the action.
So, there were no other plans made, other than at midday I would go with armfulls of beer, wearing a Pukki shirt and a scarf, with dark thoughts of watching them dancing round the their living room as Sunderland rattling in their goals.
Before then there was coffee, shopping, more coffee and breakfast and maybe some early lunch so to soak up the beer that would be drink.
You know the drill by now. Tesco was quiet, shelves pretty full, though goods pulled to the front so looked full, and things getting more expensive. £122 for a week's shop, and nothing really expensive. And filling the car cost £55 and that was only half full.
Back home for breakfast of bacon butties and coffee, whilst listening to the wireless, and for once, not having anything to rush out for.
Lunch was cold sausage rolls, very nice with a huge brew, and I hoped would soak up the beer, a keg of Stella that would keep refiling our glasses through the afternoon.
I went round and we all made comfortable in the living room, the huge TV showing the game in super hi-def or whatever Sky calls it.
We had our first beer:
Cheers.
And may the best team win!
The two teams ran out onto the pitch, shhok hands and lined up.
And for the next 45 minutes Sunderland tried to show how many "nearly" goals they could clome close to scoring: twice off the woodwork, cleared off the line and so on and on. Norwich looked a shadow with just two chances.
At half time it was still 0-0, but Sunderland should have had two or three.
That they didn't meant that the second half should be interesting, I made the remark about bringing on Pukki and Cantwell in the second half, and Hudgell hadn't even made the bench. And it was that bench and the quality it contained that meant after an hour, the triple change made by Norwich and Sunderland tiring, City took control, passed the ball about and created chances.
Sunderland had created one early in the 2nd half where it seemed harder to miss than score, they did miss, but on 76 minutes, the ball was crossed into the Sunderland box and Sargent volleyed the ball into the onion bag.
1-0.
I stayed for a while, drinking a third pint as the main group of games kicked off, before going home to see Jools. Liverpool were already 2-0 up against Bournemouth. It ended 9-0, and a reminder how hard life can be in the Prem when you're shit.
Back home we had the blackberry and apple crumble whilst I listened to the football, then watched Arsenal play.
The day faded.
Not much else to report really.
That we had more rain. An hour's worth, so hard it seeemd like mist had falled. The BBC promised us there was a 6% chance or rain.
At this rate the lawn'll be green again soon.
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