Well, it’s done and dusted and please don’t read any further if you haven’t watched the final episode of Celebrity Traitors. Spoiler alert: I might mention at the end who won. Then again, I might not….
All is revealed….
Thursday nights are usually blog nights, for me anyway and far too often to be healthy they’re so late they move in to the next morning. That was the case last week because although the words were almost all written in good time – though not quite all – there was an unexpected glitch: the sister and her husband were coming for a couple of nights and the house was in the process of being tidied.
In other words, it was a tip. So I had to izzy-whizzy, switch in to overdrive and make the place habitable for visitors. It was an autumn clean rather than a spring clean and it was a great relief to make inroads. However, it did mean that my sleep pattern was disrupted even more than usual; and I had a busy weekend ahead. Aaaaaagh….
The next morning I missed my snooker lesson because I still had the shower and the loos to clean but I made it to bridge in time and don’t think I made any more miscalculations than usual. The brain cell had woken up enough to make the odd correct call.
Then it was off to London to meet up with a member of the Irish branch of the Spurs supporters’ club in preparation for the big match the next evening and the stadium tour in the morning. Our leader had also organised a trip to Frameless, an immersive art experience that is receiving rave reviews and is well worth a visit. No need to rush, it’s on for another three years.
Nice and calm, immersed in Venice.
Just one word of warning: sometimes the floor seems to move – and the ceiling and the walls – and if you’re tired or have had a drink or two too many, it’s not an easy watch. In fact, the first two rooms reminded me of a rather unpleasant experience on the Scillonian, leaving Penzance on an even keel and staggering off on St Mary’s (Isles of Scilly) with everything all over the place. Dizzying was the word for it.
Vesuvius erupting: scary and spectacular but not so bad if you’re sitting down.
I know that Christmas is not that far away – my hairdresser always knows the exact number of days – but it came early for a couple of Tottenham tragics when we had a match day tour of our swanky new(ish) stadium. All we lacked was a legend leading us around but the two young men in charge of our group were very good and well informed and managed to keep us ahead – just – of the hundreds of people coming in to start work (including some of the first-team coaches, who descended on the dressing room as we, the last tour on the list, were leaving).
The kit all ready for the team of the day. Nice colour for the goalies. They didn’t let us see the names.
Two ridiculously happy Totspurs, yours truly, dressed for the occasion, with Denise (left) who organised the whole thing.
The match wasn’t until half past five (on a Saturday), yet another of those random kick-off times designed to suit the telly channels; the fans will pitch up wherever, whenever and pay whatever…Maybe aye and maybe och aye. Take us for granted at your peril.
Denise, our organiser par excellence, had sussed out a very congenial pub (home fans only) not too far from the ground and we had something to eat (and a drink or two) in good company, full of hope that we’d beat Chelsea, not something we seem to find easy. We even found a group of lads from Cavan, fans of Leona Maguire, to take a pic of us full of hope and expectation.
Ready for the match, full of hope: Gemma, in the middle, was about to watch her first premier league game. Thanks to the Cavan lads for the photo.
I couldn’t fault the build up to the game but for some reason our boys didn’t turn up and went missing the moment the whistle went; they/we were dire, no other word for it. Chelsea won 1-nil but it should have been more and we never looked like sneaking an equaliser. They really do have the hex over us and their fans were jubilant, rubbing it in with justifiable glee as we headed unhappily into the night.
Oh no! They’ve done it again. Away fans and team enjoying their trip to Tottenham.
To make matters worse, we got to a pub near our hotel in time to watch Ireland lose to the All Blacks in Chicago. At least the boys in green led for a good while before succumbing and the craic could hardly have been better. Sometimes it’s not the result that matters most.
I won’t mention who won Traitors, just in case you still haven’t heard – and I know there are some of you out there who couldn’t care less. Wish I felt the same about Spurs.
Now, why on earth would that be?….
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