Cappuccino from a snazzy north-side Topaz, different now from the Finnish petroleum kings who never had the French Vanilla from which you top up your classy capuch. It’s the vanilla waft which gets me, not the additional coffee which should be supplied anyway, with the original coffee.
So, the coffee and the French smell and we’re on some playing field. I can still feel the sand between my toes but we’re back, already, doing the early morning coffee watching thing and it’s not right. I’ve put on my watching jacket which is immediately discarded in a heap. It’s not the hot coffee though, it’s the latent summer / early autumn sweltering heat which only reinforces a slightly misogynistic opinion that the all powerful one might be feminine and she’ll make it cold when she’s good and ready.
Grand, sips capuch.
And you think of ten smart answers and realize that it’s a long season and know that a cheap shot will come back many times over the coming months.
You settle, small chat, another summer another year, Mike the Box Griffin is still in the far distance, yet somehow clearer and nearer.
That fella, watch him now, like lightening, tearing up the wing stepping in and out of tackles, the tall blondy guy.
And her, over there, practising her sprints, with her blocks and wicked reactions and litheness.
Do you notice anything?
That they’re sharp and fast…
Fuck off and watch the game.
I shift from one to another; the too familiar pain causes me to shift, a compensating movement. The lower back starts to ache now as it tries to reconcile the new body position which it can’t cause, one leg is now shorter than the other and no matter which way I shift, the spine recoils and says, fuck off.
What is it though about the speed and the reaction? Do you notice anything?
That you’re a total spa?
The pegs, it’s in the pegs.
And now I’m sorry, so very sorry Paddy, you don’t deserve this but,
You have flex ed and hyper-extended too much, brother,
And that chink is a chasm, and your knees are no wonder.
Later on Sniffle was arrested for crimes against poetry and general fuck acting in a public place.
In his defence he claimed still having hopes of playing football and sprinting like his children
Spa that he is.