To Passchendaele and back for my darling daughter

davWhat a morning that was: the Quest for the Big Enough Knickers, followed by the Blue Socks SOS From School and, finally, Daddy Goes On A Muddy Field Adventure! And home in time for lunch.

Indiana Jones? A regular old stick-in-the mud by comparison!

‘Feckin’ hell,’ I thought to myself as I rooted through our ironing-pending drawer — aka everything washed and dried stuffed into the bottom of our son’s wardrobe —  for a clean pair of knickers for our daughter, ‘I never signed up for this!’ Continue reading

The last great blaze of a fading autumn

Guinness kicker

What the fuck does he want?”

The familiar low-arsed heft of coach Hauley O’Brien was silhouetted against the autumn dusk as he picked up the last stray football from beneath the wire mesh behind the town goal. He squeezed it into the frayed old ball bag and pulled the drawstring tight as he stood up and called Grady over to him.

Grady was not in the humour for any more talk tonight about the big play-off game against Coolderragh on Sunday. Relegation for the losers.

The pain in his left ankle was worse than ever and the aching in his right knee was a right bastard. Nagging away like an auld wan. Continue reading