Taylor Made

I went to Steve Taylor’s ‘secret’ 60th birthday bash yesterday – something I hinted at very surreptitiously in ‘Shoosh’.

The first thing Tay said to me when he got there was “I read the blog this morning, I never realised you were coming here”

Two things – a) how did he not guess? And b) what the fuck was he doing reading this crap on his birthday?

It was a good day and a fair few Askeans made it all the way to Kidderminster – I actually didn’t realise it was a real place – I imagined it was a bit like Midsommer (without the incredible amount of weekly bloodshed). Or more especially Warminster -on-Sea, and looking at the large number of old bastards there (and in the mirror at my impersonation of Private Godfrey) it could easily have been!

I had to drive back so I was on the highly intoxicating diet coke (liquid not powder) – but the Doris’ on the beer pumps seemed quite busy so I must have been in the minority.

It was good to catch up with blokes I haven’t seen for a while – the ones I remember are Pete Askew, Jesse Owens (obviously not his real name – the Jesse bit, I think he really is called Owens), Brom, John Field, Tay (obviously), little Tay and his son Trigger, Mickey Skinner and Danny.

There were probably others who I missed – maybe I didn’t recognise them because they’ve aged even worse than me.

I managed a couple of photos – even one with me in!

I only got one of Tay – but Brom sent me a shot of the poster on the front door!

I had to leave to drive home after the Italy debacle, but the guys went off to the Dogs (4 legged racing sort – I think) and then back to the club for even more falling down soup. Sadly these days I don’t need any of that to keel over, I manage that just trying to shove one leg in front of the other  – god knows what I’d be like if I was inebriated (that means pissed – I know I looked it up on Google).

I was recording the Wales v England game and planned to watch it without knowing the score when I got back. Predictably I caved and switched on ‘Five Live’ and had a tortuous journey as the game gradually swung towards Wales as half-time approached. There’s probably a proper word for ‘screaming pointlessly at the radio’ but I suspect ‘being a complete twat’ will suffice in my case – and yes, I know that’s more than one word!

I saw the second half ‘live’ whilst texting with Harro (see below) – the last 5 minutes took about 5 years off my life – so if there’s no posts here tomorrow – you’ll know why!

Fun time all round – happy birthday Tay!

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