Basking in the glory bloody hurts…

I took part in a football tournament today. It was a bloody good crack if not a little fast paced and testing on the old lungs.

Kick off was around 10am and we went right the way through to 4pm.

There were meant to be ten teams in all. All playing on behalf of a charity in aid of poorly kids. Sadly only three teams turned up. Alas, we made the most of it though by playing each other twice. This meant that the time between games was usually pretty short, therefore not giving one too much time to recover. As I said though, it was a good crack and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Our team, which represented the local ambulance service beat of competition from the local police force and a team of local folk… despite some howlers from me. I have to hold my hands up and say that I was clearly the weakest link in the team. Yet, I played my heart out and ran about that pitch chasing some bloody good players all day long.

I now sit at home, basking in the glory that comes with a well earned victory. Yet its not quite as joyous as i was led to believe. My feet feel like someone has been at them with a meat tenderizer, my back feels somehow compressed and the less said of my legs the better – its like walking on jelly. I’m simply just one big bruise and its bloody hurts.

Its all good though. I’ve never been part of a team that has come first in a tournament and so I’ll take this victory as the one that will probably never be trumped. I mean, after my performance today I’m doubtful the rest of the team will ever let me in goal again.

Here be a picture of me, the captain and our shiny new trophy…

Thats me on the left. The one with the dodgy facial hair.

Right then, thats all there is from me then.

Bye for now.


Author: Mark S Thompson

Okay, so these things are kind of hit and miss. If you’re reading this then I am thankful to you for taking the time out of your day to do so. I’ll be honest, when I think of myself as a writer, I kinda cringe. Don’t get me wrong, it is the dream, it's​ just I never really believe it will go anywhere. When I think back to the day that I first knew I loved writing, and I mean really knew, I see myself sitting in an English lesson at secondary school. The school was called Wrotham and is in the county of Kent, England. As far as I know, it's still there. English was far and away my favourite subject. The best bit was when the teacher gave the class a selection of words and asked us to make up a story that either contained those words or was about those words, you know. At other times we would be given the first sentence and then write what happens next. Good times. Many times my work would reflect what I had recently read and it would be okay. Nothing special, just okay. On one occasion though I wrote about a merman called Finchy and can remember going into so much depth and detail about him and the underwater kingdom he lived in. I really enjoyed writing that and it must have shown because my teacher commented on it. She was really impressed and loved the story. That was it for me, my moment. Now when I write I think back to those great times and to that story. Hopefully, I’ll write something that you, the reader, will be moved to comment on. For me, there is no greater elixir

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