9 Years Ago

I lived with my old best friend Nicky. We used to wake up on Sundays, bum around the house for a bit and inevitably end up at the local "its a scream" pub watching the Chelsea match. Sunday lunch, followed by a couple of drinks ("a couple") followed by 90 minutes of us screaming at a large screen.. Wise was still playing for us, and Vialli was Manager. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday.

Now, don't get me wrong, watching the footie with the boys is awesome but:

1. none of them support Chelsea
2. watching it with Nicky was better.. not only were we on the same side, but saying "aww isn't he cute" about football players to boys is possibly a bigger sin than being at a show and mentioning a guy in a band/the crowd is hot. Boys see this as you not taking their passion seriously, and thus will look at you like you are insane for saying such a thing, turn away and not pay any attention to your views from that point on, forgetting that you are a girl, and that if a dude is cute, a dude is cute, but that is another post for another day.

ANYHOW, Chelsea reached the Champions League Final and last night, in Moscow, played against Manchester United.

We watched the first half in a pub in Kingston about 75% full of Man U fans (HOW DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN IN KINGSTON?!) and it was awesome but i felt myself getting carried away, mostly because Chelsea were playing and it was the last chance for the team to win ANYTHING this season, but partly because i HATE Christian Ronaldo.

While an amazing striker, I will give him that, he's a fucking cheat. I know that my hatred for the boy is much more deep rooted and stems from "the wink", but still. He makes my skin crawl.


I then spent the rest of the night running from the room in The Peel with the stage whilst Crime In Stereo were on (they are playing tomorrow so I am going to watch the whole set then) and the bar where they were showing the match that eventually went to penalties. And we lost.

That was it. My night was ruined. The game ended, CIS did about 4 encores, and still I was miserable.

On the bus home last night, I thought about Nicky, and how, even if we lost the match, happy we would be at the end of those Sunday evenings, not thinking about how awful we would feel the next day.. I miss those days.