>I know what you’re thinking. this guy doesn’t shut up…. well its true. now i’m available 24/7.
alot musing in my mind these days. slight hangover, tiredness, sore eyes. reading the Outsider again at the moment.
“I didn’t look over at Marie (his girlfriend). I didn’t have time to because the judge told me in a peculiar way that I would be decapitated in a public square in the name of the French people. “
The melancholy way he says it always makes me laugh. Listening to “The Hurricane ” by Bob Dylan. First heard only a year (to my shame) on Joe’s MP3 on the bus heading to Rio last year.
That’s the same journey Joe told me about his mate playing football in Ireland.
Put on a Dublin accent
“You arrive at the bus stop 10am Sunday and they take you to the pitch. Anyone can turn up. Anyway, this farmer guy turns up. Sort of guy who’s been drinking since Friday and will continue till Monday. Turns with a six pack of beer. Drinks it all before the game. The gaffer leaves him on the bench and only brings him on with 10 minutes to go and they’re winning 3-0. Puts him upfront. What harm can he do there, eh? well, the ball comes to him, on the edge of the box, just him and the goalie. take it on, and score son. But no. This guy hits it first time. Arrows straight in, top corner. Everyone stands there, stunned. The farmer starts running to the corner flag for the celebration. Everyone chases. But farmer boy doesn’t stop at the flag. No. he contuines on, across the next pitch, people start to give up the chase. Farmer keeps running, jumps the ditch, climbs the fence and is away. Never seen again. They had to bring on another sub. They packed his clothes after the game. He never came back.”
As Joe said, “that’s some celebration.”