It’s that time of the season again, when everyone is equal and just for a moment we all dream that somehow, perhaps, the team is better than we think, that they really will play like they do in our dreams. So the heart begins to pound, the tension, the fear, the dreams to build Except we kick off tomorrow, by which time the we will be in the mid-table obscurity we’ll probably be consigned to, but hey. 3420 minutes ahead, 38 games to glory. Haway the lads!
Last weekend saw the excitement of a music festival—though not one on a very big scale at all. In fact, the very local Petts Woodstock.