Beer: Shepherd Neame Bishops Finger 5.0%
The WH were screening Man City v Huddersfield in the FA Cup (supporting, if not proving, the “they don’t screen Sky” theory). The place was half full, entirely soulless. The beer was well presented but seemed way too strong compared to the (way too weak) Grainstore at the Brickies earlier.
The photos taken outside the football ground didn’t inspire. They were taken in perpetual drizzle – and I’ve never really sussed out how to use the camera. We’ll see.
Anyway, the football went badly; according to the coverage afforded by my phone.
Town were 1-0 down early (as I saw thru the Brickies window on the way down), then 2-0 in the second half. Then it was 2-2. Then 2-3 to Oxford – at which point I left the pub.
I walked home, ipod unplugged, listening intently for equaliser elation; hearing nothing. On passing the Brickies I looked through the window and concluded that the Oxford players looked the happier in the immediate post-match pictures.
It wasn’t until I hit the junction of HTR and Havelock that I heard a vague chorus of “Que sera sera” from the 700 odd Oxford fans
Thereby, my match boycott photography project was nipped in the bud before the requirement to trudge around Wembley (hoping to snap a discarded boater).
The WH were screening Man City v Huddersfield in the FA Cup (supporting, if not proving, the “they don’t screen Sky” theory). The place was half full, entirely soulless. The beer was well presented but seemed way too strong compared to the (way too weak) Grainstore at the Brickies earlier.
The photos taken outside the football ground didn’t inspire. They were taken in perpetual drizzle – and I’ve never really sussed out how to use the camera. We’ll see.
Anyway, the football went badly; according to the coverage afforded by my phone.
Town were 1-0 down early (as I saw thru the Brickies window on the way down), then 2-0 in the second half. Then it was 2-2. Then 2-3 to Oxford – at which point I left the pub.
I walked home, ipod unplugged, listening intently for equaliser elation; hearing nothing. On passing the Brickies I looked through the window and concluded that the Oxford players looked the happier in the immediate post-match pictures.
It wasn’t until I hit the junction of HTR and Havelock that I heard a vague chorus of “Que sera sera” from the 700 odd Oxford fans
Thereby, my match boycott photography project was nipped in the bud before the requirement to trudge around Wembley (hoping to snap a discarded boater).
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