Sciatica has got me the bastard. A hateful but thankfully for me usually transient condition. Coincided with a bit of a mojo draining fallow period dangling wise. A few dace on the stick and a mean, lean pike that snaffled a tinca bound boilie, fought like stink and bit me off, after I'd dipped the formerly dry net in the pond. And a mumbled aside by the optician about cataracts. Which being a man I chose to pretend not to hear, and he being a man chose not to be more forthcoming about.
I did drag my sorry arse to Yarco though yesterday as the Little 'Uns were in a show on Britannia Pier. They done good but looked so tiny......
Mind you I need to send them to a Chinese style Uighur People re-education camp after having trod the same soiled boards as these Good Ole Saturday Night "entertainers".
I fortified myself for 3 hours cramped in a tiny bucket of a seat in at times excruciating pain with a pint of Eels Foot, being as the Carvery was set on the banks of Eels Foot Broad.
Quite a Boujee crowd, unlike on the Pier. Even a Lilly Allen look a likie. Amongst a goodly proportion of the BureBoi tribe and in-laws.
Speaking of Saturday Night "entertainment":