August 2011

[Sweder]

August has ended rather better than it started in many respects as I topped off a decent fortnight with back-to-back runs.

On Saturday I took the dogs up to Black Cap for a slow, fat-burning run, working the hills until my flabby glutes glowed. The downs looked spectacular, their late summer finery draped in light morning mist. That afternoon I took my seat in the press box at the Dripping Pan for the match with Billericay Town as 'live match tweeter' @Rookmeister. It was, Jim, a game of two halves, the first forty five all Lewesian pass and move rewarded with two fine goals from The Man With Two Names, Michael Malcolm. The second period turned into squeaky bum time as Lewes retreated and started banging the ball back to the Bills, inviting unnecessary waves of pressure.

At half time I bumped into one of the Bills' supporters in the Lewes FC bar, his tribal blue garb offset perfectly by dyed blond hair, a gleaming ear stud and a rugged gold link chain looped out over his BTFC shirt. As he took delivery of his halftime lager I asked if he might try our Town's celebrated ale. A look that could shatter wall-mounted flying ducks was followed by a rasped
'Fuck off mate, I don't want any of that muck'.
I've rarely cheered the home team as vigorously as I did in the second half. The Rooks conspired to let the Bills back into it and even to score a late goal. Happily it was not enough to reach parity. Our visitors cut a disconsolate figure as they trudged off in the knowledge that the mighty Lewes had just leap-frogged them up the table. Come On You Rooks!

This morning I met up with Moylebird for a lope up Old Snakey. It's been a while since I trod this path and I confess to being a little nervous. The clouds scuffed in from the ocean to unveil a clear blue sky, a gentle zephyr nudging us eastwards across the cliff-tops. By the time we reached the foothills of the Snake my legs were throbbing, tight as piano wire, calves moaning softly. Just shy of the summit, right on the final bend along this teasing, twisting track Cam stopped.
'It's around here I think'.
She peered under a thicket and pointed to a small collection of white stones. She and her Mum had visited this spot earlier in the year to scatter Moyleman's ashes. It's a fitting place for a tribute, one I've approached many times, often trailing in the big man's wake as he drove relentlessly onward. It's the point on the Old Serpent where runners know they're one corner away from the straight sprint to the top. It's a place filled with hope and happy memories, marked appropriately with tiny purple wild flowers. We shared a quiet moment to remember our brother and friend.

At the top of East Brighton park Cam sensed my eagerness to press on.
'You kick on Ash, I'll see you soon'. I smiled and set off, feet flying over the cinder track. Somehow my legs had new life, hurling me down the hill at four minute kilometre pace. I felt certain I'd seize up at any moment yet my arms pumped and my feet flew all the way back to the Marina. In all just shy of twenty kilometres in a smidgeon under two hours. I'm very happy with that and especially with the strong finish.

Forty five minutes later I was hiking over BlackCap once more, this time towards the excellent Half Moon pub in Plumpton. A seven mile round trip interrupted by a two-hour lunch with Mrs S, neighbours and a small posse of hounds. I inhaled a succulent roast pork dinner and two pints of Harveys before strolling back across the hills.



As we walked home in glorious late afternoon sunshine I glanced at my mobile. Man United had just gone 2-0 up and Arsenal had missed a penalty. What a day! It couldn't possibly get any better. Until I got home and watched United score a fifth, RvP pull a second back for the otherwise hapless Gunners before the home side slammed in six, seven and, best of the lot, number eight. SAF appeared sorry for his opposite number in the post match interview, possible the most damning of all indictments. I confess to being more interested in the goings on in the Ryman league these days yet with Citeh's ransacking in Tottenham this was surely a most remarkable day in football's Top flight.