Lemmy, God, and Swindon   1 comment

lemmy tattoo

If Lemmy is mortal then where does a fragile flower such as myself stand? Feeling as though most of my lifestyle choices may have been ill advised after the sad news, we headed off for a Wildcats ice hockey match versus the Bracknell Bees hoping that something familiar would give me a signpost to the correct path.

Then, pre-faceoff drinks showed me this:

Party Time

Those who have never heard the voice of God (or, as he is alternatively known, Jim Anderson, proprietor of the Meet Rack) may not recognise the Words of the Prophecies but they were succour to my soul in the crowded Harvester Pub that evening.

The match went well even with the weird ritual throwing of Teddy bears onto the ice after the first home goal and the squads played an unusually professional and clean game until the last five minutes when all manner of Hell broke loose (fights, ejections, the lot — so this really IS minor league hockey after all the fine play). Marvelous. This was just what I needed.

Bear cleanup at Wildcats game

 

Then, the next afternoon after a few rums to cap a day spent upgrading my home PC’s operating system I walked into town the long way to enjoy the fresh, cool air and the quiet of Victoria Road. There was the voice of Jim, again (and, again, this means fuck-all to non-Meet Rack folk):

Way to Be

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Posted December 29, 2015 by Drunken Bunny in Obits, sport

Tagged with , , , , ,

One response to “Lemmy, God, and Swindon

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  1. Pingback: Oxford United is Murdering Celebrities | The Endless British Pub Crawl continues...

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