The Smell Of Bacon

The smell of bacon, the sound of Daughter’s vocal chords (still going strong after twelve hours) and the beginnings of a hangover get me up fairly early this morning. After serving notice to the hangers-on from last night’s party, I head off on to the park with the dogs and also fetch the car back from where we left it last night.

When I get back home we still have guests but the last few stragglers finally leave around midday. Son summarises the evening on his Facebook, his post apparently done using the on-screen keyboard because his got damaged mid-party, along with his bed and several other things. A pretty good night he reckons, hmmm.

We stay in for the rest of the day, to dry out and clear up. The amount of empties is staggering; I have a serious amount of glass recycling to do. Meanwhile my hangover appears to be working in reverse and getting steadily worse.

I am thrilled for one Derby County stalwart who has been named in the New Year Honours list and awarded an MBE. Gordon Guthrie has been at Derby for as long as anyone can remember. He certainly appears in every team photo taken since I’ve been supporting the club. Guthrie was formerly on the playing staff but then in the late sixties returned to serve as first second team trainer before becoming the clubs physiotherapist. Consequently he has served under over twenty different managers and was given a testimonial in 1988 for 20 years’ service. He is at the club now as kit manager. Gordon will probably never retire and he probably knows too much for anyone to dare to ask him to leave. If he did ever write his memoirs it would be a very revealing read but it won't happen, he’s not the sort of chap to dish the dirt.